Venting.

I would like to sit here, drinking hot cocoa, and never write another cover letter ever ever ever.

I've applied to 35 jobs total. Or is that 40 now? I've had two interviews. I don't want to have to do this whole process anymore. It is hard enough getting a phone call; and receiving a job offer is something else altogether. The interview at the university was this morning. I dressed in black pants, a pretty green shirt, and wore my glasses to look "intellectual." I also carried with me a black leather portfolio and notebook to convey "serious." I sat in front of a panel of five women in a barren conference room and let them attack with questions. Three were editors. I felt an instant rapport with the head editor. She seemed to like me and I liked her. But the book publication editor was more skeptical about my editing strength, and I felt like she had placed me under a fine magnifying glass, searching for some inevitable flaw. "It's clear that you're more of a writer than an editor," she said outright, reviewing my history, after I had devoted a half hour attempting to sell myself with a strong editing bent. I tried to transform her comment (err.. edit her comment). I tried to point out that it might be an asset for their department to have an editor with a background as a writer since I would be corresponding regularly with contributing writers. I sensed she did not seem too convinced. A master's degree in English apparently does not get one too far.

We talked for about an hour in all and I thanked them for meeting with me. I have absolutely no idea where I stand on their chart of candidates. I'm afraid that the fact that I'm a writer is going to be the deal breaker. I have 100 percent confidence that I could do the job and to know that I came so close....

royally bites.

I would love to do it. I suppose I might be surprised next week. Their department could call with some good news. Today, I chalk it up as a learning experience and conversation with more people I will never see again.

My mom met me at the grocery store later on and literally filled the entire shopping cart to the top with food. The cart was almost overflowing. No one has ever bought that much food for me at once in my life. I can prove it to you with my well-stocked fridge and cupboards now. I had to make five separate trips back to the car to carry everything inside. She is seriously trying to fatten me up. After I could not eat an entire bowl of Pad Thai with shrimp, I found myself thinking: You've gotta love the fat girl as much as the thin girl. How about some self acceptance?

My mom thinks my cat is too fat. Mischa is purr-fect. I remember an ex-boyfriend's cat, George, who weighed over 20 pounds. His belly grazed the floor when he walked. He has since placed George on a diet.