I’m Still Alive

OK, so the belief I held for so long that I would not live much past age ?? was a load of crap, for today I am 547 days (or one year, six months, and one day) older than ?? and I have got to admit, that is WAY past age ?? (new readers can catch up here and here). So now what? Well, first, I guess I have to say goodbye to the black-wearing, Keats-quoting part of me that has been around since my teenage years. Yeah, that’s not going to happen (90% of my wardrobe is black and Keats rocks) but perhaps I can dial it back a bit. Then, under normal circumstances, I might have wanted to start contributing more to my 401(k) but I cashed that thing in a few months ago (only reason I am not up to my eyeballs in credit card debt). I can think of one thing only right now and that is getting a job.

Oh, that reminds me, only the inner circle is privy to the latest news: I quit the telephone research job to take on another part time (but way better) position. Of course, because my life has been nothing but a farce this last 18 months, I lost that position after a few weeks, and I can’t go back to the telephone research job because they have a stupid rule that you cannot reapply for six months. I applied for my dream job but did not get it, after easily the Worst Interview Of My Life. Although, I do have to wonder if one of the employees there might have put in a bad word for me. We’d exchanged some hot and heavy emails after he’d placed an ad on Craig’s List for a BBW to help fulfill a sexual fantasy he had. It was such a vanilla fantasy but he was extremely embarrassed by it, which I put down to his Catholic upbringing, but I could be wrong because I tend to blame lots of things on religion, card-carrying atheist that I am. Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, so we never did meet and fulfill his fantasy (seriously, it was so lame, I think Margaret Thatcher might have done it. Or even Barbara Bush). But in the course of our email exchange I learned he worked at this place and so when I got the interview, I sent him an email saying I might run into him. And I did, being shown around the offices after the Worst Interview Of My Life. I am not sure of how much clout he has, but I do wonder if he might have said something to the powers that be. Oh well.

So what now, now that I might have to start believing the fortune teller who read my palm once and said I had the longest life line she had ever seen?