Scrubs was good last night. It was called “My Perspective”, and far be it for me to worry about silly things like looking for big life messages in sitcoms, but it felt a smidge relevant to how I think and work.
JD (the excellent Zach Braff) is always, as is the motif of the show, in his own head, generally moping about. In the season so far, he’s been more self-pitying/mopey than usual, though things haven’t exactly been going well for him. Seeing the episode though (focussing on his need to get out of his head, and generally quit whining) helped to put a few things into, well, perspective.
Though I have made a conscious effort already to change my frame of mind from the past year, which has led nowhere productive, I can still do it more. I can step back and see myself putting myself into traps of worry and inaction, knowing better to avoid said traps. But thinking about perspective got me thinking about another side of how I think, and hoping I can figure out a way to work it out as well (though having the problem solved for me from outside would be nice too).
Basically, I find myself needing to toe a line between confidence and hubris, particularly as it relates to job hunting. I’m sort of wondering how others deal with this, or if it’s just me.
I’ve said a lot lately that I understand the awful, awful state of affairs in the job market. I know that it takes hundreds of resumes to get an interview, and plenty of interviews to get a job, so this interview this past Monday should merely be a blip in my mind, a positive step, but nothing at all to bank on. And I know that. I know that, I know that.
But part of me doesn’t see that.
Part of my brain is sitting there, telling the other parts that the rationalizing and equivocating that I’m doing on the subject is empty and useless, because of course I’m going to get the job, and all this worrying is going to be over soon, just you wait and see. Or worse, it disguises itself as the comforting, sensible part of my brain, it being the one trying to dull edges of rejection and soften the punches when they land, but there’s always this veil of insincerity over everything I think, like I’m only saying it so as not to jinx things, not because every other little part of me knows not to expect miracles. It says that the tempering of facts I’m doing is just to lessen a blow that isn’t going to come. That the nice HR/VP lady I interviewed with was just interviewing other people for show, that I blew her away and that the job couldn’t possibly go to anyone but me.
I hate this part of my brain. I want to carve it out and bronze it, mount it on a little plaque, just so I don’t have to hear its smug assuredness anymore. I like feeling confident, I need to feel confident, sometimes way more than I am, but this guy and this voice ringing in my ears is just counterproductive. Because I know that when I get that phone call saying thanks but no thanks, or worse, no call at all after weeks of waiting, he’ll be nowhere to be found, no support or comfort to be offered. The rest of my brain will then go into told-you-so mode, and the cycle can start all over again.
Where is that tiny sliver of a line between confidence and hubris? Pride and folly? How do you have a healthy dose of one but avoid the other?
(And don’t even think I don’t know what I’m doing with the language of this argument, all the compartmentalizing and abdicating of responsibility, like my brain is a separate entity from myself … believe me, I know.)