Suburban Goddess

As I lay here, the soft sound of the rain falling outside brings me no comfort.

My heart is breaking.

Today I had my first interview since I became unemployed.

Today I received my first job offer.

It’s not for the salary I wanted, but it’s decent pay. It’s not close by; the company is in the Galleria. Everything relating to the job is right up my alley; starter company, I’m the first one in, only MacIntosh products, my own office on the top floor of a professional building.

It’s the strangest case of deja vu… I swear I’ve been here before. Twice. Only this time, no phone books.

I have another interview with a different company lined up for Wednesday, but I have to say, this is pretty exciting so far.

Hate to disappoint you guys, but it appears there is no pole in my future.

“You remember that movie with Jennifer Lopez where she’s working 5 or six jobs until the day she can become a fashion designer? I’m thinking about going that route for a while.”

“Is this because you have a big ass, too?”

“I hate you.”

I feel this inexplicable need to brand things “MINE.” I suppose it comes from being an only child; I don’t share well. But since the divorce, it seems to have magnified, because once you DO share only to have it taken away in a divorce, it makes you even LESS likely to share again.

Because, let’s face it, it was MINE.

And I don’t like people who try to take my stuff.

“I hate the term ‘ex-girlfriend.’”

“What do you prefer to be called?”

“I don’t know. Ex-girlfriend has such a negative connotation.”

“Do you prefer ‘The X’ like you call Chip?”

“No… can’t you come up with something more creative?”

“How about Over-Analyzing, Psychotic, Nut-Job?”

“Ex-girlfriend is fine.”

I’m kinda falling apart… in the emotional sense I mean. You see, the job isn’t the only thing getting to me at the moment. My love life is a bit of a mess. I have some SERIOUS trust issues that have been magnified by events I’ve spoken of already, and a few I haven’t. All I really want in life is a normal, healthy relationship.

I don’t think I’m capable of one anymore.

It’s not for lack of trying… or maybe it’s because I try too hard. A phone call from my mom was quite a wake-up call today. I’ve always been a doormat to the men in my life. My friend D echoes my mother’s sentiment; “Let the inner bitch out.”

My co-dependence flinches at statements like that. I hate playing the bad guy (many people would point out right here, “Yeah, she likes to play the victim.”) That used to really piss me off, until I realized it was true. I *do* play the victim. A LOT. I don’t like to be the bad guy.

But what I failed to realize is that I can stand up for myself without being a bad guy.

“Mommy, when I grow up, I want to have big boobies!”

I wonder who EVER put this asinine idea in her head.

Okay, so here goes. New year, new beginning. Basically, a new life.

It is what you make it, right?

Well I have decided to make it strong, happy, interesting, fun, exciting, sometimes a little scary, and always, always thoughtful. (Wow, that was the lamest set of adjectives I’ve ever pulled out of my proverbial hat. Topped off with a horrible cliché.)

Can 2009 start at 10:05am? I’ve just decided to start over.