Today I was more focused than yesterday while doing my exercises. I did do twenty extra push-ups on my knees, “chest-style,” after doing the forty “tricep” ones on the floor and twenty on the matte on my toes. I tried to imagine what it would be like to get through sixty on my fists on the floor. That’s where I need to be by August.
I also filled out two job applications on-line with two of the larger tech companies. One has a games division in Orange County, and the other has an R&D facility–for some kind of virtual reality or animation-related group in Northern California. I didn’t initially realize it was for Northern California, but given the situation with the coronavirus, I am hoping I could work from home if I am considered. Fingers crossed.
I felt optimistic. I revised a cover letter for one of them. On paper, I look good: three degrees, and I have twenty years experience. My portfolio is nice, and I’m outgoing and creative. I interview well, too.
So why do I need to try so hard to convince myself I have a chance? Granted, these places are probably long shots. I’m older than their typical candidates. My education is in literature and not computer science. Not too many women are able to stick it out in my field, let alone advance. In some ways, I’m lucky I’m still working. Whether those companies look at me or not, I just need a decent job working with nice people.
Actually, given I’m still working during this pandemic, I’m very fortunate. One of my coworker, the friend who gave me the fruit last week, texted she was given notice of hiatus. She has a week left to work. So really, I’m lucky right now. I probably have two weeks, possibly more.
My best friend from high school, Leilani, called and we talked for nearly an hour. She is taking graduate classes on-line now. Yesterday, she had a frustrating experience with her step-son. He was supposed to stay with his father and her this past weekend, but instead, he asked his mother for permission to visit his girlfriend. He basically put his mother in the situation of telling her ex and Leilani that he would not be coming over.
Leilani chastised him for disappointing his father. She worried that she was out-of-line for doing this, but the kid is eighteen years old. He wants to be treated like an adult, and legally, he is one. I told her that, by dressing him down and letting him know he’d upset them by cancelling their plans, she was treating him more like an adult. Grown-ups take responsibility for their actions, and deal with the consequences if they disappoint people. She did treat him like an adult.
Karate class tonight, seven p.m. over Zoom. I’m looking forward to it.
