Job hunting

I'm applying for a job! Since it's one I would really really like, it makes my stomach fill up with butterflies. It's very very slow going, mostly because every time I try to do something with it I feel overwhelmed and switch to something else - like writing blog posts. Heh.

I'll graduate in June, and well, then it's time to get a job. A real job. With a real salary, and an office, and clients, and a boss, and colleagues, and my own coffee mug, and vacations, and contracts and insurance and rights and privileges and set work-hours. And other strange and new stuff.

I've been working for this for... well a lot of years. I got in at the program spring 2006, and I've been muddling along since then, interrupted a few times, not the least by childbirth. But I'm hanging in there, and soon, soon, I'm going to be done. Finished. Graduated.

The job in question is a temporary position, and they will most probably want to fill it before June, and I'll most likely not get it. But I'm going to apply anyway, mostly because it's at the place were I did my intern ship, and I loved it there. So I just have to go for it. I have nothing to loose.

False advertisment?

Sometimes I want to make a t-shirt were I've written down everything that's odd about me. The thing is, the cool kids, the avant-garde, the norm-breakers, they tend to advertise. They have mohawks' and piercings and tats and cool clothes and listen to music that fits with their clothes and the crowd they hang out with.

When I went to gymnasiet (think High School, 16-19 years old) I hung out with a group of left wing vegetarians and vegans. They all had long hair, like really really long, long flowy skirts, and cared a lot about the environment and organised rallys and were politically aware. I was to. I did to. But I wore my hair short and had jeans all the time. Mostly the same pair - I'm not sure I owned more than one pair.

Later, I studied at the university and worked for a while, and I never got the hang of that outfit thing then either. Now I guess my look fits part of my life, since I look more or less like a frumpy soccer mom, and I am one - more or less. My friends are usually awesome people, really cool, and they tend to present themselves that way too. Many of them have looks that screams "alternative liftestyle" a mile away.

 And then there's me.

And on some level, it is annoying. I mean, I guess there's a reason why I look like I look - there's nothing stopping me from changing it up if I wanted to. Well, yes there is, Mistress would probably have strong opinions about any kind of body mod or hair changes, and clothes costs money, and make up takes skill and time and so on and so forth. And also, in the end it bothers me, but not that much. Not enough so that I want to make any wholehearted effort to change it.

Hence, the t-shirt.

It could say: "I have ADHD!". It could say "I'm still breastfeeding my three-year-old!". It could say "I once lived in a poly-tryad". It could say "I'm owned property". It could say "I get beaten bloody regularly and I love it". It could say "I'm bisexual". It could say "I live in a same-sex marriage".

Or maybe just a cloud of words: ADHD. Owned. Bi. Lesbian. Pervert. Masochist. Pro breastfeeding for toddlers. Poly. I'm strange and I know it.

Just so I wouldn't have to disappoint people all the time, just because they judge me by the cover.

Hypocritical much?

When  little S declared that she had beaten the dog "three times!" with the rainbow coloured feather duster, I steered the conversation along the lines of how she's not supposed to hit anyone, how it hurts the dog, that we never hit the dog, or her, or anyone else, and ended the sermon with a sanctimonious "We don't hit each other in our family!".

A very good, moral, and pedagogical statement, that was somewhat ruined by the loud snort of laughter from Mistress in the other room. Oh well. "We only hit consenting adults in our family!" doesn't really have the same impact when talking to a three year old.