I think I'll like this design better.  Let's give it a week and see how it sits.  Only recently have I felt the freedom to allow my online life to re-coalesce.  The incarnations of my journals, my Yahoo! identity, all of it.  No more entries are buried behind blind electronic alleyways. 
    It's all connected, everything.  But you knew that already.  You've been hearing that for a few years, maybe even a few decades, now.  Everything you do affects something else, which affects something else.  Sometimes the process is unfair, as when somebody you love is hurt by someone else, and so they withdraw, even from you, who did nothing wrong.
    The whole time I've been looking for work, I've been trying to make the most of my connections.  I've called a lot of people I used to do business with, as well as friends and acquaintances from my social life.  I've sought introductions to their friends and associates to deepen the pattern, because the more people who have their eyes open for you, the more likely you are to find what you want.  Did you know that only 20-30% of all hires happen as a result of announced openings, like newspaper ads and online listings?  The other 70-80% are filled by referrals or by the hiring authority having somebody in mind before the job is even created, and that is why milking your network is vital in a job hunt.
    Did you know that the first time I got pregnant, I was on birth control pills?  This method is 99% effective.  Of 100 women using them, one is bound to get pregnant.  Heh, so I got to be the one.  If I can be a 1%, I can easily be a 20-30%.
    The job I want was an announced opening.  This is a damned good job.  It's like somebody saw what I can do and what I needed, took the measure of all my curves and grooves, and sculpted out a shape to match, a place for me to do good and contribute and make something big happen.
    I think it is gonna happen, but it ain't over until you sign the W-4.  I'm afraid to hope, because I have snatched defeat from the jaws of victory before.  It's not that I doubt myself or my abilities or potential; I do not, in the least.  It's that I have learned not to hope.  Hope not only kills, it maims.  Hope is a necessary part of life, but like Jim Beam or Boston creme donuts, excess can cause you grief later, possibly lots of grief.  There are a hundred flaky weird-ass things that can happen in between me and that W-4 that have nothing to do with my abilities.
    There's more stuff on my mind in the spirit of connection, but it's late and the thoughts are beginning to blur and scatter.  Plus, there is an expensive cigar over there in the box, calling my name.