I got a few guestbook comments about the entry about my dad. I was trying to see it that way, to appreciate the good rather than dwelling on the bad. On the rest of the trip, I tried to avoid criticism and not respond to his negative comments. It worked, mostly.

I think Bobby was right -- my annoyance might be unwillingness to accept my changing perception of my parents, and their changes as they grow older. They are no longer infallible fountains of knowledge, the "cool parents" who let me do whatever I wanted in high school. I'm not used to treating them like my frail grandparents, and it bothers me when they don't understand my views or can't (physically) keep up with me or when my dad can't hear me in a noisy room. When did I become a better driver than him, able to drive along mountain roads safely but much faster than him? Is it because I live in the West and have more practice with hilly, twisty roads?

At any rate, I feel bad about the trip. I still treat my parents the way I did in high school, but Donna treats her parents like honored guests -- a little more distanced, more respectful. I feel like I should follow her lead, but it's hard for me to let go of the kind of parent-child relationship we've always had. Like it would make them different people.

The rest of the trip was good -- we spent a day at Yellowstone, which was amazing. I had no idea before I went there how incredible the geysers were. The third night we spent in Bliss, Idaho, and the fourth day we drove across Oregon on US Highway 26.

I love the 26; it's become an obsession of mine. I realized that an unconscious reason for wanting my father to come on this trip was for him to see the amazing Northwest landscapes along the 26. I've been trying to convince my parents to move here ever since I moved here, but they're so set in their ways. I'm hoping that after they retire (still 10 or 20 years away) they'll give in. And I thought if my dad saw my favorite road across Oregon, it might help a little. He spoke glowingly of it on the phone to my mother, so maybe it worked.

So, I wrote two weeks ago about the job interview I had, where they offered me a manager position at a new coffeeshop. I've been thinking about it this whole time, and I've become more and more nervous. I think I won't do it. It seems too likely to be really stressful, there's the possibility that the place won't make it, and I don't feel confident enough to be a manager. Mainly, I don't want to be a career coffeeshop worker -- I want to have time and energy to devote to going back to school -- applying, getting financial aid, whatever else is necessary.

But I'm sick of applying at these pretentious coffeeshops and restaurants, having 45 minute interviews that go very well, and never getting hired. At one of them, the guy even said my resume stood out above all the others, and we had a great conversation. I called him back a few days later but he hadn't decided yet. That was two weeks ago -- apparently he didn't want me, and didn't even bother calling to tell me.

I know if I had a stable job, the rest of my life would be so much easier. When I'm paralyzed with anxiety, if I examine it, I realize that even if it appears to be about something else, it's rooted in my lack of job security. Not just because I'm broke (I have $10 at the moment) but because I have no stability, no comforting routine. Everything is always uncertain.

I feel like I should accept defeat and get a job at Starbucks -- my nemesis for most of my adult life. I don't drink their coffee (unless I'm in some out-of-the-way place where the only decent coffee is at a Starbucks) and I'm opposed to the whole idea of working for a giant corporation, especially one that keeps buying my favorite coffeeshops or putting independents out of business.

But one of my formerly heroin addicted friends in Chicago, Kitty, got a job there after she got clean, and she only had positive things to say about it. She even got insurance and had all her teeth fixed (drugs can do that). I saw her last week -- she quit Starbucks and went back to being a dominatrix, but she's still clean. Kitty is one of my favorite people, ever. If she is ok with Starbucks, can't I be ok with it? I go there to buy my Sunday paper (it's four blocks from my house), and today, as if a message from the universe, they had a sign about a "hiring event" this week. I know they'd hire me; it's just a matter of giving in.

My other options are to pursue the manager thing, or to continue the extremely stressful and seemingly endless search for those elusive jobs at stylish cafes where everyone is an artist and has cool hair.

My life plan is to apply to the U of O and start next semester, so it would only be for half a year. Does it really matter where I work, as long as I have a steady income? My anxiety level about money is so high I'm starting to think the answer is no. But every time I imagine having to call out "caramel frappacino blended coffee", I have this visceral reaction of disgust. I'm not anti-snobby-coffee, I'm pro-snobby-coffee, but Starbucks is like the McDonalds of snobby coffee.

So, dear readers, tell me what you think, please. You know me as well as anyone. Doesn't the manager thing sound like something I would not be good at? Or should I try it? Should I keep looking until I find something that makes me happy, or go with Starbucks and use that time to concentrate on stuff that matters, like applying to colleges and regaining mental stability?