Flashback

Flashback

The alarm clock on my phone buzzes. It's 7:45 AM. I don't want to get out of bed. I'd rather lie there and listen to the rest of the world diligently toil in their vain endeavors on this mortal coil as I drift off into a dream about a two-headed wildebeest that speaks Latin out of one head and Greek out of the other.

You ever noticed that? You ever noticed how you have weird dreams after you go back to sleep in the morning? I like those dreams. They're actually quite inspirational.

I'm a senior in college, as you may or may not know. With that being said, I'm looking for a job after I graduate on Saturday, May 7th, 2011. It's led me to make some unfortunate decisions, like deciding to get this mop I call hair under control:

 

There's a main reason why I keep my hair so long: because I used to have cancer and I didn't have a choice when it came to my hair length. In other words, I was more bald than Michael Chiklis after using Nair for shampoo and I didn't really have any hair options. So, in defiance of my cancer trials, I grew my hair long to show how far away from death's door I had run after pushing the doorbell.

Well, that's kind of hard to explain to folks when you're making a first impression. They say it takes 6 to 90 seconds to make a first impression. So, if in that time a potential boss sees me and thinks I look like a scuzzy reject from 1989, then it's going to be hard for me to find employment, unless I build a time machine and go back to 1989. I mean, nobody EVER will ask you why you look scuzzy or why you have a fish hook through your lip. It doesn't matter that it's sentimental to you because you can lock your fish hook with your boyfriend's fish hook on his lip and then say you both have the perfect catch.

Look. I'm not hear to expostulate about piercings; I'm empathizing with you that I have some odd decoration that I had to amend in order to impress potential employers. It's what we young folk have to do to impress the ol' fogies who have the jobs right now. Maybe when the rest of us long-haired, green-haired, pierced, and painted kids become the ol' fogies, we can set the standards. Right now, we have to adhere to them, or end up living with our parents for the next twenty-five years 'til we get the house.

Now, I look like this:

 

See, I don't really like this look. I'll be honest with you. It's representative of a time before I had cancer and I was more pure in heart and unsuspecting of my fellow man or unaware of just how chilly this world actually is. But, hey, it's my best look, so I'll take it.

I've got a big week coming up. It's like the third game of NFL pre-season this week. I've got to look like I'm ready to step up and make somebody's team. And make no mistake: I will make somebody's team when I get out of college in May. This opportunity that The Washington Center has afforded me has been valuable and instrumental in helping me achieve some of my career goals. I feel like I've actually skipped a few steps thanks to this accelerated professional environment The Washington Center provides.

Tomorrow is when the grind begins again. With daylight savings time upon us, I am reminded of the opening lines to Damone's song "Out Here All Night":

 

Summer's coming too fast; winter's been here too long.

We keep wasting our days. Pretty soon they'll be gone.

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