I just keep getting above myself

Cryptic words meander
Now there is a song beneath the song
One day you'll learn
You'll soon discern its true meaning
An interesting detachment
A listless poem of love sincere
Desire, despair
Overlapping melodies...
Oh now the roots are reminiscing
Recurring dreams of minor chords
Metred time
Muted chimes find the beat
And in the pulse there lies conviction
A steady push and pull routine
The cymbals swell
High notes flail into reach...
~Maria Taylor, Song Beneath the Song

Recently, I've been consumed by all the trappings, trials and tribulations of "the job search." I have spent a good amount of time going over my resume--attempting to define myself with each carefully choosen "action" word. I spend hours surfing through job listings, imagining myself in any number of new, exciting and not-so-exciting places. My days are filled with conversations concerning contract negotiations, benefit packages, good career moves, bad career moves, interview questions and tips on suit buying. I spent last Friday at a conference where I pretended to interview for two positions and received feedback on my performance. I will soon attend a large national conference where I hope to interview at a large number of schools at the same time as 1000 other candidates inone giant conference hall (it will be loud, distracting, and cause not just a few candidates some psychological harm).
This past weekend I was housesitting for a friend with an adorable dog and a gorgeous new addition. I relaxed into a world free of resumes and watched a number of movies I keep meaning to see (Note: I love Netflicks, but Direct TV provides so many more immediate options). I slept in one of the most comfortable beds of my life. I had a puppy companion who, I believe, would kill squirels and other small rodents if he thought my life was in danger, and I learned that I am allergic to cats. Or, at the very least those of the long hair uber-dandery persuassion.
While I've been catching up with my career and recent advances in entertainment (and making the occasional trip to the gym), I have not been dating or really paying much attention to my social life at all. Valentine's Day came and went; I hardly noticed. This is not out of the ordinary-- I started to ignore the holiday in high school and really don't feel the worse for not having any interest in it. And, recently (for the past 3-4 years with one or two exceptions) I generally choose to ignore that section of my life. I'm quite willing to admit that the prospect of putting time into a relationship feels like an overwhelming energy vortex that would be the proverbial straw that broke the proverbial camel's back. Having a dating record that reads like a "Who's Who of the Socially Inept" doesn't really help either. I am not, shall we say, encouraged.
And I've done enough soul searching to know that I have to own some of the failures... and that I too am somewhat inept -- anyone who knows me well knows that I can't talk to men I find attractive. While generally an intelligent, erudite woman, I actually stop making sense at all. Actual conversations (my half): "Going are you to the meeting? The one at the high school? Are you going?" "Really like the book... I really like it. The book, I mean." "Girlfriend? You have one? No?" I am Yoda, and there is no known cure-- but my own social specialness aside, I am generally content in my life. At least I like to say that I am. And I believe myself at least 87% of the time (it can't be good if I'm giving myself a "B" in fooling myself, right?).
Which brings me to the real meat of this rather long-winded and winding post. Creating resumes and going over interview questions forces you to take a good long look at yourself: Why are you the best candidate for the job/relationship? What do you look for in a supervisor/date? Where do you see yourself in 5-10 years? How will this job/relationship get you there? Are you limiting your search too much? Is your search too wide? Is most of your experience in the classroom, or do you have some field work under your belt? What size institution would you like to work at? What would your staff/friends/former relationships say about you?
It turns out, Grey's Anatomy does the same thing.
I've looked over the responses of my friends to this week's episode and find that I am not "a George," "a Meredith" or "an Addison." I am an Izzie. Nude photos and babies aside: I bake when I'm nervous. I clean house when I'm annoyed. I believe that we are born into one family and create another. I sometimes do things because "that's what Jesus would freakin' do!" or at least because I know it's the right thing even though I don't want/like it. I live in fear that I am not a doer (it is perhaps my second biggest fear, right behind not living an exceptional life). I see the best in people/situations. I have to learn some lessons the hard way.
I find Dr. McAsshole very attractive.
I know I deserve better.
And so, I sat in shock as Meredith removed George's shirt. At first, I was disappointed that Izzie was advising George to follow down a path that can only lead to Meredith breaking him. And I was a bit peeved that she was so focused on fulfilling her own needs that she couldn't see the trainwreck ahead (Ding! Ding! Ding! Epiphany ahead! Life-long lesson to be learned at next station!).
But it's really okay. It wasn't her job to stop George. We all make our own decisionsn and have to live with the consequences. George needs to learn that. Izzie needs to take care of herself. I need to learn to do that too.
One final lesson: although "the beast" may sleep, that should never be confused for contentment.