twenty-something

Quick note from Yelli's kitchen on the North Shore:

I'm all dressed up in my brand-new suit, and I'm chopping at the bit to hop on the T and do this thing. Interview starts in a little under two hours. I'm not quite nervous -- more full-of-dread. My Engligh snafu forced my confidence to take a nose dive for a few days, but now I'm over it and ready to be amazing and get this damn job.

(After thinking of many Seinfeld-ian fixes to this resume problem, I realized that my life is not a sitcom, that woman was unprofessional, and I'm human. I made a mistake -- albeit it a huge, horrific mistake -- and all I can do is bring a new copy of the thing. It'd call the misspelling of my English degree a bit ironic, but I was such a bad student that I'm not sure if that's the correct use of the word, or Alanis'. But I digress...)

I guess what I'm really worried about is not wanting this job after all this. I'm getting a worse and worse impression of this job, these people, this school -- and though it sounds ideal (I'm qualified; it's up my alley; it includes housing; it's in Boston), I'm starting to think that maybe it's gonna suck.

Either way, wish me luck... Chin up. Happy face. Let's do this.