That Would Be a Zero

When I was a teenager, I applied for a fairly prestigious, competitive student exchange program. It defined itself as "a non-profit, completely volunteer program, aimed at making a significant contribution to global peace." If selected, you live with a student your own age in another city in another country. Then you both come back to the States for the rest of the school year. Hundreds of kids from around the state apply each year. There are interviews. There are group events. There are group interviews. There are a dozen or so "cuts." The hundreds of kids are cut down to dozens, the dozens eventually to a group of fifteen, the fifteen to a group of twelve. I was down to the last fifteen. And I was one of the three that was not selected. I must have cried for a week straight. As the step-father of a friend was on the board, I found out the reasoning behind the cut: I was incredibly late for the last event. I was going to be selected, so he claimed, but for that. And I was, I was incredibly late. I had simply forgotten about it. And when I remembered I rushed there but it was really too late. And I knew that I hadn't made it. I sensed it. But that phone call was still incredibly awful.

And so today, today when I had that interview for a job that I really, really want and she asked if I was a "morning person" and I said that I was actually not a "morning person" but that I had trained myself to be, I could feel the job slipping away from me. Not from that, precisely, but because I could never really connect with her. We were just off. I was off. She is intense, brilliant and intimidating. And I just couldn't get my footing with her. Although I already work for the department, this position is located within biking distance from my house. As it stands, I have a very, very, very long commute to work. This was the first time we had ever met. And unfortunately there was just no love connection. It was akin to being on a very bad date. We just couldn't get going, on anything. Chuck Woolery would not have been asking me to come out from backstage. And so, I have that same feeling. But I hope that I am wrong.

I do love my current job. So, I have to remember that. But I will be greatly disappointed if I'm not offered this position. Working there would be a dream come true. Really. In all the fluffy clouds, rainbows and unicorn silliness, it would be fantastic.

I am also very much not pregnant this month. I didn't feel pregnant (seeing as I have become an expert on "feeling pregnant") but used approximately 1,005 pregnancy tests in order to be sure. I will be buying stock in pregnancy tests very, very soon. It also brought back all those old fears--afraid of never being pregnant again, afraid of being pregnant, afraid of miscarrying again, afraid of giving up.

My friend called to tell me that he and his wife found out the sex of their baby (due in October) - it's a boy. He wanted to know at what point the baby is able to survive outside the womb so that he can stop worrying so much (he's apparently in a constant state of anxiety about the health of their baby). I told him I couldn't exactly remember (anyone know? 26 weeks?) but that that was parenthood (because you see, I am an expert at parenting, I have dogs) - constantly worrying about your offspring. Kinda sweet, really. He also told me I should have lied about being a morning person. That's not my style. Basing your opinion on one's biorhythms seems a tad ridiculous.

In the end, I should say, that I applied for a different exchange program and spent a wonderful, memorable summer in Valencia, Spain. Mostly wonderful. But that's another story.