It's been over a week since I had that interview. The only criteria for when I'd hear back was "soon". Considering school starts in less than 20 days, I expected "soon" to be roundabouts the day after the interview. Maybe the next Monday. So I'm operating under the assumption that I didn't get it... it's almost easier to accept that. I suppose after a while one gets used to disappointment.
Hey, speaking of disappointment, I had to grovel to my dad for money again. Well, it was less "groveling" and more like "hyperventilating over the phone while sobbing after he asked if we needed money". And since I hung up with him, I go through these swings where I can't stop crying (for once in my life I hope that's hormonal). I feel like I failed. I have always had this fear of failure, which explains a lot of my lackluster performance during high school; if you don't try, you can't fail. I partly gave up my dream of being an actress because I was afraid I'd fail (and partly because they never cast my ass in squat)... what do you do when you give up the unattainable dreams of your childhood for something more realistic, and you can't even reach that? And I never thought I'd be the one to play the numbers game, but I'll be 30 in four months and this is NOT what my younger self envisioned for my 30 year old self: sitting on the couch in the dark blogging about how miserable I am half the time while trying to hide it from the rest of the world. Jebus, no wonder I'm having a breakdown.
And that "part time" tutor job, the ONLY FUCKING JOB I WAS ABLE TO GET REMOTELY IN MY FIELD is frustrating as hell, and I haven't even started it yet. I have been scheduled for 10 hours a week. Okay, part time is part time. However, when those 10 hours are broken up into 2 hour segments five days a week, we have a problem. I'm not even pissed that MWF starts at 8 am. What I'm pissed about is the five day a week thing. And of course it's scheduled so that subbing is out of the question... 8-10 am MWF, 2-4 TR. School has either already begun or is about to let out by then. What. The. Fuck.
So tomorrow I will call the interview lady and discover my fate; I will then feed some cats for a friend, call the tutor coordinator and hope for the best, take another friend's kids to the pool, and pretend none of this shit is eating away at my soul.