My current boss is going to be moving to a new role at the company so we're going through the process of hiring her replacement.

9/10 times in my life I assume my opinion with these things is not being solicited, and because of that, 5/10 times I refrain from giving it. But now it seems as though I'll actually be part of the process and will get my very own interview with the candidates who make it past a certain round.

My relationship with being interviewed started early. And by being interviewed, I mean the judgment kind, not the Vanity Fair feature kind (any day now). I remember meeting with the guidance counselor in elementary school while they asked me strategic questions meant to determine my worthiness for the "Gifted" Program, the name of which I'm now realizing is really problematic. I remember just instinctively knowing the right answers. Not necessarily the most accurate answers, but the answers they wanted to hear. I actually remember thinking, as I sat in a small room with a few other kids doing logic puzzles, that basically, I had auditioned to have more work shoved down my throat.

And it continued. In high school, I went through the process of applying to be a Rotary Exchange Student. This process included about 8 million interviews- both one on one, and group interviews, where you're pitted against other overachievers in a suburban Hunger Game.

I'm not saying I said anything to get ahead, because (for the most part) I didn't fabricate. I tried to be as truthful as possible. But I'd be lying to you now if I didn't say my interview skills were developed mostly due to a vague longing to be special an acute fear of failure- definitely not based on any real confidence, or any interest in speaking to strangers. Strangers are the actual worst.

My first interview in NYC for a Real Job was for a receptionist job at an audio post house. It was awful. I was shown into one of the studios and asked some mild questions by a man with a ponytail and a Dream Theater shirt. He was pleasant enough and I thought things were going great. Then the owner showed up.

He strode in 25 minutes late, all ill-fitting leather and Invisalign, looked me up and down, and without introducing himself he simply said "I hope you're not interested in moving up in this company, because this is a receptionist job and I'd rather not waste my time talking with you if you have other plans."

He didn't ask me a single question but suddenly I was tanking it. I felt so stung. I remember afterwards going to get coffee at a coffee shop where my friend worked and sitting there and just feeling so screwed and sad.

Over the next few years, I tried to hone my skills, determined to not feel that way again. I did my best to figure out how to seem ambitious, but humble. Outgoing but attentive. Qualified, but not overqualified. It gets a little easier I guess, but it's still exhausting.

And now I'm on the other side. And I'm honestly just as exhausted by the prospect of trying to evaluate someone else.

Whatever I do, I've been keeping episodes of 30 Rock on in the background. I hear it's going to be removed from Netflix in November which gives me very little time to play the entire series 6-8 more times while I don't pay attention.

But seriously (because we're serious here)- I find that certain TV shows actually relieve a lot of my anxiety, the anxiety that makes its appearance when I get home, take off my pants and begin judging my life. Gilmore Girls, The Office and 30 Rock all inspire a sense of relative calm in me. I honestly think it's because the stakes are so low and every problem that pops up is solved by the end of each episode. It makes problems in general feel solvable.

So. I'm trying to make some changes. September feels like a decent time to take those pantless judgements of my life and attempt to make positive changes. This school year for example I'm going to stop eating carbs, and read The Alchemist, and finish knitting this scarf I started in 2010.

But seriously (again with the seriousness, ugh) that's all insane and I'm definitely not doing any of those horrible things. I don't fuck with a scale, I eat ice cream and then run around, or I go to boxing where I both punch things and try to look cute in front of the hot trainer there. And frankly I'm doing a damn good job if we use his Instagram likes of pictures of my face as a barometer, which I do.

 I already read The Alchemist and would give my left nut to have that hour and a half back. And I've carried that half-scarf around to 6 different apartments at this point- it feels insulting to the scarf to "finish" it. What does finished even look like? Who is ever really finished?

My actual hopes for this year:

1) Leave work at work. (THIS IS SO HARD WHY)

2) Find a rad person to hang out with and smooch. (THIS IS LESS HARD BUT NOT EASY)

3) Educate myself about the Watergate scandal... something about Nixon and a hotel and wiretapping? (This one is horrifying to admit but WE'RE ALL FRIENDS HERE I know about other stuff)

4) Write lots of things for you.

4.5) And do it with honesty and maximum vulnerability. And that's fucking scary. But let's give it a try.

*I reserve the right to add to this list

**Or subtract

I just went through my old blog from my early teens to see if I could get some inspiration/confidence for this new shiny blog. It’s crazy to read posts that are in my voice from 12-13 years ago.

My last post was this dramatic goodbye when I left for my junior year in Thailand. I said that I would no longer be blogging, and wished everyone good luck and told them I would miss them. Some of the standout comments on that post, with 2017 Rose’s comments, include:

Have lots of fun in Thailand! I’ll have trouble finding another lab partner as much fun as you!
    -I was terrible at science. But that’s probably why they used the word “fun” not “good”. I remember having a big crush on my chemistry teacher.

Have an excellent time.  Chemistry was a blast.
    -There is no way this was a blast.

Just ’cause you’re an MC doesn’t mean you get to be an asshole, just ’cause you’re a man doesn’t mean you get to act like a bitttttttch
    -I mean I think this one is self explanatory.

You fucker you could easily update this but you don’t.
    -Not wrong.

Hm. Did I really think that I was going to never post things about myself on the internet ever again? Adorable.