Since being back, I have been obsessed with photographing myself. Now, the vanity has always been in me, except I think I do it because I am trying to capture something. Some visible part of myself that is all at once beautiful and present, because I need to be able to see it right in front of me. Otherwise, I may not really believe I am here. And in these photographs, I know I exist in these brief and pixelated moments of either smiles or frowns. Or blank stares.
The search for employment has been really challenging. And with all difficult things in life, it has forced me to learn about strengths and weaknesses, as well as trying to see through the fog of countless job postings, who I am right now in life. Or at least who I'm not.
My interview yesterday in Long Beach for the Cambodian Association of America went really well. In the sense that I spoke with great articulation and eloquence in each of the lengthy answers I had to give as I was being dually questioned. But I also know that I will not get this job. I have neither the credentials or the lingual fluency that I learned they were really looking for. But my passion for children, my deep love for Khmer people, those things were evident.
Before my interview, I stood in front of a large painting of the fields in Cambodia during the rainy season as men and oxen plowed the earth for rice and harvest. Then later I was on facebook looking at recent photos a friend posted of the exact same image, with the fields awashed with the most brilliant green. I cried a little during both moments because I became so aware of my distance. Taking the sentimentality of Dorothy, I whispered quietly to myself, "I'm not in Cambodia anymore."
I've been back for a month and I am still rocked and fogged by my emotions. They come in waves now, hitting me mostly at night, and especially if I indulge myself in nostalgia - yes, it is indulgent and dangerous. But for all the energy I exert in letting myself miss Cam as much as I do, I have probably put in twice the time in looking for a job.
In realizing my youth, at the tender age of almost-22, I'm not ready for a big job. I'm so grateful for my major and what it has given me. For the path I have been led on, it couldn't have happened any other way. But I'm also completely aware of my limitations, and my seemingly lack of "marketable skills". What, it's not enough that I just really like people and want to help the poor? So... to food services I return. But you know, that's okay too.
I return to downtown tomorrow for an interview with a new coffee place that's opening near the MOCA. Then, on Monday, I have a second interview with Roy's in Pasadena. The application process was gruesome, complete with on-the-spot screening, followed by a 130-question test (math, verbal, psychological). I have to put on my best classy with them, which is a little stressful. If I get the gig and you guys have about $100 to spare for a meal, I might be a pretty little hostess for you.
I do these things. I go out to these interviews. I dress the part. I talk it up. I know myself capable of these various positions but I know my heart isn't really in it. And I actually have to be okay with that. I think my journey right now, the spiritual and emotional challenge in my life, is to just do these things until I don't have to. But when I feel the pressure build up and my sadness overwhelming, I retreat. I go to places like Sunnydale or Neptune.
Whatever the escape or lie that can comfort me for a little while.
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