Woke up bright and early, ironed my go-to white H&M dress shirt, put on my good underwear, and drove to the outskirts of the city for my interview with the Montessori school. Oh, and I also drank about two liters of water and a large coffee during that time. Why I haven’t learned my lesson with that morning Big Gulp routine is beyond me. All that chugging does is force me into a panic when I’m sitting in rush hour traffic and am about to pee my pants. Today, I’d like to thank the kind folks at McDonald’s for letting me perform a scene from Austin Powers in their men’s bathroom. After I relieved myself, I settled into the school parking lot where I sat in my car like a pedophile and waited for my interview time. I was really early.

Being ahead of schedule this morning was about the only good thing to come from today’s interview experience. Honestly, I really fucked myself over with this one. Despite having ample time to do so, I didn’t practice my questions/answers out loud like I did for my other interviews. I met with the headmaster of the school, along with a few other higher-ups, and I feel like I made an embarrassingly unprofessional impression on all parties involved.

I try so hard to be reserved and professional, upright and proper, but I always fuck it up. Every time, in every interview, there comes an answer where I go off on some crazy tangent. I’ll start talking about random things like drag queens, grilled cheese, or The Little Mermaid before I realize how off track I am, and then I’ll rush back to the point I’m trying to make. That’s how my brain works, though. Like Elle Woods asking Chutney Windham why she was in the shower after she got a perm. Sometimes it just takes me a bit of time to arrive at my destination.

I wish I could be that professional type of person. I wish I could be the Ivy Leaguer who knows what fork to use, or when to use a semicolon. But; I don’t know how. I don’t own a suit. Wearing a tie feels like I’m being strangled. I don’t even like tucking in my fucking shirt. All of that business etiquette stuff is so hard for me. It feels fake. Who acts that way in real life? It’s not who I am. And why should any of that stuff matter, anyway? I think that’s why I struggle with the etiquette stuff too, because it feels so unnecessary to a job. I can do anything you want me to do, just fucking hire me! I’m smart. I’m resourceful. In fact, I’ve taught myself most of the things listed on my resume. Also, at the end of the day, I’m going to be more fun to work with than some stuffed shirt tech geek. Jesus, people – get it right! Why is it so hard for employers to see past my stuttering?

Ironically, the role I interviewed for at the Montessori school this morning was a Communications Coordinator position. I probably won’t get the job. It would be nice, though. Before I even left the school parking lot, I checked my go-to job posting website and noticed that there was a new Event Coordinator position available at the Toronto Film Group. The role would be working under Erika, my former boss, so I immediately called her office line and let her know I would be submitting an application. Erika said she’d look out for my resume. Muahahaha!

I went straight home to Casa Z after my failure of an interview, feeling pretty down about how everything went. I made food, ate, and slept. On a positive note, I did manage to drag my ass out of bed after my nap to do my full workout routine.

After my workout, The Store called me up and asked if I wanted to put in a few hours, so I drove up to the mall and did my thing. I think it had been about a month since my last shift there, but it was business as usual. I took a Xanax in the parking lot before my shift and the experience was surprisingly decent. I worked on visual displays for almost seven hours and then drove back home around 1:30 a.m.

I blazed again. Another night, another Pow-Wow. I’m pretty baked right now, actually. I made some more funny, yet questionable Instagram videos and then packed it in and went to bed.

I thought a lot about Logan today. I wonder if…like…are things over? They can’t be. I just can’t believe that he hasn’t messaged me. What the fuck, man? I mean, at a certain point, I guess I’ll have to message him before he leaves for his upcoming Euro trip. But, I don’t understand what’s going on right now. Am I being cut loose?

Oh, God. As I’m typing this, I’m realizing that’s totally what this is. Isn’t it? Oh, my God, it is. He’s dropping me. Logan is kicking me to the curb! Fuck! This would probably be around the time I would cut a guy loose, too. Oh, my God. No. Nooooo! Ugh, fuck!

Goodnight xo