The most amazing job at the most amazing place, at least in my humble opinion, appears to be open. Yes, My Dream Job (also known as The Job I’ve Dreamt About Since Junior High) is available. I won’t go into too much detail because I’m too paranoid that a competitor, a more qualified competitor for that matter, will stumble across this obscure journal entry, apply for My Job at Mecca, and I’ll only have myself to thank when I’m still working in this same cube at this same crap place ten years from now.

Anyway, back to the kick in the ass that I really need at the moment. I’m absolutely terrified of even applying for this job. I wish I had months to prepare my samples, portfolio, resume, and general knowledge that I need to even walk in the door. Part of me wants to wait until I’m more qualified for the job next year and another position comes up, no matter how unlikely that is. I know I’m at least qualified for the job, but the more I tear apart my resume and look at the things I’ve done in the eight years since high school the more pissed I’m getting at myself.

To get to the point, I haven’t done shit in the last two years. Make that three. Three years of working without acquiring anything cool, out of the ordinary or even remotely interesting on my resume. Yes, I’ve gotten some great professional experience, but I haven’t gone out of my way to do what I need to do to get a job like this. I’m seriously pissed at myself. Apparently any trace of ambition or motivation disappeared years ago and I haven’t even noticed. I seriously feel like a piece of shit right now. I guess I don’t really need a kick in the ass right now, I needed one a few years ago.

So there it is. Excuses? Oh, I’ve got those coming out of the very orifice that I want kicked. Yes, I work 70-hour weeks, but if I would’ve gotten my shit together months ago financially, which I was totally in the position to do, I would’ve had more time to go back to school or freelance or DO SOMETHING that would give me an edge. Sure, I’ve gone through I lot personally, but boo-friggin-hoo, that’s life.

Even Mike Ness singing “Don’t Think Twice” in my headphones, a guaranteed mood-lifter, is not working. Come to think of it, if he called me right now in the office to sing to me over the phone, I don’t think it would help.

This morning I decided not to apply at all, but that would just be asinine. So, this weekend, between working today, tonight, and tomorrow night, I’ll be trying to get my proverbial shit together. I don’t expect to sleep at all. I have to get my hands on a computer, so perhaps I’ll go to my sisters’, then after nitpicking, analyzing, over-analyzing, crying, crumbling everything up and throwing it away, pulling it out of the trash an hour later with my nicotine-stained-chain-smoking hand, and drinking a shot or two of bourbon, I’ll thank the god of basket-case procrastinating editors everywhere that I have great friends who are also editors that can look over my wrinkled and tear-stained shit, let their HR-exec husbands look over same shit, and hopefully discover that it isn’t too shitty at all.

Then who knows? Maybe a call-back? That’s all I’m hoping for. I interview and test well, so just let me in there, that’s all that I want.