Your destiny may keep you warm.

Sigh.

Thursday, I called the New Mexico Department of Workforce Solutions to file for unemployment. And I mean, I was dreading it. I bunkered down on the coach with my blanket, some crackers and every important financial document I've had in the last year. I was only on hold for 7ish minutes and the lady I talked to was very nice, very calm and seemed very competent. She took my information and told me to call back on Sunday to find out if I was approved and for how much. I already know I'll quality since I was formally laid off from the job I can't blog about in November and the only substantial job I've had since was seasonal.

So, I call back Sunday and after I'm on hold for an hour, a different woman that actually they have no record of me working for the job I can't blog about. UMM. This absolutely wrecks me. I really tried not to lose it, but I completely did; sobbing hysterically to an unknown worker, who was absolutely horrible about it... launching into the, "Ma'am, this is not my fault." Me: "Well, actually it probably is. I worked for ******* A WHOLE LOT in 2008." The woman tells me I'm "more than welcome to protest their decision" and I can send in my W-2 so they can evaluate it, but I need to allow FOUR TO SIX WEEKS for processing. The whole thing went poorly. I call my parents after I calm down a bit and both of them tell me to call back the next day, when I've mellowed out and ask to talk to a supervisor. Chelsey decides instead of sitting at home and feeling sad about it, that we should go out and have fun. And fun, we do have, including a Backstreet Boys singalong in a bar and later, Chelsey screaming "NACHO CHEESE" to a Taco Bell drive-thru attendant. Man, I needed that.

I call back yesterday and talk to someone who's nice, but still has no idea what she's doing. I tell her about what happened and how I just don't understand how it could be possible. She puts me on hold about 4 times to ask her supervisors and co-workers what the problem could be. It turns out, the first person didn't process my claim correctly. EVEN THOUGH the full name of my employer was available to them, they only ran it under half the name. Now, it gets a bit confusing, but it was basically like saying I worked for "Taco Bell" but the clerk saying I worked for just "Taco". OF COURSE, "Taco" will not have any record of my employment. Why would they? But, because of this error, the lady tells me I STILL have to fax in my W-2 to prove my wages and it'll still take 4 to 6 weeks. WHAT. I get a little sassy, just a bit, because I shouldn't be punished for someone else's error. The lady starts telling me how there's a lot of new people there and the software they have to use is really complicated and they're all doing the best they can. I tell her calmly that she's been very helpful, but I'd still like to speak with her supervisor. MAN, that did ever piss her off. Well, supervisor IVAN gets on the phone and tells me that upon closer inspection, my claim is actually against the federal government (the job that cannot be blogged about was for a federal agency) and because federal agencies are not required to report their earnings to the state of New Mexico, I'll still need to fax in the W-2. But, he says it'll probably only take 3 weeks and that I can still file for weekly unemployment and once it gets cleared up, I'll get back-unemployment for every week that goes by. He also gives me the direct line of the person in charge of the federal stuff, which he will soon learn he should not have done, because I will be calling that person EVERY DAY until this gets cleared up.

See dudes, this is why people hate dealing with government agencies; you have to be on hold or in line for hours of your day, they inevitably do something wrong and you get royally screwed for it. I think every person in the world has a horror story similar to this, be it with the MVD, the social security office, the IRS, etc. Seriously, people don't tolerate behavior like this from a private business. If someone sells you a car that breaks in a week or you eat somewhere and get food poisoning, most of the time, people get upset. But when it comes to dealing with the government, it's almost accepted that you're dealing with morons and you'll have to spend half your day getting it straightened out. Why exactly should we have to pay for an MVD Express when the regular MVD should really just be able to get it done right and quick in the first place? My entire job when I worked for the feds (and the job I turned down in the Governor's office) was basically fixing other people's mistakes. And I'm saying that we all must be perfect at our jobs, I screw up all the time (ask Kathy), but just the shier percentage of failure from government agencies is absolutely inexcusable.

And that's the most conservative I'll ever sound.

ANYWAY, it is good to know that eventually, when this all gets cleared up, I will get some dolla dolla billz coming my way. Especially since I just got disqualified from front runner out of all my job prospects because I didn't have a years worth of working with a specific kind of fundraising software. I don't think many job markets have bothered to admit that younger generations are pretty dang competent when it comes to the fancy computing machines. I can pretty much guarantee I could learn that software in under a day. If I can make a dancing piece of bacon in Maya, I can add and subtract. It seems I'm either overqualified or under-qualified. I'm never just qualified.

It is so freaking hot here. And the 's' on my keyboard seems to be dying.

Gonna wash up on the black rocks one day.

Last day of work. Here it is, the last time I'll sit at this desk, stare at the wall, and talk to crazies on the phone. I can honestly say, I'm not sad about leaving. I'll miss certain parts of this job, but as a whole... Nope. Not in a million.

Revival Tour was last night. It left my heart full of possibility. It, and Tim Barry, certainly made it seem just fine to be umemployed. It gave me this wave of "it'll all be okay". I do believe it. Mrs. Manfredi told me it was good that I stayed with this job as long as I did, even though it made me miserable. She said young people today are too spoiled, demanding awesome jobs when they enter the work force. But, you know, I don't want an awesome job. I just want a job I can be proud of. I don't mind working. But, working without purpose or drive is the worst thing I can imagine. I'd work an 80 hour week for the worst boss in the world if I felt like what I was doing meant something.

I'm going to keep looking, regardles of how it takes, to find a job with purpose. Maybe this is just the Lucero talking... It all sounds pretty simple. But, I feel like it's a personal revolution.

I'm looking at this little paid vacation, until January 5th, as an excuse to dive head-first into creative projects. I think finally, I'll let myself buy the expensive camera I've been lusting over for a year and a half. I've been sitting on the money for 6 months, too scared to spend it. But, I've finally come to the realization that there's really nothing left to wait for.

Now... that's the Lucero talking.

Anyway, goodbye office job, goodbye crazies, goodbye blank walls, goodbye 8am, goodbye power lunches, goodbye MSNBC. I appreciate all you've taught me. But really, it's time to get the hell out of here.

Lifting me higher and higher

The Amazing:




The Bad:
"95 percent of California precincts reporting, the anti-same sex marriage ballot initiative known as Proposition 8 had 52 percent of the vote but was still considered too close to call. Arizona and Florida voters approved similar proposals to enshrine a ban on same sex marriage in their state constitutions... Early results showed voters in Arkansas supporting a proposal to bar unmarried couples from adopting or acting as foster parents, which critics said was unfairly aimed at gays."

The Ugly:
If you know where I work, you can only imagine. But I'm so full of hope, it can't bother me.

Chuck Norris doesn't grow up.

Ended up getting massively upset over working this weekend, after having to miss a haunted corn maize, the zoo, and a speech from the democratic nominee for President. Sad, SAD lady writing this blog.

Work on Friday was nice, I've coming to realize I enjoy a good bluegrass band every now and then. Spirit was ridiculous on Saturday, just wall-to-wall people. After five hours of retailing, I managed the El Rey for Django Fest, which actually proved to be problematic. European musicians don't understand the basic concept that actually they need to pay for alcohol and not steal inventory out of coolers. Also, the bar was upstairs. I probably staired it about 50 times. Cavs are still burning as I type. And finally, I couldn't get the day off from Spirit on Sunday. Despite my boyfriend's pleas that I just not go to work, I was there; groggy and disenchanted. As soon as I got off from there, I headed up to the East Mountains for Kyle's birthday celebration with his family. We had a camp fire outside, and while enchanting, it made for a late night and I am dearly paying for it this morning. But, you know, it's the least I can do; lose a little sleep over my boyfriend's birthday. (He got these for his birthday. I bought these.)

It's just been a while since I had some good old fashioned time off. It's really starting to wear on me. I'm sure most people I know will attest to the fact that I have not been pleasant these past few weeks. But, the end is near. I only have 3 more shifts at Spirit: today, tomorrow and Thursday. After that, only a week more of office work. It worked out that I'll be treating myself to a small scale vacation soon after, as the Anderbenmans and I are going to Tempe for B-Folds on Veteran's Day (no finer way than celebrating our soldiers than listening to "Army"). And after that... nothing. Absolutely nothing.

I can't decide whether or not I like the light at the end of the tunnel. It's there, I see it, but it's really scary; the thought of not having a job. Like I said, I'll still be getting paid until January and if I really must, I can file for unemployment. But I feel like there's too many question marks, too many what if's, and it makes me very anxious, especially given the status of the economy right now. I can't get a job. I've applied for probably 20 positions, most of which I'm qualified for, and I can't even get a call back. It's frustrating and it makes me feel helpless. I don't like being here, in limbo. I hate you, limbo.

Trying hard to be optimistic. I know this'll all work out and everything will fall into place soon. I'm exploring lots of options about possible certifications I could get, mostly in counseling/social work. But, being an adult doesn't feel all that rewarding right now.

Maybe Natalie Portman and Rashida Jones are right. Puppies.

In my world, they do.

Classic Big Head Bedard!

Interweb, welcome Landon Leclerc into this bold world. My cousin Mike and his wife Kristen who live in North Carolina became parents on Sunday, making this great-grandchild number 2 for Grandpa Emile. Us Bedard's don't have babies too often (at least babies in America) so it's pretty exciting. And cheers to the new parents, new grandma Colette, Grandpa John and new Auntie Gina (who will spoil that child rotten. ROTTEN!) Only the best for our expanding family.

I went to Raton yesterday, hoping that talking with former bosses and former teachers would give me some kind of career insight. I didn't get too much, but I sure had fun. I learned at APD had an unofficial rule in the 70's where if you went on a domestic violence call and if after 10 minutes, you wanted to slap the lady too, the guy got away with it. Visits to Raton are nothing if not educational.

But it was great to sit down and drive/listen to music for 6 hours yesterday, especially after standing up all weekend. Last week drained my soul, I'm hoping this week will be better. But, I'm working the exact same amount, so I sort of doubt it. YAWN.

However, after today, I only have 20 days of work left at the job I can't blog about. Scary, right? Well, not that scary. I'll get paid til January. No, really.

The way it looks outside today is exactly how it looked when I left Niagara Falls for Quebec. This blows my mind.

Gas at the Chevron on Candelaria and Edith is $2.77 a gallon.

Gonna watch TV and pray for decent re-runs.

In the seven years that I've been pierced I've been very lucky (and very careful) to hardly ever snag a piercing. Never experienced the dreaded piercing skin tear. But now, after Monday night, I know just how lucky I was because, SOB, does that ever hurt.

Once again, I'm a sick little bee. Maria believes it to be allergies. I think it's stress. I dislike my job JUST THAT MUCH that my body will get sick to prevent me from going to it.

I slept til 1:30 on my sick day yesterday, which actually made me a little mad. I missed out on hours of pointless daytime television, which is by far, the best part of a sick day. Watching paternity test results in the middle of phlegm-brain/pseudoephedrine stupor is just the oddest sensation in the world.

But, kudos to me for even being able to sleep yesterday morning after 4 Tylenol Severe Cold Daytimes. Ever since I spent that month off caffeine, my body's been super sensitive to it. Like, no Dr. Pepper after 7:00 kind of sensitive (ohai, imma toddler). Normally cold medicine wires me like non-other, but ever since the Great American Caffeine Swear-Off, Dayquil's made me downright loopy. But, nope, not yesterday. ZZZZ.

Today I ended up rocking an entire day at work, even though I only planned on a half. Actually, "rocking" is the complete opposite adjective from what I did at work today. But, tomorrow, oh, tomorrow is going to be downright brutal. Like, I may end up in fetal position underneath desk kind-of-brutal. Like, pretty lucky the windows on our 7th floor office don't open kind-of-brutal. Like, no, really, brutal. If you're oh so privledged to know where this mysterious job of wonder THAT I DON'T BLOG ABOUT is, then you might have a good idea as to why tomorrow is teh brutal. So, please, let the waves of good karma and nice thoughts wash over me. I'll need it. Freaking brutal.

By the way, P-Run, I totally saw that coming.

It rythmes with smasession.

I don't want to hear another word about the federal bailout of Wall Street. I've heard so many words about it since Monday. In fact, every word you could ever say about the economy, I've heard. I think it's seriously made me sick. I feel really gross right now.

It's been a series of bad days that has now composited into a full-blown bad week. Yesterday was the day to feel horrible, girly-wise. Just one of those gross days when the only thing you want in the world is a giant hoodie and to never eat again. The lady-insecurity monster strangles us all sometimes.

So, you know, just generally a little rain cloud of myself lately. I'm certainly not content to keep myself in this slump. I need to dig my way out. I'm making myself eat tasty Fei's for lunch and I might try to book an herbal salt glow from Betty's sometime this weekend. Just a little spark. Most of the time, that's all it takes.

EDIT: Spark.

Fall asleep next to me.

Yesterday, at THE JOB I CAN'T BLOG ABOUT, I got a lecture on phone etiquette.

A woman called, said her peace, and I hung up the phone. She called back about a minute later and told me that she felt like I was too aggressive when I hung up the phone. In fact, she believed I SLAMMED DOWN the receiver. I did no such thing, didn't even think to when the call was over. So I, completely baffled, told her I meant no disrespect in the action and that I was simply hanging up on a call that was completed. She asked me if I was normally so aggressive when ending calls and that "if it left such a bad taste in my mouth, I'm sure other callers are upset too". When I told her it was the first time I'd received a complaint on the matter, she ignored me then lectured me on manners and how important it was that I be proper since I am acting as a representative of a very important thing/cause/person.

So, revenge of the retired high school guidance counselor. Be more passive when hanging up the phone, Cat.

Barter redemption for diamonds and pearls.

This picture was on the front page of the Quay County Sun on Wednesday:

"Chase Montano runs through a series of lateral drills on Monday at Rattler football camp."

His last name isn't Montano. That's my step brother. He's playing high school football.

I'm retardedly excited about it. I guess it stirs up all the found memories I have in Tiger Stadium, sitting behind the band, talking about boys I wanted to kiss, dancing at any opportunity... just all around jackassery. Those were some good times.

I can't wait to go to a game. If anyone's up for a road trip and a sneak peek into true small town life, please let me know.

I think a prophet came to visit me at work. I get to work at 8:01 and he showed up at 8:03 with a letter for my boss. He made me read the first page, which was complete, incoherent dribble, then told me he went to West Point and left. He called the office half an hour later and we had the following conversation:

Cat: "This is Catherine."
Prophet: "Is this the girl at the front desk?"
Cat: "Yes."
Prophet: "This is *********, I came in earlier."
Cat: "Of course, can I help you with something?"
Prophet: "I want you to know been reading the good words of Jesus Christ and he wanted me to tell you that Psalm 37 is for you."
Cat: "Okay. Thank you, sir."
Prophet: "God bless you."

So, Psalm 37 is the one about the meek inheriting the earth. So, after an intense conversation with my spiritual guider today, we decided that I'm already somewhat meek, therefore, the earth is mine. But, I really am reading into it. Prophets are like really awesome horoscopes.

Life recently has been:
1. Job search. Two more jobs passed me up today. Gah.
2. The New Amsterdams.
3. Newcastle Brown Ale and Geeks Who Drink. We got 2nd place out of 37 teams on Wednesday.
4. Gilmore Girls. (Don't ask me why. Probably because I love Jess with the teen angst left in my soul)
5. Blow drying my hair. I'm so sick of it, I want to throw it out my window and onto my neighbor's car.
6. Summer storms in New Mexico. They produce some of the most amazing, inspiring images to date. I'll finish you yet, novel.
7. This book. I can't quite figure it why, but I've read it twice in a week. I didn't like You and Me and Everyone We Know that much.
8. Lunch dates with boyfriend.
9. Converting anyone who's willing into the Six Feet Under army.
10. Caffiene Free Dr. Pepper. WHAT UP.

Do it again, please.

It is not normal to cry while walking back to your office from your lunch break. Because that's how badly you don't want to be at work, you cry about it. Not normal at all.

I think you have a song left to play.

I CAN'T BLOG ABOUT MY JOB. But I can blog about how much I hate that static cling has become something I have to deal with on a regular basis. Sure, it's annoying, but just the fact I must wear things to work that are of a nylon-blend material drives me batty. Absolutely batty.

Marky blogged about how annoying that "What are you going to do now?" question is. I really can't help but agree. I knew the job I took would be temporary, but comments from my big boss has sent the office a'flutter with everyone filling out job applications as quickly as they can type. One of the ladies I work with tells me that I'm so young and the world is limitless and I can do whatever I want to. Is it so wrong of me to want to just sort of drift and see where I end up? Maybe my fear of the future makes me completely reluctant to talk about it. I'm trying to finalize some kind of plan for where I'll end up when this gig is done, but I just DON'T WANNA. I think part of it is financial fear. I'm still new to financial independance and the thought of taking a job that can't pay my bills or living without a job while looking for a good one for a while are equally scary.

I think this frontier in life is the biggest, scariest thing I've faced in a long time. And I really do resent it. Get me back into school so I can prolong adulthood as long as possible, thanks.

I'll be north this weekend. Friday night, Marky and me are staying in Raton, where I'm hoping to indulge in the grand Raton rite of passage known as getting plastered on Coors Light at Schwedes Saloon. Small town bars are the scariest places in America, mostly because it's somewhat likely you'll end drinking with the last person you ever wanted to drink with, like your fifth grade teacher or the high school quarterback. It is a DAMN shame I can't make this trip next weekend. Oh. Rodeo.

Saturday night, we'll head to Springs for the Mad Caddies and stay the night there and come back home on Sunday. Somewhere in there, we're going to Urban Outfitters in south Denver, where I am determined to find a maxi dress that won't make me look like Kathy Zimmer.

If you plan on buying fireworks this year, go to the tent at the Eubank Walmart. All proceeds from that tent go to recording a Made In Bangladesh album. If you want things that make bigger bang, there's also a tent in Las Lunes, but I'm not sure where yet. I just know my boyfriend will be spending the next two weeks of his life sleeping there. I told me he wants to just let himself go the entire time he's down there. His goal is to look like the bulk of the people he'll be selling fireworks to. His hair is already way too long, and he won't be trimming his beard or showering on a regular basis. He really only has one decent pair of jeans, so he'll probably wear them the whole time, too. I think it's adorable. This is why I win girlfriend awards.

Deflated is the word for the day. You know what I'm talking about, that one phone call, that one costumer, that one person who's having the worst day in the world and takes it all out on you? I got nailed with that dagger 5 minutes into my work day today. I can already tell it'll be the black cloud following me around until I leave the office. People are just, well, they can be, so cruel. They can manipulate their words just so, to make you feel terrible and them feel completely right. And when all you want to do in the world is smash their face through a wall, you have to be polite and respectful. so, of course, you start shaking with anger and anxiety because it's all your body can do, and that stays with you for about 5 hours.

All I want in the world is a cupcake.

In other work-related blog-friendly news, last week was internationally week (weak) of Tired. I think everyone can agree. Wednesday night I got about 5 hours of sleep, had to be at work at 6am on Thursday, then had to report to the El Rey for bartending at 5:30. I got home at about midnight, had to get up at 5 the next morning for another fantastic 6am work call. I was by the Kimo by 7 that night for BN and didn't get home til 2:30 in the morning. My sleep schedule was so bizzerk, I could barely get any rest. Also on Friday, I managed to pull one of those 24 no eating periods, completely by accident. I ate lunch on Friday, passed out when I got home from work, woke up with just enough time to get to the Kimo then went over to Cari's and didn't feel like braving Valley drive-thru's. By the time I left, I was so tired and dilerious, I just went home. I woke up at about 5 in the morning with really bad hunger pains, but was terrified of going downstairs to make food because some of Maria's fmaily was sleeping soundly on our couch. So, I didn't eat until mashed potatoes and chicken strips time at Churchs almost exactly 24 hours after that lunch.

That was a really long, drawn out explanation that basically, I've been tired and hungry the last few days. I'm actually quite sorry if you read that.

Demo starts in the G-Dub tomorrow, so Marky, Kyle and myself spent one last afternoon in the ruins, saying a final goodbye to the old girl. We threw bricks at pigeons and drank Smithwicks. It's been exactly two months and of course, internet and Alibi hatred is still running rampid. And I'm still taking it personally.

But you know,



It makes sense.

4:30 is the new 5:00

I can't blog about my job, but here's some basics you all need to know.

1. A woman calls me every morning named Rhonda Neilson and she says she's the President of the United States of America. She says she would like us to buy some land.

2. I'm right across the street from a cupcake store. So whenever I'm having a terrible day, I can just go get a cupcake.

3. Everyone I work with is fantastically nice and helpful.

4. There's cable TV in my office. ANTM!

5. Piercings. Gone. I'm trying really REALLY hard to not get emotional about it, letting myself indulge in the luxuries I never got before, like lip gloss, but it's still kind of hard. Nape is still in, because it's discreet when you have long hair, as is septum. I think I'll go visit Noah for some creative jewelry options for it. Make me feel better.

6.With that said, I must be a fancy-pants now. Literally. I've never had a job where dressing up was required. Once again, trying to find the perks like tax write-offs and such.

7. I almost started crying when I saw the health insurance I'm going to have. And how cheap it will be.

8. Your tax dollars pay for my salary. Congrats!

9. I wish I had a window.

10. All in all, it's not too bad.

Other than starting new job, moving into new apartment is going well. My desk got in last night, which was fantastic. It faces my window, and I have a big, fantastic tree to look at. It's going slowly, bit by bit, but it's much nicer than having the stress I had with my last move.

I feel like the shock of the fire is over and I've moved into grief. It's not a depression as much as it is a feeling of loss. I'm not overcome with any kind of sadness, but it feels like there's just something huge missing from my life.

I really must stop reading rocksquawk. All it does is make me so furious my face turns red. Yesterday turned into Hate On Kathy Day. People were saying the most disturbing things. Appartently, in their brains, she was sitting around with lighter fluid and bottle of linseed oil, just waiting to ruin Joe Anderson's life. Not quite true, guys. I guess they missed the part about the fire being accidental. And the part about how we've treated our floors with linseed oil before and this never happened. And the part about how ATF had only heard of this kind of thing happening. One of them said that if Kathy wanted help from the community, she would have to be part of it. Well, that's somewhat true. She was never part of their community. I know why people don't like her. Trust me, I completely get it. And she does some things sometimes that I don't agree with at all. But, she is far from a failure or a community-ruiner.


I certainly found a community because of her.

And not only that, say what you want about the bar. We never gave a damn about our reputation. BUT YOU FLAMERS LEAVE THE "JANITOR" ALONE. Once again, did ya get the memo the fire was accidental? You have no idea what "the janitor" is going through. He did exactly what he thought he should have been doing. I called 5 different hardware/floor stores and no one could give me an answer about the application of linseed oil. No one. Spontaneous combustion is more urban legend than anything else. He even washed out the rags. Repeatedly. The water actually made it harder for the oil to break down. This wasn't just carelessly leaving rags lying around. He doesn't need your judgments.

The point is, it's bad enough what happened. You don't need to bash on the situation on an internet message board. I'm not asking for you to pretend you loved it, that you went there every weekend. Just have a little heart. As far as I'm concerned, that building was the best thing in the world. For several reasons. But, right now, because it held in that two alarm fire. Without much trouble. It could have destroyed the whole block. But it didn't. And for that reason, people should love her.

The other point is I'll never post that on rocksquawk. Mostly because it's not even worth it, but a tiny part of myself is terrified of internet warfare, as previously mentioned.

When it rains... Annie has to go to the vet tomorrow. I'm very much getting the feeling that my grandma's giving up on her. Her health is getting worse, but I'd call it more inconvenient than anything. I think Grandma's leaning for putting her down (something that makes me cry just to type) and of course, I want to fight for her. But, I don't know how much say I have in the matter since she's really not my dog anymore. I can't keep her, and I don't know a single person who would want such a high maintenance creature. Like I said, not looking forward to that discussion tomorrow.

Trying really, really hard to be positive about all of it. Trying even harder to find constants in all this change. But, both seem impossibly hard sometimes.

I look like trouble.

Inhale, exhale. I swear there's still smoke in my lungs. Life just feels like this giant haze.

I got a job offer that I can't blog about. Which means I'll probably hate it.

Fact is, I just can't handle any more change right now. I'm also supposed to be moving into Maria's this week. It's just a lot. The thought of removing the rest of my piercings (corporate proofing) makes me cry. It's always the little things.

I'm right in the thick of it now. Kathy can't stop moving, her brain's just gone.

I'd give just about anything to be back at my grandpa's right now.

Swimming in November

Sad days. My kitty, my dear, sweet Mohammad, is currently at the vet because of kidney failure. It makes me cry a lot, but he's a fighter. He's eating and drinking, which makes me think he'll be okay. The vet's testing his kidney enzymes again tomorrow, which will be the real tell, if his little fluffy body is responding to the IV fluids he's on. If not, well, I don't want to talk about that.

Also, let's say, theoretically, you were offered a job in Washington DC at the United States Capital. And let's say the pay was decent. And let's say you're a little sad at the thought of leaving your home, but you're scared you'd be bailing on a huge opportunity. And let's say you know absolutely no one in the DC metro, so you're also scared you'd end up a lonely cat lady for nine months. THEORETICALLY. Would you take the job?