This is my third foray into having a gym membership and trying to force myself to go on a regular basis. I don’t know at what magical point working out suddenly becomes the BEST THING EVER and I become completely addicted to it like it’s freaking heroin, but I can tell you I’m not there yet. I do not love working out; I do, however, love food. To keep loving food, I must, therefore, burn some of it off.
Part of the problem is that I am a prissy little thing and the idea of sweating is completely abominable to me. Upon leaving the gym, I am no longer fit to be seen in public. Which means that I will continue to feel and look disgusting until I go through my whole in-depth showering/hair washing/hair drying/hair curling/makeup application process all over again. Which, okay, I realize that of all the problems one could have in the world, that is a sorry one to be complaining about, but still.
The gym does afford me multiple encounters with some unique characters though. From a comedic standpoint, the gym is a truly magical place.
-Old men working out in the underclothes (undershirt, boxer shorts, black dress socks, and wingtips).
-A boy who sat doing nothing on a mat for twenty minutes—he then proceeded to do eight half-hearted push-ups and leave. That was it.
-A man who clearly came to the gym just to stare slack-jawed at one of the televisions. He did this while standing NEAR (not on) a treadmill for a lengthy period of time, finally hopped on the treadmill (while still staring at the TV like he’d never seen one before and was riveted by a soft news piece on “Wacky Sports”), and walked at 0.01 miles per hour for one minute. Then he got off and left.
-Overly muscled fellow who kept glancing around the gym while flexing slightly and making a big show of pretending to get ready to cycle to see if anyone was noticing what a super hunk o’ man meat he was.
-Gentleman who was severely confused as to what a push-up was. Seemed to think “push-up” meant “consummate your marriage with the floor of 24 Hour Fitness.” After a time of defiling the ground and my soul, he flipped over and began his version of sit-ups and somehow it was even worse—he was now molesting the air. After each set/air-and-floor sex session, he would jump up abruptly and scream. No one else seemed to notice nor care. I died a little inside.
-Couple who proceeded to have a “nothing fight” right next to me on the treadmills. I had to keep staring straight ahead, pretending it wasn’t happening. I had my headphones on, which muffled them considerably (I was too worried they’d notice if I shut my music off and made an attempt to listen, even though I wanted to). My thought process: “Wow, this is SO awkward. Should…should I move? They might think that’s rude and that I’m obviously listening in. But…clearly, I have to be hearing this, right? They’re standing right next to me. I can’t look in their direction. That would be even worse. Just keep staring ahead at nothing. Act like you don’t notice. But that seems weird, too, right? How could I NOT notice? Why…why is this happening?” Every once in a while, they’d be loud enough that I could catch snippets: “I just want to work out!!”; “I wish you had a camera right now so you could SEE yourself!!” I kept wondering at what point I managed to wander into a Dane Cook stand-up routine and was waiting for some mention of jelly.
-(My father actually witnessed this one in the men’s locker room) A naked Asian man stood before a mirror, completely stone-faced, and then proceeded to embark upon a series of nude jumping jacks. Let me repeat that: NUDE JUMPING JACKS. Really fix that image in your mind.
I can’t say a visit to the gym is ever dull.
So I didn’t get the job I interviewed for. I received a very nice email, telling me I was one of the top candidates (I like to think that this was true, rather than something polite to say), and they’d keep my résumé on file. I think they must have hired someone with experience, which I understand, though on the other hand, it’s put me in such a catch-22 situation—I can’t get a job without experience and I can’t get experience without a job. Conundrum.
Anywho, I threw a bit of a wobbly, sitting on the sofa and feeling sorry for myself, crying about how I this wasn’t where I saw myself at twenty-six, I hoped to be such a career-established self-sufficient adult at this point, yada yada yada.
But then…I pulled myself together, and realized that I needed to stop whining about how terrible my life is—I do have a job (granted, I’m not pulling in a six-figure salary, but it’s better than being unemployed or minimum wage), I am surrounded by amazing family and friends who support and love me, I just got back from a basically all-expenses-paid trip to the British Isles…it was kind of time to get a grip and get some perspective.
My coworkers were all super sweet about my job opportunity falling through (they had been really encouraging while I waited to hear back), giving me hugs and everything, but telling me how happy they were not to lose me, which honestly, made it so much better. On top of that, they gave me a new opportunity at work, which I think will be really great, so I’m really excited about that (though quite happy to enjoy my summer vacaction—this is one of the reasons I love working in education; I still get a summer break).
THEN, after thinking about what would make me more competitive in the teaching job market, and talking with a couple girls I work with, I have decided to apply to USF’s credential/Master’s program, which very helpfully has a Sacramento branch campus, so I wouldn’t be schlepping off to the Bay Area every time I had to go to class. So…that’ll be a second Master’s in less than two years from now. Then after that—maybe try for the PhD? It’s definitely on the radar. At this point, graduating is basically a hobby of mine. Some people enjoy fishing, stamp-collecting, arts and crafts…I get degrees. I collect mortarboards like a Cullen.
So not to go quoting The Sound of Music, but “The Revered Mother always says, ‘When the Lord closes the door, somewhere He opens a window.’”
Had an interview for a teaching position in front of a panel of six people, which, of course, wasn’t terrifying in the least bit. I think it went well, though I’ve never felt so young and inexperienced—like a five year old in her mother’s heels going, “Hi, I’m here to get a big-girl job ‘cause I’m all grown-up!” I know I can do this—rock it, “beast it,” as it were. I just hoped I proved that in my interview.
Was asked if I was comfortable working in a Catholic school. This would perhaps not be so unusual if it weren’t for the fact that I’ve been employed at a Catholic school since graduating college four years ago…hm.
I hear back sometime this week, so please keep good thoughts for me!
Also returned a few weeks hence from a positively amazing trip to the British Isles, though that is a subject for another (considerably longer) entry, poppets. :)