Perfect Job.

I just sent off my cover letter and resume for the perfect job. The perfect job that fits my skills and interests. The perject job that would be the perfect segue into children’s publishing. The holy grail of jobs.

My heart stopped when I saw this perfect job listing. I refreshed my browser a few times to ensure that it was not a figment of my imagination. My hands began to shake as I wrote the most passionate cover letter I have ever written knowing that Perfect Job was made for me.

Now I feel like a girl waiting on the phone to ring with that really cute guy at the end that you knew you were going to marry (or date for at least a year) the moment you saw him. Of course Perfect Job did not even know I existed until a few moments ago and of course I will continue looking and applying elsewhere, but that does not meant that I will not obsess over every minute detail of what Perfect Job is thinking about as it compares me to the other candidates.

But alas I am encouraged. I applied to a good number of jobs this morning that I feel would be good fits. Jobs that I would feel good about going to every single day (which is such a Me Generation concept.)

However, Perfect Job still takes the cake. I know we could be so happy together.

Me Gone Wild.

This week I have been afforded the chance to play an amazing game of make believe.

This week I have been neither a mother nor a law student but a young writer living on Chicago’s North Side. I have been whistled at and honked at appreciatively. I have searched for the perfect Cafe Americano. I have flirted with various cute boys at coffee shops and bookstores.

This week I have read Bret Easton Ellis and Jay McInerney and longed for a time when authors were given the same status as movie and rock stars. Inspired by the possibility of such an era’s return, I have written and written and written.

This is me gone wild.

Fletcher.

Fletcher walked straight from the pages of The Preppy Handbook. He wears sherbet –colored collared shirts of the dress and polo variety with jeans and Topsiders. Though he did wear flip-flops for as long as the weather would allow. When the weather turned particularly foul, the brand spanking new Timberland boots were broken out. A Christmas give from his mother, no doubt.
His straight straw colored hair is usually covered by a Chicago Cubs baseball cap. When it is not, his hair is his hair combed meticulously to the side.
He sits in the same seat for every class. Last row, aisle seat. He contributes in every class, expressing staunchly close-minded Republican views. But, Fletcher is smart.
Born and raised in Florida, he graduated from University of Miami with a degree in finance which he carries on his sleeve as evidence of his future Master of the Universe status. “Fletch”, as his friends call him, is obsessed with sports, especially college sports. While other students may discuss the reading before class, he and his buddies discuss the various football, baseball and hockey games that were on the night before.
Fletch takes his notes on a yellow legal pad. Occasionally he will bring in his MacBook Pro with the prominent Miami Vice wallpaper and play Tetris or check the espn.com if he starts to get bored.
He was pigeon-holed the moment he stepped foot in the classroom. Yet his subsequent behavior proved that sometimes first impressions can be correct. The public interest clique, comprised of the curly-haired voluptuous Latinas and pink-mohawked feminists and pixie-sized hippie chicks, dismissed him without a second glance. Though, there was no love lost. After his particularly offensive statements (usually regarding immigration or poverty) the girls exchange glances, shake their heads and mouth “What a douche!”

Grades.

Law School/Mama:
The new semester starts tomorrow. I didn’t get my grades from first semester last Thursday. They were alright. They didn’t completely suck, but I definitely didn’t do as well as I wanted to.

2008 was full of firsts and it was completely imbalanced. I spent so much time feeling guilty, overcompensating and then shutting down, only to start the cycle over again, that I didn’t do very well on the parenting end or the student end.

I’ve gotten many compliments on AB from her hair to her politeness. But get her back home in the apartment with just me and she can just turn into a little terror. Aside from the normal toddler tantrums, it is my fault due to my lack of consistency and routine (which I believe also contributed to my alright grades).

Law School/Mama Grade: C+

Lit Star:
This aspect of my life fared a bit better as I met a couple of awesome authors and read more than a handful of awesome books. However, my writing fell completely to the wayside.

My sister and I have made a pact for 10 submissions in 2009. 5 by the end of June and another 5 by the end of December.

The New Yorker has declared January National 2666 Reading Month and I have wholeheartedly jumped on board. I got the boxed set of three paperbacks for Christmas which has proved much less daunting than the gargantuan hardcover one volume of 900+ pages.

Outside of my school work, I will be writing and reading everyday. I apologize in advance for what are likely to be a good deal of mundane and frankly boring posts, but hopefully there will be some good stuff buried somewhere in there.

Lit Star Grade: B-

Bottom line: I’ve got a lot of work to do.