Did that title work for you? Here’s the thing! I had my second interview today via Skype for a teaching position. In Rio de Janeiro. Which is in Brazil. !!!!! And I think it went well. !!!!!
Skype interviews are crazy. I was sitting here, in my house for the third day in a row, watching snow falling outside and effectively bring life in North Carolina to a grinding halt, talking to a man whose face I could not see due to technical difficulties, who is sitting in an office near the beach in Brazil, where it is 99 degrees, deciding the fate of the next two years of my life.
The upper half of my body was all business: curled hair, makeup, sweater, earrings. The lower half was all “I’m probably going to take my second nap after this.” I was wearing the ubiquitous yoga pants and Uggs of white girls everywhere. Because it was Skype, I didn’t even put on deodorant. I was wearing a sports bra, with the idea that I might work out later. I only curled the strands of hair that were in the front of my face, leaving the back half of my head completely uncombed. And I realized that if I had to go pee or something during the interview, I could just disconnect and pretend the call had dropped, do my business and come back. So weird.
I find out if I got the position soon. I would sign a two year contract, and leave by the end of July. My best friend is a principal at the school, and we would probably frolic on the beach for the rest of our lives together, dating ex-pats and forgetting how to drive and what cold feels like. At least, this is a part of my dream sequence.
If I don’t get the job…well, I’ll be home at the end of March, and will give myself until the end of June to line something else up. But I’m pretty determined to go international. Nothing says “I am turning thirty and terrified” like moving abroad for a few years.
The snow in Durham has been intense. My neighbor’s car is stuck in a ditch, a ton of people have gotten in accidents, and I’ve spent more time with my roommate in the last three days than I have in the last six months. I’m in actual danger of running out of food, because I underestimated the snow storm and didn’t buy anything. Turns out the body will start to reject chicken nuggets at a certain point.
I am out of wine, which is an even bigger problem, as spending so much time indoors with a person who you know but you don’t know requires significant libations. We sit on the couch for hours, almost next to each other, and can hear each other’s stomach noises, but we don’t acknowledge them. And I don’t want him to see what I’m doing on the computer, but I kind of want to look at what he’s doing?!? Actually, it’s been nice. He shoveled snow, brought in firewood, and made me a pot roast. I’m almost ready to show him some of my favorite Youtube videos, so…things are getting serious!! Of course, the point in showing the videos is to judge his reaction and determine if we can, in fact, be friends.
I’m going a little crazy with the cabin fever. After the interview, I spent most of the day contemplating the likelihood that I could grow up and host my own late night talk show, which I think is my ideal job: sit at a desk, wear yoga pants underneath fabulous top, talk to celebrities, give away cars. Then I thought about having my own cooking show, as one of my friends suggested after seeing my kickass heart pizza. I think I would do well with that, too. No one trusts a skinny cook, so…at least I have a head start in that department.
It’s less than a month until I begin driving back home, and I have started looking at all my stuff like “will I be able to sell you or pack you or will I simply light you on fire?” I never want to buy another thing that is not an item of clothing I truly need, or food I will immediately eat. I want to be able to fit my life into a backpack. Which is a good goal, I think.
I already miss the friends I’ve made here, though. And my neighborhood walks to the lake, avoiding the attack geese and waving to decomposing deer head. And burning EVERYTHING I CAN in my fireplace. A small part of me will miss torturing the cat. Okay, a big part. There’s something really satisfying in living with mutual hate for another thing.
I do know I’m ready for something. Anything. Everything. Let’s do it.