Schizoid Ramblings From a Non-Headhuntee

Hi cruel world,

It has been a while since my last written post. I am kindda’ depressed. And very happy at the same time. I’ll walk you through it:

The depression is due to the fact that it is still winter, going on what feels like 23 months of grey, cold, wet, icky weather and snot noses and oh – I just got tonsillitis and am now on penicillin. People in Denmark, where I live, really look like shit by now. Everyone’s got vitamin D-deficiency and look like they’re about to die.

Also, I am depressed about the fact that I don’t have a job. I thought it would be crystal clear to me what I really wanted to do by now, so I could apply my go-get-’em-personality and zesty assertiveness but I’m still really vague and sad about anything to do with getting a job. It’s just a big blob of puss-filled hurt. Still! I mean, get over it!

This leads us to the battle between my self images. One the one hand, I most often feel like I am – if not THE funniest and/or smartest person in the room, then I’m at least on a top 3. Well. Depending on how many people are in the room. This perhaps… slightly… bloated… self image REALLY collides with the fact that I’m not really getting anywhere with the whole getting headhunted-thing.

I once read that the guy, who founded Kentucky Fried Chicken went around to try and sell his recipe and he got 1000 no’s before he finally got a yes. And every NO just made him even more confident that he was on the right track and would succeed in the end. (Is it me or does that guy sound like a date-rapist? SHE SAID NO! “Well, I took it for a yes!”) Well, I am not one of those people, who are motivated by adversity. I am motivated by people telling me how cleaver I am. “What a good girl!” WOW, great job! That’s amazing.

I am the Lise Simpson of the unemployed: GRADE ME, already!!!

So all that is pretty bleak and sad and fucked-up.

But then there are the joys. Oh, the joys.

I just had such a lovely day yesterday, despite the tonsillitis. There are many, many days where I think, as I get into bed, “Did I scar my kids for life today?” “Did I fuck them up irrevocably?” Yesterday was not one of those days. Amongst the many really stellar moments, was when I quietly observed my two-year old sitting on the couch, cuddling with my scarf, smelling it and saying quietly to himself “I love you mommy”. I was sitting across the room and just happened to see this but that – right there – was me getting headhunted as I was accepting the new Oscar-Pulizer-Nobel-award for outstanding-ness in the field of excellence.

Later, as we were playing around while brushing teeth, I managed to give the two year old the hiccups and make the six-year old pee his pants because they were both laughing so hard. A quick shower later, the 6-year old fell asleep in my arms while cuddling and I whispered into his ear: “Fell, how you are loved”. He felt it. I felt it.

Oh, life. Filled with such contradictory feelings.

…

How is your life going?