Possibilities

I was walking downtown on my way home (read: to the shops) from yet another interview. (Sample dialogue from said interview: “Jill, you are just great! I’ll be talking to our CEO tonight to see if we really are hiring for this position!.”) From the bowels of Market Street I heard, “Hey gorgeous.” I looked down to give the homeless person a cursory glance, when I saw his cardboard sign: “I NEED A GIRLFRIEND.”

Then I looked at his face. Actually, he was pretty good looking, in a rugged sort of way. And it just popped into my head: I don’t have a boyfriend.

Well, yeah.

Now it really begins.

What I mean to say is that it didn't really being back in October. Oh, yeah, I moved, I settled into my basement apartment with my faithful roommate. I started at Yahoo!, and slowly adjusted to life in Middle Earth, editing boring, boring documents. I fell asleep every day at on the shuttle. I made one friend (thanks, Luke!) and watched "Ugly Betty" online while copying and pasting links into Excel. And then, I got laid off, 3 months in.

That was in February. Now we're in July. I've been lonely, I've made friends, I've made out, I've been disappointed. I've gained 20 lbs. 10 couples have gotten engaged. One couple is one their way to welcoming their first child. And through it all, I've been unemployed.

The one thing I always had on some other people was that I was damn good at my job. I didn't make much money, but I was always working and people saw me as somebody who got shit done. But the work environment was bad, and my relationship was worse. I could do better, I thought.

So I moved away. I already felt my confidence crumbling at Yahoo, as I felt more and more useless. And then they canned me, put me in a taxi with all my boxes (full of cube decorations I'd used to create an environment of warmth--a replacement for human contact), and sent me on an hour's drive on the 101. At 11am on a Tuesday, I was home for good.

These six months have been full of missed opportunities, almost hires and failure. And slowly, but effectively, I've become this new person. A person who has very little faith left that she can do any job. And meanwhile, while I was working all those hours and settling for kissing boys in bars, or a perma-student, 24 year-old boyfriend, I forgot to meet someone with whom to register for ramekins.

Engagement, marriage, pregnancy. The 30s are all about celebrating others' relationship success. Which is awesome. But easier to swallow if you've got ANY portion of your life together.

I feel like I'm the beginning of some shite romantic comedy, and it's not remotely funny.

So, it begins again. Let's go.

Reality check.

The movers are here. I am exhausted, and very sad. It has finally hit me.

Goodbye, fair city...

Recovering from hangover from last night's goodbye party. I went to Imperial house with 70 of my closest friends. It was a blast. This is the most boring post ever. Sorry. I'm exhausted.

Movers coming on Monday. The thought exhausts me further, so I am going to lay on the couch now.

It begins.

Moving to San Francisco and I plan on sitting in coffee shops working on this blog. In this fantasy, I am wearing a jaunty hat, a mini dress and tights. My hair is wavy and long, and it looked that good when I woke up. I have a cappuccino and a laptop, and it is the beginning of my new fabulous adventure.

Obviously this is the first scene in the movie.

It would not contain the current scene, which is me sitting in jeans and a tee, complemented by a giant zit that is taking over my whole face, a vague headache and a Law & Order rerun.

Sister, please. All moments from now on shall be filmic!