Today my dad called me with news of mail that arrived at his house from the job I applied for last month. I asked him to open it and read it to me, which he wasn't too sure about but agreed to do anyway. Probably not the most fun thing my dad has ever had to do, read a rejection letter to his daughter. It's okay though because at least I know that it's not going to happen. Now that I didn't get the job, I'm wondering why, exactly. I know I'm a poor interviewer, I get too nervous, am too brief and don't talk myself up enough. I find the whole process of an interview pretty artificial and lame, but I suppose if I want to keep being able to afford living in this lovely home I better get used to the idea and just get over it and conform already, jeeze. Maybe there's something else out there, waiting for me. Just the right thing, perhaps. I'm currently looking at classified positions in colleges and non-profits, nothing is really "I must have this" but there are some contenders.
We've mostly moved into our new house; we need a lot of stuff, mainly bookshelves for the eight or so large boxes of non-fiction we've collected. The kids' room is great, it's exactly what I wanted for them and they seem to be all sorts of entertained in there, which was the point.
I heard from an old dj friend of mine from my years at Nickie's (which looks nothing like the original). He was the greatest and introduced me to the most amazing sort of Jamaican music. I'm a rocksteady snob because of it, none of that dancehall for me thank you very much.