The Wildcat's Den

Oy... so I went to the dentist office I applied at earlier to ask if the receptionist position had been filled yet and to remind them that a certain person (me) was still looking.  Well, they'd already filled the position, so I was really bummed out.  Mostly because that job would have been perfect with my school schedule because they aren't even open on Fridays and I have classes on Fridays and Saturdays.  Phooey...

And then I finally find out about the state endorsement to be a school librarian - and you already have to working in a school library to even be considered to receive your endorsement.  And the only schools in the state that are hiring librarians are charter schools (which, I wouldn't be opposed to working in a charter school, but now I have to figure out which ones are hiring - the lady at the state education office wasn't too keen on divulging much information).

I feel drained.  Even though I logged onto Blackboard today and and saw that I pulled a 4.0 this past semester, I'm a little depressed.  And I get to wondering - it seems like my birthday has been colored by a job search every year the past five years (except for the time on my mission, of course).  Sometimes it's been good news, but other times (like right now) it's been really crappy.  And it's not like I'm completely destitute - I am part owner of our family's ranching LLC.  But all the money coming in for that sucker goes to pay bills and pay down debt that's been accumulated through the years because of my dad's failed business dealings (and, just like everyone else's sob stories, it's the damned economy).

So, I think this is what I'm going to do.  And bear in mind this is in the earliest of planning stages.  I have a Blogspot blog that I'm less anonymous with and a little more formal, but I honestly don't use very much.  It feeds into my Facebook page and I originally intended it as a way to keep friends and family in real life apprised of my comings and goings.  But people in my immediate circle rarely have time to read my musings (they, like most others, barely have enough attention power to read over a Facebook news feed for the latest gossip).  So, I think I'm going to give my blog a regular topic (that topic remains to be seen - I've been toying with the idea of book reviews, since I asked my flist for things to read, but that's far from being set in stone.  More like set in pudding) and do ads with Google AdSense and try to make some money that way.  It sounds a little desperate, I know, but blogging is something I already do often and to actually make money on it, you have to have a regular topic with regular readership who'll come and see what you have to say with some regularity (geez, now I sound like a Metamucil commercial).  At least, that's what I gather from other blogs that do make money.

Of course, it won't be enough to go out and buy a house or a car, but I just need a form of cash flow, that's all.  And I've learned quite a bit about the internet and the ins and outs about it, so why not?  Artsy people sell their drawings and prints on DeviantArt and crafty types peddle their wares on their own sites.  Why can't I sell my writing?  After all, I fancy myself a writer - I might as well start to profit from it. I made a little money on it in college writing columns for the paper and it worked out. And truth be told, I miss having a weekly deadline.

This should be fun.

Well, my family's "She's-Writing-Potentially-Embarrassing-Stuff-About-Us-On-Her-Subversive-Blog-Again" alarm went haywire today.  My sister, Emily, read my post about my 4th of July and let me know that she's going to be on the warpath [EDIT: Okay, she's really not on the warpath], not to mention that the next time my mom gets mad at me, she'll bring this up (and every time after that for another 15 years.  It got slightly irritating after five years).

You know, no one in real life (not on my f-list) reads this blog and lets me know that they do and lets me know what they actually LIKE.  It's always what they DON'T LIKE. I'm starting to get a taste of what Ann Coulter gets from liberals and the mainstream media all the time.  The difference between me and her is that I'm rather thin-skinned (a term which here means an overly-sensitive, emotional little twerp), whereas she can laugh about all the vicious criticism she gets (makes me admire her all the more).

I guess that I need to make friends with the "Friends" filter (no pun intended).  I've used it a bit, but not a whole lot.  I would just like some POSITIVE feedback about my musings from my family once in a while.  But no, it's only when I get pissed and that they actually acknowledge that I have a blog.  I'm quite pleased with the things I've written on my LJ and that I've made friends here and that it's something I can have fun with.  This is a blog about my life, my thoughts and/or things that I want to bring attention to.

Okay, so you want my thoughts?  Here is what I've really been thinking (the same thing that "People" proclaims about Paris Hilton, but my version will last longer than a coloring book caption):  Is it Emily's fault that I had an XL Old Navy flag t-shirt that made me feel like a fat schlub and my frizzy tweaker hair (as always) hates me (and I return the sentiment), but that she had a nicely fitted Old Navy flag t-shirt and her hair looked great and she wears those big sunglasses well (that's where the Paris Hilton dig came from - at least I clarified that Emily has a high school diploma - would have been a college degree if Em had hers yet)?

I admit it: I'm jealous of my younger sister.  She's average height (crucial when scoping out the male-types), she always looks great, hair and makeup are well-done, good looking guys check her out (not these sad-lost-puppy-dog-losers), she's well-built and she can lift a cooler full of 2-liter bottles of pop by herself.  Add to all this, she just got accepted into the extremely competitive University of Utah Business School (last I heard, she was shooting to get into law school and be a real estate attorney).  How in the hell am I supposed to compete with that?  I'm too tall, my clothes all fit weird, my hair is a curse from Satan himself, my upper-body strength is zero (on a good day) and I graduated from college because I couldn't stand dealing with the Advisement Department from Hell.  Add to all this, my social skills are lacking in the face-to-face arena (but put me in front of a keyboard and an LJ  entry, no problems).  And I can't even get a good idea for this story that I've been "working on" (for lack of a better term) since high school and I have a third of a chapter written.  And I'm an obsessive geek, which I hear doesn't do too well for the self-image.

Emily's Mom and Dad's Golden Child and the only gold I get is from our insane extended family that have gotten on everyone's last nerve and I'm expected to be on "their side" because... hell, I have no idea!! (I'd rather be my parents' Golden One instead of the only one that'll run for Dad's slippers when he hollers.  Most people have their dogs do that).

Take note of this auspicious moment in history, for you are about to witness and grand prediction and pronouncement (well, maybe not that great): Emily will be married before me.  Emily will be a great catch for whatever guy is in the market: she's amazingly intelligent, is going to have an awesome job, has things figured out, is good looking and she'll kick your butt if she feels so inclined.  I, on the other hand, am destined for the Old Mad Cat Lady house.

So there, that's my thoughts for the day.  I've been thinking about this a lot (especially since I moved in with my sister).  I guess it's a good time for me to admit that all the competing we've done over the years is gotten us a fat lot of nowhere and I concede defeat.

I guess that felt good.

Love from,
Jenny Wildcat

PS, I can also guarantee that no one in my family will read this.  If anyone does, leave me a comment (I have it set to leave anonymous comments, go ahead! Leave a comment! [Hit "Reply" in the corner])