Technically, I am waiting with the phone, as my cell phone is portable, so I don't have to sit by it, but I can bring it with me everywhere I go.
Yesterday, I had my third interview for a teaching position this summer. The first was in April, and I received a rejection letter by mail in early May. The second was nearly three weeks ago (see Confession #19), and after being told I was one of the top 3 candidates and waiting in suspense for two and a half weeks, the principal of the school let me off gently this Saturday with a flattering email about how well qualified I am, but offering his condolences because he selected another candidate.
Yesterday, I interviewed for a position at a school that I would love to work at. It is close to home, and better yet, close to my hospital and doctor's office, which is exceptionally important as I am now four and a half months pregnant. I really want this job. Not just because of its proximity, but because it is a really good school. Student performance is on the higher side, and the North Carolina teacher survey results prove that most staff members feel that it is a great place to work and teach. Thus, in anxious anticipation, I have been keeping my phone very near to me, pretty much since I got home after the interview yesterday afternoon.
What happens if I don't get this job? I don't even want to think about it. I know, deep within myself, that what I want or think is best for me isn't always what I should have or what is actually best for me. I know that God's plan is bigger and his scope is vaster than my own, and even when things don't work out the way I want them to, I have to trust He is in control and is working things out for my good. But, I would be lying if I said I won't cry or be disappointed if I incur another rejection. I would be lying if I said I didn't feel like throwing in the towel in my job search if this one doesn't work out.
I really, really, really want my phone to ring!
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Friday, July 15, 2011
Confession #19: I don't want to Wait any longer!!!
What am I waiting for?
#1: contact from a prospective employer I interviewed with on Wednesday of this week. I abhor the wait after an interview. Such a time lapse plays the most hideous of tricks on me. I begin, in hope, to dream of myself in the new position, pre-planning my space, imagining myself doing stellar work for the employer, and envisioning all of the items I plan to purchase when the paychecks start coming in. I have to stop, and I have to stop now because if no news is bad news or a precursor to bad news, I am going to be disappointed, and who wants to wallow in disappointment?
#2: my pregnancy nausea to go away. I am 17 weeks pregnant, and I have been fraying against nausea since week 8 of my pregnancy. While most women are hitting the peek at that time, my experience with morning sickness was just beginning. Accordingly, while most women are bidding the ill feelings adieu by week 12, I was in the throes of the most violent sickness, and while most women count nausea a distant memory by week 17, here I am, still experiencing it, still coping with it, and still, albeit foolishly, hoping for it to end soon. Yet again, I have to stop because, although it is rare, some women battle nausea throughout their entire pregnancies, and I could be one of those few.
#3: fetal movement. Over the past few weeks I have felt pokes and flutters, but I sometimes go days without feeling anything, which makes me feel rather anxious. Although, all reliable sources admit that it is much too early to expect to feel a regular pattern of baby's movements, it is so reassuring to feel that little poke in the gut from time to time, or the swishing turn-me-upside-down feeling I sometimes get, which somehow reminds me of sojourns upon Space Mountain in Walt Disney World. I cannot make the baby move, however, and besides, it is likely moving a lot in there, but I cannot make it decide to kick in the front or the sides where I can feel it. Already, it has a little mind of its own and I cannot control its actions. Perhaps, this is an early lesson in parenthood?
#4: my anatomy scan ultra sound. In less than a week, my husband and I will loiter in the doctor's waiting room, watching the clock tick the seconds before we are called in for the ultra sound. The technician will squirt warming jelly on my belly and on the screen before us, we will see our little one, hopefully bouncing about, content within its home of amniotic fluid. I cannot wait for this moment. I cannot wait to go and hopefully, have all anxieties about baby's development relieved, and possibly, learn the gender of this little baby. It is already determined, I know. The child knows its gender, and it has been keeping its secret from mommy and daddy, and it has been keeping its secret well. But I cannot wait any longer! I am eager to finally know. I have no idea how people the ages over waited until delivery to find out. I am much too impatient for that!
So, there you have it! I am waiting for a potential job offer, the end to my morning sickness, the beginning of regularly detectable fetal movement, and the revelation of baby's sex. Can I make it? Can I distract myself sufficiently to forget the angst of anticipation? I will try.
#1: contact from a prospective employer I interviewed with on Wednesday of this week. I abhor the wait after an interview. Such a time lapse plays the most hideous of tricks on me. I begin, in hope, to dream of myself in the new position, pre-planning my space, imagining myself doing stellar work for the employer, and envisioning all of the items I plan to purchase when the paychecks start coming in. I have to stop, and I have to stop now because if no news is bad news or a precursor to bad news, I am going to be disappointed, and who wants to wallow in disappointment?
#2: my pregnancy nausea to go away. I am 17 weeks pregnant, and I have been fraying against nausea since week 8 of my pregnancy. While most women are hitting the peek at that time, my experience with morning sickness was just beginning. Accordingly, while most women are bidding the ill feelings adieu by week 12, I was in the throes of the most violent sickness, and while most women count nausea a distant memory by week 17, here I am, still experiencing it, still coping with it, and still, albeit foolishly, hoping for it to end soon. Yet again, I have to stop because, although it is rare, some women battle nausea throughout their entire pregnancies, and I could be one of those few.
#3: fetal movement. Over the past few weeks I have felt pokes and flutters, but I sometimes go days without feeling anything, which makes me feel rather anxious. Although, all reliable sources admit that it is much too early to expect to feel a regular pattern of baby's movements, it is so reassuring to feel that little poke in the gut from time to time, or the swishing turn-me-upside-down feeling I sometimes get, which somehow reminds me of sojourns upon Space Mountain in Walt Disney World. I cannot make the baby move, however, and besides, it is likely moving a lot in there, but I cannot make it decide to kick in the front or the sides where I can feel it. Already, it has a little mind of its own and I cannot control its actions. Perhaps, this is an early lesson in parenthood?
#4: my anatomy scan ultra sound. In less than a week, my husband and I will loiter in the doctor's waiting room, watching the clock tick the seconds before we are called in for the ultra sound. The technician will squirt warming jelly on my belly and on the screen before us, we will see our little one, hopefully bouncing about, content within its home of amniotic fluid. I cannot wait for this moment. I cannot wait to go and hopefully, have all anxieties about baby's development relieved, and possibly, learn the gender of this little baby. It is already determined, I know. The child knows its gender, and it has been keeping its secret from mommy and daddy, and it has been keeping its secret well. But I cannot wait any longer! I am eager to finally know. I have no idea how people the ages over waited until delivery to find out. I am much too impatient for that!
So, there you have it! I am waiting for a potential job offer, the end to my morning sickness, the beginning of regularly detectable fetal movement, and the revelation of baby's sex. Can I make it? Can I distract myself sufficiently to forget the angst of anticipation? I will try.
Friday, April 1, 2011
Confession #18: Mode or Queens?
Let me explain. I have recently become infatuated with the charmingly witty comedy series, Ugly Betty. I owe all my thanks to Netflix instant streaming, since the show is no longer on the air.
Betty Suarez is a latina from Queens who acquires the position of executive assistant to the wealthy bachelor, Daniel Mead, Editor in Chief for Mode Magazine. A fish out of water, Betty transcends the supercilious back stabbing world of fashion-dom by being her intelligent, and sometimes naive, self. While Betty's character embodies wholesome purity and goodness, one cannot help but wish for a makeover for her, while simultaneously coveting the bodies/wardrobes of her trendy, pretentious peers.
And this brings me to my ultimate confession. While Mode Magazine is a symbol of style and chic elegance, Ugly Betty and her middle class Queens family and abode represent reality, down to earth, and raw. While I would love to consider myself worthy of the symbol so elegantly represented by Mode, who am I really?
The answer lies in my blanket. Yes. My blanket. Today, while watching a second episode of Ugly Betty on my instant queue, I happened to notice Betty's nephew, Justin, nestled on the couch after a long day helping his working class mother bake muffins for her new entrepreneurial venture, upon my blanket. Yes, thrown across the back of the Suarez family couch was a woven blanket in burnt red and olive, the very same blanket that, at that exact instant, I was cocooning myself with in the name of cozy comfort. So, who am I? Mode or Queens? Well, I believe it is fully apparent: I am Queens. I shop at the same store as Betty Suarez!
Betty Suarez is a latina from Queens who acquires the position of executive assistant to the wealthy bachelor, Daniel Mead, Editor in Chief for Mode Magazine. A fish out of water, Betty transcends the supercilious back stabbing world of fashion-dom by being her intelligent, and sometimes naive, self. While Betty's character embodies wholesome purity and goodness, one cannot help but wish for a makeover for her, while simultaneously coveting the bodies/wardrobes of her trendy, pretentious peers.
And this brings me to my ultimate confession. While Mode Magazine is a symbol of style and chic elegance, Ugly Betty and her middle class Queens family and abode represent reality, down to earth, and raw. While I would love to consider myself worthy of the symbol so elegantly represented by Mode, who am I really?
The answer lies in my blanket. Yes. My blanket. Today, while watching a second episode of Ugly Betty on my instant queue, I happened to notice Betty's nephew, Justin, nestled on the couch after a long day helping his working class mother bake muffins for her new entrepreneurial venture, upon my blanket. Yes, thrown across the back of the Suarez family couch was a woven blanket in burnt red and olive, the very same blanket that, at that exact instant, I was cocooning myself with in the name of cozy comfort. So, who am I? Mode or Queens? Well, I believe it is fully apparent: I am Queens. I shop at the same store as Betty Suarez!
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