You want some candy, Little Girl?

It's sort of tragic how melancholy I am today.

So here's a dilemma and I could use some advice: I accepted a temp position that would be for two weeks, but somewhere in there (mainly next Monday) is my Alvin Ailey audition. Do I call the temp agency and tell them if they want me for that job that someone needs to cover for me, respectfully decline the position saying another conflict came up, or what? I need the money and temp agencies are nothing if not passive aggressive and if you screw them they will do their damnedest to screw you back and I need money.

What do I do?

I suppose I shouldn't care. I don't want to temp and I don't want the job they offered. I do want to dance. So why do I care? And what's the diplomatic way of approaching the situation?

Because just as rent passes, it looms again in the future. But there's the law firm position that I'm interviewing for this week and that would earn me more money than I can possibly imagine. So do I hold out for that? If it falls through, there is no end to how royally screwed I will be, but Marina says that my chances are very good. And they don't drug test--hoozah!

I don't know. I looked at myself today (another one-day boring ass reception job) and it was the first time I really thought I looked my age. I kinda found it sad that I look as old as I am. But then I went to go get cigarettes and got carded, even in my business suit, and it cheered me up a bit.

I'm still sad, though. Don't know why. I've been on a happy-binge for a couple of days and I guess this is just the come-down. For no reason at all, I started crying in the elevator up to the 29th floor.

Things aren't too bad. In fact, comparatively, things look much better than they did even a few weeks ago. There's even a decent boy prospect on the horizon. But more on that as it develops, or not. I put very little stock in boys these days. There's always a catch, always an anvil that's waiting to be dropped on your head as you turn around the bend.

Maybe I'm ovulating or something. Maybe it's the aftermath of the Incredible Jeejer Cream. Sure, intense pleasure and even more intense orgasm, but maybe it's worse than coming down from X or cocaine.

Chances are I just need to stop feeling sorry for myself. But blogs are nothing if not self-indulgent and whiny. I promise I'll try to be happy and funny tomorrow.