Day of Writing (Not the Fun Kind)

I've been in a cover-letter-rewriting and job-applying tunnel all day, which is fine since it was really cold and foggy here today and easy to stay inside and get lots done. Cover letters are a strange beast. I'm someone who generally enjoys writing, and never really dreads it, but writing cover letters is something I absolutely hate. I'm not sure what it is about them, but it seems a universal truth that everyone despises writing them. There's something about summing up all of your experiences in a relevant way, using such carefully selected words, that is stupidly tedious and time-consuming. Then, of course, there's the understanding that everything you write will play such a role in whether or not some company calls you in for an interview. After a couple of hours of this, plus searching for the right jobs, my head starts to swim. Oh well, best to make the best use of this time when I'm not temping. If I'm not getting paid, I might as well be doing something productive!

Ok, enough of that. Now for something completely different. This is neither fiction nor pure truth. I just went with it today - with the prompt of "games people play."

I don't like routine, so I always try to keep people on their toes. When someone never knows what to expect from me, I consider it a personal victory.
It doesn't hurt my cause that I'm moody by nature, and sometimes see each interaction I have in a given day as a new opportunity to exorcise, even in some small way, how how I feel at that moment. Even if it's just thanking the coffee guy, or nervously smiling at someone new, there's definite transparency to how I act, for better or worse.
At the same time, I can be painfully self-conscious or unnecessarily confident, which factors into the equation as well. I realize that I'm effectively describing every hot-blooded woman ever, but I think everyone likes to believe that they are different, and the way their lives interlock with those of others is unique.
I like to think that a lot of people "know" who I am, and that I am not often guarded or performing in some way. I am more or less consistent, and maybe the shifts I make in myself aren't noticeable to others, but I believe this little charade I play is less me running with my multitude of emotions than a way to continually keep things interesting.

I leave you with this, a picture of "productivity." Plans B, C, and D.