you blew it, boy. you really blew it.

well, there went another interview. a black man, a black woman, and a white woman interviewed me all at once. they asked the usual questions about my qualifications, my experience, and, as expected, i was a horrible liar. words like, "inexperienced" and "a need for supervision" flew out of my mouth. just about everything you're not supposed to say in an interview, i said. i'm a terrible liar, what can i say? goodbye (again) medical benefits, meager paychecks, experience writing for a newsletter. just let some overqualified, overeducated, perky white girl who frequents starbucks get it. what do i care?

i really want the library media technician through pajaro valley unified school district. i want all my brown children to line up and wait for a computer, so they can check their myspace pages when they're supposed to be typing an essay instead. they'd rather leave comments, talk, and be with their friends, friends who look like them. they're poor and so's everyone else, so what's it matter? i envy it. i know i shouldn't, and that i'm only romanticizing the poor, but i do anyway. i wish i could've gone to watsonville high. i would trade my jesuit/liberal education for real friends, a real sense of community any day.

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