Yeah, I know, my life doesn't really suck

On Tuesday I was rejected from not one, but two jobs. The two jobs I was really excited about. The ones at organizations I really wanted to work for. The only two of about 10 in the past few months that I've made it beyond the first interview.

To say I was disappointed was an understatement. I was inconsolable. This week has definitely been the absolutely lowest point of my search. I'm really not happy to have to start - again - from scratch.

Thankfully, the sun was shining on Tuesday, and my big sunglasses covered my teary eyes. I wanted this job so badly. And I would have been the perfect fit for their office. And they agreed, but felt I was overqualified and that the job wasn't nearly a good enough fit for my capabilities.

Out of pretty much nowhere, after hearing this news, my friends stepped in, somewhat intentionally and somewhat coincidentally. I had plans for Tuesday. Free tickets to a baseball game yesterday. And a hike with a friend this morning.

View from Montara Mountain

Waterfalls - one of the only good parts of the rainy season.

Possibly a very important blue butterfly.

It's kind of hard to be unhappy standing in the sunshine several hundred feet above the Pacific. Yeah, I'm bummed about the jobs, and about the possible poison oak I picked up this morning, but my life doesn't really suck.

I have fallen for another.....

I saw my favorite band at a local club last night. They haven't been in town in years, and the last time they were here, I was too sick to see their show.

They were AWESOME! And next time you should all come with me.

I will admit to spending a few minutes before the opening act ruminating about how none of my friends really share my tastes in music, and how it makes going to concerts a little lonely. But last night, I wasn't so much lonely as in need of a keeper. Five songs into the set, my ex-boyfriend's best friend showed up. I usually see him and his wife at these shows, but last night, his wife was elsewhere. So he came with my ex.

I saw them before they saw me, and went to offer greetings. I hadn't seen the ex in about five years, and we were all sorts of friendly and civilized. And then they went off to watch the band by the bar, and I stayed on the dance floor, where, five songs before the end of the set, I ran into this guy, from the worst first date I've ever been on.

Obviously, I needn't have worried about being lonely at this show.

The band wrapped up around 11:30 and I was finishing my beer when the ex's friends invited me out with them. I checked with the ex to make sure he was cool with that idea, and we piled into a cab for the rainy ride across town. Somehow over a few beers and a great bar band and a lot of chatting, it became last call. And the lights in the bar went on. And then we trudged across the street for pizza.

By the time I got home it was 3 am and I was drenched and drunk, and more than a little confused about my evening. As I waited for a cab, the friend mentioned that my ex is engaged. I'm still not sure if he was serious.

Splash

Anaheim, CA, March 2011

This fountain makes little sense to me - it seems to run constantly in a part of CA that's in an almost constant state of drought. Yet I'd rather watch this water than the near constant stream of rain from the sky this week.

Abatement

The weather these last few weeks has been wet. Very wet, but not uncharacteristic for this part of the country at this time of year. Winters in Northern CA usually get so bad that even the ants scurry inside seeking shelter.

I'm serious. It's well known in this city that winter brings ant infestations. I've had at least one in every building I've lived in. They're gross, but as soon as you can figure out where they're coming from, they're easy to kill, and they rarely come back. At least for me, but maybe I've just been lucky. I also vigilantly spray a couple of times a year, including at the beginning and in the middle of the rainy season.

Shortly after moving into my current home, I battled for a few weeks with the ants. They were coming in from two points - an electrical outlet in the kitchen, and an old cable hookup in my room. It took awhile to find their entry points, but I've since been so lucky to keep them at bay, that about six months ago I decided to move my couch to in front of the wall they used as their primary point of entry. I sprayed a shit ton of (natural and nontoxic) bug spray along that part of the wall, and settled into my new furniture arrangement.

Fast forward to this weekend: I was chatting with a friend who came home from a few days away to find an ant infestation in her kitchen. Our conversation about her ants, combined with the serious rain of the past several days, led me to move my couch to check for ants.

Thankfully, there are no ants making their way into my apartment. And for this I am grateful. However I'm not entirely in the clear.

Welcome to my mold infestation. Thankfully, there was something between the couch and the wall, so my couch was spared, but this is disgusting. It's also a pretty serious health hazard - and probably the reason my allergies have been so bad lately. I've bleached the wall clean, but that doesn't really fix the problem. I'm waiting to hear from my property manager about the arrival of the mold abatement team. They'll probably tear out this part of the wall, do some things to make sure moisture won't seep in again, and then replace the wall. I might actually prefer the ants.

Whirlwind

Perhaps my plan to leave for a weekend conference directly from a job interview wasn't the best plan I've ever hatched, but it was the only one that made sense. My flight to Southern CA left around noon. I couldn't reschedule it. The panel I interviewed in front of on Thursday morning was only available on Thursday. I had to make it all work.

So I packed carefully on Wednesday night, carried my small rolling suitcase to the interview, and scheduled a wonderful friend to drive me to the airport. And tried not to freak out. The interview went well. And I considered myself lucky to be interviewing on St. Patrick's Day. I'm pretty sure St. Patrick (and my dad) watched over me in the conference room on Thursday morning.  I made it to the airport with time for lunch before my flight departed. I got to LA in time to enjoy dinner with friends also attending this conference.

But kicking off three days of conferencing with an important interview was stressful. And conferencing, though tons of fun, is hard. And learning that they're checking my references (totally a good sign, right?) during the conference made me ecstatic. And maybe a little wiped out.

I'm home now, unpacking and organizing all my conference materials and hoping to hear about next interview steps SOON. And napping. And waiting. Again. It's good I'm catching up on sleep right now, because the waiting is exhausting.

Circa 2007?

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Brian, Steph, and me at the Blackthorn Tavern celebrating St. Patrick's Day a few years ago. I believe this photo was taken before we decided we needed to eat ice cream with our Guinness.

Guinness makes you strong. And also, it's good for you. Have fun out there, but please celebrate responsibly.

Visualization and expensive hair care products

I've been applying for jobs at a local school on and off for the past six years. It's a place I'd really like to work. I've applied to at least five jobs there, and I've never even gotten a form letter telling me they've gone with another candidate.

So I was thrilled when somebody from this school called me two weeks ago to set up an interview for a really cool opportunity. And I've been over the moon since they called me back for a second interview. It's tomorrow morning. With four or five people. I'm excited and a little freaked out. But mostly, I'm stoked. St. Patrick's Day is one of the best days of my year. And green is one of my best my colors, and I'll be wearing it tomorrow.

I'll leave the campus after the interview and haul myself to the airport for a conference this weekend. The combination of travel prep and interview prep has made for a very stressful few days. Coincidentally, I'd scheduled a haircut for this afternoon. It was beyond time. I've had a series of pretty bad Medusa moments recently, and I was a little concerned my mane might strangle me in my sleep. I love the woman who's been cutting my hair the last few years. She's just a terrific person and visits to her salon are always tons of fun. We chatted about my job search as she more than trimmed but less than scalped. Before she turned on the blow dryer, she checked to make sure she could test out some new products. She's not selling them yet, but wanted to test drive them on some clients. She mentioned that they were pretty high end. I asked if they would make me smarter or otherwise help with my interview. She glanced at the bottle and assured me this product would make me by the far the best candidate tomorrow. And then she promised to visualize me heading to that campus every day for work, with my shiny new haircut.

So, bring it on. I'm ready, and my hair smells like ginger snaps.

Upstairs Downstairs

Dear upstairs neighbor:

It's recently come to my attention that perhaps you work un-traditional hours. I think the final clues to this were the few times recently we've run into each other picking up packages from the mailman. I was in gym clothes. You were in pajamas that were just on the wrong side of not quite appropriate for greeting neighbors. Or gathering mail. But I'm sure the mailman appreciated your lacy, low-cut pajama top at 1pm.

But long before our awkward mid-morning encounters, I've been a little concerned about your late night comings and goings. Despite your status as my upstairs neighbor, I'm sure you don't realize that your bedroom is directly above my own. You're probably unaware that I can hear your high heeled boots clomping across your floor as you arrive home between 2 and 4 am. The echoing of your heels against my ceiling is actually quite impressive, and it's guaranteed to wake me with a start from even the deepest sleep.

And I have to ask, what is that noise? Are you rolling kegs across the floor? Rearranging furniture? Dragging dead bodies through your apartment? Turning tricks? Most likely you're unfolding a couch or a Murphy bed, and holy cow is it loud. And all your middle of the night activity, as I may have mentioned before, is happening right over my bed. In the middle of the night. This isn't doing a lot to make us happy neighbors.

We've talked about your noise issue before, and I appreciate that you think you're trying to keep the racket to a minimum. But the fact is, if your across the hall neighbors have had to talk to you about the noise, and my across the hall neighbors have had to talk to you about the noise, and somebody at the opposite end of the building is also concerned about the noise, you're clearly not doing a very good job of keeping reasonably quiet.

So, how do we proceed from here? Well, in case you haven't noticed, I'm listening to the radio much louder in the morning than I usually do. And my morning music selection is definitely drifting to angrier, louder bands. And yes, I'll continue with tambourine practice early in the day. And I'm thinking about assembling a really bad band, and hosting practices in my apartment at 7 am. On Saturdays.

xoxo,
Clair

Safe and sound

I no longer live at the beach, but for years I lived about three quarters of a mile from the Pacific. And for 18 months, I lived across the street from it. It was beautiful, but each time the earth quaked - usually while I was asleep, waking me up with the rattle of my belongings and the swaying of my bed - I pondered my choice to live on sand dunes.

Ocean Beach, taken earlier this year. I was not out watching the beach today. That didn't seem wise.

When I moved out of that neighborhood four years ago, I moved to a neighborhood four miles from the water and on the top of a hill. On bedrock, so I'm pretty secure during earthquakes.

But when I lived in the Sunset? Yeah, I lived within the city's predicted devastation zone.

Looking East on Lawton St. from Ocean Beach.

 In fact, I lived on the same street as the church at the top of this photo. In the event of a big tsunami, my best choice for evacuation was on foot. I learned during a 2005 tsunami warning that the traffic out of the beach neighborhoods backs up enough to prevent getting out of the neighborhood, so I would have been better off running or biking my way up the hill.

I'm counting my blessings and evaluating my emergency kit today. And praying for everybody who wasn't as lucky as we in San Francisco were, because a few ripples and a storm surge are nothing in comparison to the big waves.

On a hill

I went for a walk over the weekend to scope out the office I interviewed in on Tuesday. I needed to make sure I knew where it was, because I wasn't familiar with the building, or really, that part of the city, even though it's close to my home. 

Such a pretty building. It's on a hill, and the views are lovely.

Looking towards the spires of St. Ignatius and Sutro Tower.

I liked this little sitting area. If you look to the right you can see almost to the ocean, and the views to the left include most of downtown.

Half a dozen

By lunchtime tomorrow, I will have completed my sixth job interview in the last three weeks. For the fifth different job.

Yeah, even Count Dracula isn't sure what to make of that. Five, count them, FIVE,  different organizations are interested enough in me to go through at least the initial interview process. This is an embarrassment of riches. I don't think any of my former colleagues have had this many organizations come calling at the same time. I am unbelievably excited, and counting my blessings on both fingers and toes right now. I've been waiting nine months for my time to come, and now that it's here, it's more opportunity than I ever would have imagined.

But I am not a patient person, and the waiting is killing me. Well, that may be extreme, but all the suspense is definitely making me a little crazy. I'm trying to respect the process, and to know it will lead to the right job - and maybe even some choices - but I am beyond ready for it to be done. It's stressful, and today it's made me weepy and irritable. But, in comparison to a few months ago, when my phone stayed dreadfully silent, this is an awesome place to be.

So tomorrow, I will put on my interview clothes and scale a San Francisco hill so high it's actually called a mountain, and hope I don't arrive to the interview windblown and rain soaked. Because this job is close to the top of my list of places I'd like to work, and I'm pretty sure drenched and dripping won't make a good first impression.

Turbocharged

In grad school, I went through a few years where I was always sick. I wasn't just getting the cold that seemed to take up residence in our classrooms all semester. Instead, I'd get the flu twice a year and at least two bouts of bronchitis with weeks of hacking coughs. And a few ear infections if I was really lucky. It was awful.

I was eating as well as I could, exercising routinely, and working hard to take good care of myself, but I just couldn't stay healthy.  In retrospect, I definitely wasn't getting enough sleep, and all the hours I spent in the dusty, poorly-ventilated library and classrooms definitely didn't contribute to good health.

I was on the recovery swing from one of these miserable illnesses and talking to my grandma on the phone one day when she asked if I was taking vitamins. A few days later, I got a card in the mail with $25 to be used to buy better vitamins, since mine obviously weren't helping me stay healthy.

That $25 donation to my better health spurred a lot of research and a years-long adoration of one very specific brand of vitamin. They worked very well for me, and definitely gave me the boost my regular diet needed. About two years ago, the company discontinued this brand. And then changed the formula of their entire line of vitamins to include something that made me horrifically nauseous every time I took one.

It took me a few weeks - and several aborted attempts at taking the bus all the way to work - before I figured out the problem.  And it took me even longer to find new vitamins I was happy with. But after a few attempts, I stumbled upon these as I was doing some research a couple of months ago.

They're expensive (and grandma is sadly unavailable to help me out) so I started with the very smallest bottle. I figured if I didn't like them or didn't react well to them I wasn't out too much money. Holy cow, the difference I feel is unbelievable. I know I'm Vitamin D deficient in the winter, and probably also a little anemic thanks to some after effects of the mono. But after a few days, I felt like I could move mountains. Or at least like I'd be able to survive the dark winter in a much better mood. And since I've survived almost to spring feeling much better than I usually do, I'm calling them a huge success!

My backup guy

I have two chiropractors. I've never given this a second thought until this week, when I pulled something in my back and couldn't really move my head. I called the chiro in my old neighborhood - the one whose practice is part spa and part meditation center. Her office manager plays chimes in the office, and soothing harp music and lightly-scented candles fill the exam rooms. I've seen her on and off for the past 10 years, and I never need more than one treatment to ease any pain.

I saw her on Wednesday, but left in about as much pain as I showed up with. And she was leaving town for a few days, so I couldn't see her again until next week.

Did I mention I really couldn't move my head? Yeah, I wasn't too keen on waiting a week for full range of motion in my neck. And I hurt. A lot.

I was pondering my unfortunate situation while snuggled up with my heating pad yesterday, when I realized that the guy who's been performing A.R.T. miracles on my foot the past six months is also, duh, a chiropractor. And, judging by the progress my foot is making, a pretty darn good one.

Thankfully he was able to see me this afternoon. He pushed, and prodded, and popped a rib back into place. It hurt, but I left feeling 95 percent better than when I walked in, and armed with exercises to strengthen some back muscles and instructions for how to fix this myself should it happen again. And I can turn my head again, too. Happy Friday!

Bears in the ballpark

The Cal football program hosted an event at AT&T Park last weekend to welcome UC Berkeley's season ticket holders (and tag along fans like myself) to talk about this season and the football team's use of AT&T Park while Memorial Stadium is under construction. The mascot came with the team. Oski wanted to check out his temporary new digs.

And, like any smart mascot, he wanted his turn at the bases.

I'm hoping for joint promotions with Lou Seal, the mascot for the San Francisco Giants.

A chip on my shoulder and a crick in my neck

A friend of mine got a new job last week. About four weeks after she announced her intention to leave her current one. She had a few dinner meetings, talked to a couple of people, and BAM - new job lined up after she takes a nice vacation.

I know she hesitated telling me about this. She asks about my search each time we talk. She knows I'm working really hard and getting a little frustrated. When she finally did tell me, I think I reacted well, but honestly, it hurt. I feel like I have to work twice as hard as everyone around me right now, and I'm getting half the results. It's discouraging, even though I don't have much to be discouraged about lately, because I'm making lots of progress. I've had five interviews in the past two weeks (that's up one from the end of last week). And that's awesome. And this process isn't supposed to be easy. But I feel like it's been effortless for everyone else. Meanwhile, I feel like I'm trudging uphill through mud along an icy trail and sliding several feet backwards for every step forward.

It's not that I mind the struggle. I'm happy to work hard for something I want. But the single-minded focus this search necessitates is getting old. I fear burning out if the process lasts much longer.

To avoid that burnout, I took the day off from searching on Monday - a job search rest day, if you will. I slept in, ran some errands, and went to the gym Weights and some core work were on the schedule, and the workout went really well. Except for this muscle in my back that seemed a little tight. But I was careful, and it felt fine.

And I worked a little harder than usual to make sure my back was stretched and rolled and nice and loose before I finished my workout. Perhaps I worked too hard, because I've tweaked that muscle, and I think pinched a nerve too. And it hurts. Today's appointment with the chiropractor was helpful, but I usually walk out healed after one treatment, and I didn't this time. But I can move my neck in all its normal directions now, which is especially nice because I'm going to a networking event tomorrow night. I can hide my search frustrations, but I've found that looking unusual is not conducive to landing a job.

Ladies of the Evening

I left friends downtown on Saturday night and got on the bus I ride all the time. Somewhere between the Financial District and Chinatown, a somewhat suspicious-looking guy got on through the back door. I was sitting in the last row facing the front of the bus. He sat in a seat facing the back of the bus.

I was talking on my cell phone and carefully watching him, because he looked like he might be drunk and a little crazy, and people with that profile have a tendency to freak out on public transit. So I watched, and I talked, and I studied possible exit strategies from a far corner seat at the rear of the bus. And I was watching somebody else on the bus when this guy got up and sat right next to me. So close that he was almost sitting on my lap. I was in a corner seat, and couldn't easily get up. There were two free seats next to the one he took, so I assumed this was a deliberate choice on his part. He cut off my only exit route, and I felt a little uneasy about my new seatmate.

I thought he was looking for an easy grope, so I hung up the phone and planned my quick exit from the bus. He was out of his mind enough that I could have caused some serious injury before he made a serious grab for me. And then I realized he was no longer looking me, but at the guy on the phone sitting at the other end of our row of seats. And then I realized he wanted a phone, and not some jollies.

I got off the bus anyway and waited at a brightly-lit, well-trafficked stop. When I got to that bus stop, I noticed a couple staring at the bus shelter from a safe distance. I looked too, expecting to see somebody living in the shelter. Instead I saw a very made up girl in a serious party outfit - really short black skirt, little sweater over a tight top, and lots of makeup. I figured she was taking the bus to a club, though I couldn't figure out where in the Richmond she might be going. She also didn't really look party-chic, but rather a little haggard.

And then I saw her wave to her friend. The friend was wearing even less clothes, and it was quite clear she had nothing on under her very short, sheer white skirt. It also became quite clear that these ladies weren't waiting at the bus stop. They were WORKING the bus stop. One would stretch out a leg and raise her skirt to passing cars, and they had a bunch of interested gentlemen do a few loops around the block to get a better look.

It was 8:30 on Saturday night. I mused to Twitter that neither myself or the others at this bus stop were well enough dressed to assist the ladies with their work. I was concerned they'd get mad that we were driving away business.

They must have had the same concern, because a few minutes later, they moved to the other side of the street to sell their wares. They were much more visible under the street light than they had been in the bus shelter.  The bus came at about the same time they relocated, so I didn't get to see a successful transaction.