Starting to feel like my old self again

Yesterday took me back. As I mentioned in my previous entry, I got a reviewing assignment from my local paper. For one brief shining moment I was my old self again.

Words cannot express the joy I felt calling in for a press pass. I admit that it felt so good having people once again treat me like the most important person on the planet. Ah, the joy of holding someone's reputation in your hands. I felt a bit nervous driving to the campus, but fell right back into my comfort zone once I was led to my reserved seat and the show started. When I got home, my mom asked me how it went. I faked nonchalance, saying that it was nothing I hadn't done before. But on the inside, oh what a tingling sensation of excitement. If only for that one night, I was a theatre critic once more.

It was bizarre being on my old high school campus, though. I found myself looking around as I walked away from the parking lot. I saw my old lunch spot (Brandon, remember I pointed it out when we were watching Brick?) and a few other places I used haunt. I was flooded with memories. Yes, this was the place that hosted 4 years of my life that I have worked very hard to forget. But the flashbacks were neither good nor bad. Just memories. Movies in my mind.

To add insult to injury, I felt so old and out of place among the horde of teenage whipper snappers. Luckily, a familiar face made me forget all my insecurities (sidenote-- was going to use the word 'trepidation' but opted not to. I avoid the word ever since a professor mocked a student for using it in an article, "Trepidation? How Victorian of you!"). My French teacher of 3 years had come to see the show as well. It was great seeing that intelligent, beautiful, and oh so witty woman (would you say that describes you well enough, Alizadeh?). I've stayed in contact with her all these years, but I haven't seen her in quite a while. I'm rather ashamed to say that I don't remember the last time we spoke in person. Scratch that. It just came to me. It was at Nordstrom's. I was shopping with my sister and she was shopping with her mom. See, my memory is none to shabby. Now if I can just learn to remember birthdays and phone numbers.

If that wasn't enough, I also ran into my AP Euro and AP Psych teachers. In fact, they were seated next to me. They were great people, so I was happy to see them again. Unfortunately, my psych teacher didn't remember me. That's a shame, since I loved him and his class. I don't hold it against him because I forget people I meet the day prior (e.g. had lunch and great conversation with this girl, the next night she knocks on my door and I have no idea who she is. Needless to say, that connection went nowhere).

As a conclusion to my glimmer of hope story, I received an email from the editor of the paper. He thought my work was outstanding (I still got it! Thanks, Blanche). I felt, and still feel when I think about it, like I did after attending my first press night.

And now for something completely different. I had a job interview today, and it was the strangest interview I've ever had. It was at a pharmacy that also sells beds, wheelchairs, etc. to retirement homes, hospitals, and so on. First off, I ended up wearing the exact same thing as one of the pharmacists. I kid you not. Black leather loafers. Charcoal pin-stripe pant. White dress shirt. Navy blue sweater vest. The only exception was that he was wearing a bow tie and I was not. It was rather funny actually.

"We're twins! Hey, Armando. Look at my twin," he said.

"You have great taste," I joked back.

"But you're missing the bow tie."

"That's a great bow tie, too."

"It is, isn't it?"

It was. It got me thinking. How would I look in a bow tie? Or maybe an ascot? Why not go completely over the edge with my pseudo East Coast persona?

But back to the interview. I've never been in a situation where the interviewer is convincing me to not take the job and try to find a better opportunity. "We don't pay that much. You can't make a living off of it. I can't even make a living. And you won't get benefits. No one here gets benefits. I don't even get benefits, and I'm the owner. I don't know why anyone would want this job. *sigh* But call me on Tuesday if you are still interested in the position," she told me in a listless and depressing tone.

Her next comment was also interesting: "You look hot. And you're dressed identically to [one of my pharmacists]. You look too good to be going for this job. You should be going for [the pharmacist's] job."

I left that interview so confused as to what had just happened. Although, I know I do not want the job.

Well, that's more than enough writing for now.

Cheers,

- R