Under pressure

I have a job interview on Wednesday. This is for an actual job - not a contract, not a part-time short-termer, but a job with a desk, a cubicle, co-workers and a commute (by foot, too!). It's a government job - analysing policy, reviewing grant applications, that sort of thing.

The first part of the interview was an assignment, which I just did, just now. It was kind of intense (if things can be intense in a 'kind of' way). I had to write a sample briefing note for a minister in one hour. I haven't had to write under pressure like that since the final exam of a poli sci course I took six years ago. Normally, I write at a ridiculously slow pace (part of the reason I don't update this blog very often) so this was the opposite of my habitual ways.

Typical me, I hadn't figured out what the assignment would be, so when it arrived in my inbox I thought, I must be a moron not to have seen that one coming! I didn't waste too much of the hour dwelling on my short-sightedenss and got on with writing. Before I knew it, the hour was up and there before me was a briefing note, proofread a risky single time but otherwise something about which I felt quite pleased.

The range of productivity in a small window of time always amazes me. Twenty minutes is not long, but I can think of a few instances where I've done more in 20 minutes than in an entire day. I miss that stress. If this job could bring some of that back into my life, then I really hope I get it.

Good stuff

Thesis, I am happy to report, is chugging along nicely. Although I thought I'd be farther along at this point than I actually am, I feel better about it than ever. I have a topic which I have researched and analysed to produce outcomes. I know this because I had a proper conversation about it last Friday with a few people I hadn't met before.

That was Bike to Work Day, the best day ever. B and I were at the registration desk, signing people into the pancake breakfast. Being from Cow Pie, I am very wary of pancake breakfasts in other cities, but I was duly impressed. The pancakes were fluffy, instead of horrid reconstituted scrambled egg there was fruit and all the containers were compostable. The band (name forgotten, but they were kind of old country) was fantastic - what is better than live music outside at 8:00 on a sunny morning? Nothing.

Having to get up at 5:45 that morning stood as a good reason not to attend the Autumndude's next show, held the previous night. They had come back through town so we met two of them for a pub dinner instead. I couldn't face another night of badly pretending to be awake, so it was all for the best - especially when I found out later that the show went on until 4:30! Dinner was hilarious, especially when we talked about passport photos, always a conversational favourite, especially when someone has one to share, which someone did. Someone blond.

A good friend

The Autumndude came through town last weekend so B and I went to see their show. It's always fun to see friends out of the usual context. We had a drink at a nearby cafe because the venue they were playing at - which was Plan B because the original was recovering from a flood - wasn't technically a licensed bar, though once things got going they were accepting 'donations' in exchange for brown bottles. When we moseyed over, there were quite a few people there - or maybe it just felt that way because it was so small. I got talking to this odd guy who was dressed like Merlin. He was one of those people who has allegedly worked all over the world but has chosen to settle in One Great City! Why, I don't know. He asked me what I did and when I told him I was in school he said, still?, which is quite funny because you're just not supposed to say that sort of thing if you're slick, which I think he thought he was. From then on, he kept shouting out a shortened version of my name to people when I passed him and announcing that I had my master's, which is neither true nor of much interest to people who don't know me (or to people who do, for that matter!). Anyway, he was nice enough.

This was the evening after the run. At the best of times, I'd be ready for bed 10:00, so things weren't looking promising when the first act didn't get going until 11:00 or so. I managed to stay awake for the first two bands, and both were excellent, but alas, I couldn't make it through that last stretch, so there I was, passed out in the front row of a teeny-tiny venue as my good friends played and sang their hearts out. What a supportive fan.

She has her master's, though.

Moanie-pants

Normally, I run for fun and exercise, but for two or three weeks there I was Running for a Purpose, which was to ‘train’ to do 10km in one of those charity races. Having this task to complete by a certain date was really motivating, and once I did it, I felt very accomplished. Funny how that works.

It has now been four days since my last run and I miss it. I had a day of rest, followed by a day of laziness, at which point I was hit with a sore throat which has morphed into a kind of indescribable all-body malaise that leaves me devoid of both energy and positivity. Witness: my thesis sucks but I have almost no work at the moment so I have to write it now but I'm tired. The mirror seems to reflect this dowdy, expressionless face and hair that screams, do something drastic to me now! My posture is getting worse, my only friend talks solely about his ex-girlfriend, and I have no libido. Even the weather is shite – June isn’t meant to be Wool Hat Month.

I am so lucky not to have to listen to me as I search for a new point to myself.

Co

B and I applied to live in a housing co-op about three weeks ago. The whole thing was a bit like applying for a job, only we the applicant were two people instead of one person. It was strange but not.

We got a call for an interview shortly after we dropped the application in the mail box. We expected there to be two or three people asking the questions, but instead it was the whole co-op. It wasn't a big deal and the person who did most of the talking said right off the bat that it was awkward for everyone involved, not just us, but that there was no way around it so we all should try to be as relaxed as possible. We sat in a circle (on chairs! It wasn't that bad!), drank juice and answered some questions, similar to the ones asked in the statement of interest we'd written along with the application, about why we wanted to live like that, what contributions we could make to the place, what we foresaw as problems...

All was going quite well. I was nervous and tomato-faced as I always am in a group of more than about three, but it was nothing I couldn't handle. B was a good mix of even and enthusiastic. After a while, I got the sense that they really liked us. That is, until we let the cats out of the bag (I apologise for not being able to resist that one). This was a pet-free co-op, but as always, we were unsure of just how rigid that rule was so we had decided to wait until they got to know us a little bit before blurting it out. When we did come out with it, the reaction was the kind they'd have given had they all eaten a lemon.

Not a very bendable rule, apparently. I joked about The End of the Interview Effective Immediately, but they explained that this was an issue that had been up for discussion before and that they'd talk it over again, and we carried on. They have this policy because the idea is for the space to be accessible to all and a number of members were highly allergic to cats. I can totally understand this (though I didn't appreciate being asked how attached we are to them by one person).

After another half hour of chatting informally, we were told to expect a call within a week. Fast forward two weeks and no word from the co-op. We had decided in the meantime that maybe it wasn't the best place for us because of the location (a little less central) and the size of the apartment itself (huge - if anything, we'd like to be somewhere smaller). I asked one of the occupants (one of three I've known since long before the interview) what was happening, and she informed me that the place had been given to someone else, which is probably the best thing. She said she assumed someone else had called to tell us (which is pretty funny because an assumption is something I don't think she'd accept as an excuse from someone else!).

So, this particular co-op was not to be. However, also in the meantime, we have been helping out J-Lo with a community garden plot. I know jack shit about gardening but I had some fun digging up weeds for half the day last weekend. We bought a pile of seeds and plants and put them in the soil. The more seasoned gardeners around smiled at us and our little tomato plants, so naive are we to think that we'd actually get to eat any of them. People take those when they walk by, you know.

Now I do. But as long as someone's enjoying it, I will happily shift my focus from eating to nurturing.