Pick Yourself Up, Dust Yourself Off, Start All Over Again

I've been dying to tell you all what happened this weekend with Host Mom (i.e. passive aggressive note lady) , but in the interest of job security and privacy I will simply mention that it was temporarily AWFUL and I did cry but I think it may have cleared the air for the remainder of my stay here. Which is the best I can hope for.

Instead I am focusing on what happens in less than six months which is giving me a fair amount of anxiety (Friends send more xanax!). It's not like last year where I was pondering but not doing - I am currently actively searching for a job to stay here. Unfortunately this time also coincides with a period in my life when I finally have career goals and so I'm not sure I should just stay in France for any old job. Any old job in my field maybe...? (And oh how good it feels to have a field specified.)

(My business cards what need reprinting. Notice I missed the @?)

And so I've been going at it like it's a job in itself, wishing I had more opportunities to apply for and wondering what my plan B should look like. Should I be applying for school (possibly another good reason to stay, though it means being broke for another three years)? Or should I be broadening my scope and applying to a more general range of companies? Should I apply for school in Grenoble? Or did that already pass?

After waking up this morning to the news of Massachusetts election results, my anxiety mounts just a little further. Greedy Republicans are going to go on and destroy everything Obama has been fighting for and what does that mean for me? Currently, when I think of coming home, I think of how poor I was, how much I struggled, how I paid one hundred and fifty dollars out of pocket every month to get my anti-depressants because the jobs I had didn't offer health insurance. If I go home my job opportunities look like working as a secretary and having my soul sucked from my body as an administrative assistant. I finally know what I want. It breaks my heart (and terrifies me) to think about having to give that up right now.

But things here haven't come to desperation yet, and so I just keep trucking along. I've got this event to attend tomorrow at the gallery where I interviewed last week and I plan to put on my shine, unravel my best French and convince them that the not only need me as an intern but of what the future could hold.

All of this to distract me makes it hardly even a thing, what happened with Host Mom. I almost don't even care that I am going to have to make rabbit tomorrow before I go. Almost.