The Reception Temperature in San Diego is pretty chilly. Don't be misled; San Diego literally is somewhere between 60 to 80 degrees Fahrenheit most of the time - I don't mean how warm it is. When it comes to how well I'm settling in and making a life for myself, well, let's just say that San Diego isn't helping. Most of the time, the above picture demonstrates quite well how I feel: lackluster. Sure, I look smart, but also shy, and apparently that doesn't go over well when competing against 500 other applicants for every single available position; when qualifications have leveled the playing field, personality becomes the litmus test for every job. Unfortunately, I haven't yet figured out how to turn my peculiar version of friendliness into something less awkward than announcing in an interview that I wanted to work in a chiropractor's office because I want to study the human anatomy when really, I just want a job. And really, who are these people to make a receptionist job out to be the end-all and be-all of all jobs and only select those people who're dying to make minimum wage when they can get a perfectly capable and friendly college graduate instead?
I digress. It makes me feel like this inside:
Today, however, being a Saturday, I took it as a Sabbath day and nixed any applications I could be putting out. For some reason, I felt unreasonably attractive. Could be the glow; maybe San Diego's rubbing off on me despite my bitter grudge.