The second interview went okay this morning. I don't have any work background in the type of position that I applied for and now I'm much more aware of how much that weighs against me. But the company knew that from the beginning, so I suppose if that inexperience was a major issue they wouldn't have bothered. There's another cattle call next Tuesday and many more interviews, so I'll know sometime after. I'm just going to keep on job hunting in the meantime.

This entry is pretty bland because I keep staring at the empty tank where Sophie and Sasha used to run and play in.

Sophie passed away yesterday. I found him curled up in his favorite sleeping spot, eyes shut and so very still. I like to imagine he slipped away quietly among mouse dreams.

I survived the cattle call, the reading comprehension test, and the screening interview all this morning. And I have a follow up interview tomorrow morning. Matt has been optimistic while I've been more realistic with a heavy lean toward pessimistic. He thinks I'm doing well. I'm thinking they need people fast, so are speeding through the process. It's probably a combination of both.

I'm sort of glad that the whole process is moving swiftly because either way (rejected or offered the job) I'll should know the result sooner than I expected.

I've been looking through a lot of career info lately. Not just ads and openings, but tips and recommendations for your resume and interviews. I've picked up some good tidbits and some odd ones. One in particular sticks out in my mind, especially since I have an interview (for a job that I'd really like to get) coming up: Some workplaces still think that it's inappropriate attire if a woman wears pants or pants suit. The recommendation is that you should wear always wear a skirt or skirt suit to interviews, just in case you happen to stumble into an office which holds such a policy.

The first time I read that I just blinked for a while. I find it hard to believe that some companies still have and enforce that kind of policy. (I've encountered various dress codes, but never one telling that I can only wear skirts to work.) And then I came across that recommendation, again and again. If anything it makes me more insistant on my original plan to wear pants to my rather important interview. Can you tell that I hate when people tell me I can't or should not do something, especially purely on the basis of my gender :)

On a completely unrelated note, I picked up Miyazaki's Spirited Away and was not dissapointed. Matt kept asking me questions while we were watching it. He does that pretty often, asking me questions about movies that neither of us has seen. My brother also likes to ask questions while watching movies, except he knows when I've seen the movie and wants me to spoil the ending for him. I repeatedly tell both of them, "Just watch" until they leave me alone and then I disturb them with my own outbursts.

Happy birthday to Matt and Allie :)

Next month carries another double birthday: my niece Sarah and my friend Kristen, both were in my wedding party (flower girl and maid of honor, respectively) and both born on the 19th.

Okay, I'm done with the birthday love. You may return to your regularly scheduled program.

I think my orchids are officially dead. First the blooms withered and died, then the leaves yellowed and browned, and finally everything has turned into a dry husk of what once was. Matt thinks that my basil, Fernando, is also dying since some parts of it has withered and died off, but (as I pointed out) new sprouts are coming through the recently pinched tips.

In the past, I used to give my plants and pets non-human names like "Scruffy" and "Neko" (Yes, I named my cat "cat" in Japanese), but as I've gotten older everything has been given human names. It makes for an interesting intial response from people who overhear how Sophie won't stop biting himself and that Fernando is looking a somewhat withered lately. My mother has her own issues about my naming something that I harvest and eat. (My love for pesto is the reason why I started growing basil in the first place.)

I didn't name my orchids. Only because I was never sure if they were going to survive my care.

My box o' yarn came in yesterday and I've been ever so slowly on Chad's warm and fuzzy present. I'm a little worried that I might not finish it in time for his graduation. Or even before he heads off to the mainland.

I asked Matt if he wanted me to knit him something. His reply, "Sure." With most things he usually shrugs or makes a gesture that results in a sort of go ahead if you want to but it doesn't matter to me either way kind of response. I'm delighted that he wants me to make him something, but I don't know what to make.

My problem is that I'm very much a beginner knitter, so he's not going to get a sweater out of me any time soon. For fun I'm thinking about knitting him a beer cozy. Not that it would do much of anything for insulating his beer or the hand holding it, but perhaps it will prevent yet another incident of him and his friends standing around a table trying to figure out whose beer is whose. If anything it'll give me practice knitting circular objects and it'll give his friends something new to tease him about.

I think someone is stealing Matt's socks out of the laundry room dryers. I don't know for sure because I don't count the exact number of pairs before and after, but he's definitely missing a noticable number of his work socks. You know the dark blue or black colored ones. He's got plenty of pilled up white tube socks. It's just the work socks that's gone missing and laundry room theft is the only logical explaination that we've got right now.

In the dorms I used to sit in the laundry room roof area and keep watch over my stuff. Clothes stolen/missing was a common occurance and once I lost a pair of shorts during an unwatched session. They were my favorite pair at the time and I remembered tossing them in, but when I was folding my warm laundry they weren't there. I back tracked right away and even if I did happen to drop them somewhere, they were gone.

The one thing that bothers me about our current theory is that they're socks. Plain black cheap used socks. I've heard stories of shirts, jeans, and jackets gone missing, but never socks. I'm half expecting to find a bunch of his socks shoved under the couch or piled up behind the dresser instead of accepting that someone in our building either really did want his faded socks or is just messing with us.

About a week ago I dyed my hair to get rid of the white. I've had white hairs since intermediate school and what started as a few odd strands has turned into a noticable scattering over the years. I've dyed my hair before to try a change in color, but this is the first time that I've dyed it just for the purprose of hiding my white hair. I choose a deep burgandy color, which on my already dark hair turned out to be a subtle change. My white hair, on the other hand, has turned an intense red. So much for hiding them.

Both Matt and I seem to be wearing down at the seams. Matt more than I, but I don't wear as well as he. Unraveling slowly, it shows in my expression, in my voice, in the way I carry myself.

I really didn't notice it until people kept asking me if I was okay. And then my father sits down with me and tells me that Matt and I are always welcome to stay with them, if needed. I told him as I've told everyone that I'm fine. We're both fine.

The problem with fine is that it isn't good or great. We're fine. Our heads are above water and we're thankful for just having that. Fine is actually pretty wonderful, but good would be heavenly.

Later today I'm heading back to my parent's house to dig up my high school diploma, along with my college degrees. You'd figure that finishing graduate school would mean that you can safely assume that I graduated from high school or passed the equivalency exam, but they still want proof of everything.

I think we're also going to purchase my new sewing machine. Since my generic one bit the dust last year and I've been borrowing my mom's machine since then, I've been keeping my eye out for a good deal on a new (non-generic) one. Unfortunatly all the good ones were out of my price range (my ideal machine would be a Bernina) and I didn't want to waste money on another cheap generic model. Without my knowing, my mom, armed with extra advice from one of my aunts who is also a lifetime sewer, was also shopping around for new sewing machines for me and herself. Over the weekend, my mom relayed her shopping adventure to me and asked me if I was okay with the machine (one of the the simplier Viking models) she picked out for me. I was more than okay with it and I'm looking forward to my meeting new machine.

I'm sure my excitement boggles some of you especially those who don't sew, but no matter what your hobby, you have got to love and know the tools of your trade.