Desperate times.

I had a generally good weekend. I saw the New Pornographers on Friday, which was the first show I'd seen since Magnolia Electric Co. in the end of August. I'd seen them three times already and, given my shitty mood on Friday, I wasn't too excited about the show. But Neko was there, as well as Dan Bejar, and they put on a really good performance. Also, I had four glasses of wine before I went, which will pretty much make me enjoy everything.

Other events from the weekend included more red wine, pumpkin-carving, making tarritos (my name for the big ass tacos I cooked on Saturday night), five hours of The Wire, and only eating out once, which helped me save some money. Save for the pain my neck (literally) on Saturday night that left me unable to move (it was either from the show or when I had to drag our grocery cart up two flights of stairs because Christina got a call from A BOY and ran off to take it, leaving me with heavy groceries), I was in good spirits for the whole of the weekend. So when it came to Sunday evening, a time I usually reserve for deep depression, I found I was still in a good mood. I blame the absence of spending money at bars and smoking a ton of cigarettes.

After I didn't get the job I wanted at Northwestern (again), I called my mom and talked to her for a long time about how annoyed and frustrated I am that I'm not getting anywhere and am stuck in this miserable job. I had already told myself that if I didn't find anything by December, I would take the GRE again and apply to grad school, possibly making plans to leave Chicago. I'm going to start looking at schools again, although I'll add UIC into the mix since it's generally affordable and I could stick around here. I like Chicago, and it's hard for me to imagine moving again.

I'm also on the verge of applying to the Gap because I'm desperate for more money. And I picked the Gap because I know people who work there. I know I'd hate it, and the prospect of working there just completes the maniacal, cyclical pattern of my life in Chicago. Let me tell you: there's nothing worse than having to be nice to people you hate because they're your customers. It becomes very difficult to avoid people in retail. And while the idea of seeing people I hate and wish to avoid during a shift at the Gap is incredibly disturbing, the fact remains that the people I hate and wish to avoid also check this blog. Constantly. So my insecurities are already out there. Besides, even I recognize that I somewhat consciously do things I know I'll hate because I can write about it later. At least I'd get paid for it at the same time.