The Complicated Life.

Christmas was okay. Where I expected it to be lonely and sad it wasn't. Where I expected to be fun and exciting it wasn't. But there was a fine balance between expectations and reality that didn't make Christmas a total bust.



My aunt celebrates Christmas very differently then I do. I don't need a shitload of present, I don't need a perfectly trimmed tree. I just need the excitement of the day. That 'oh so' magic of Christmas miracles, Santa Claus and spending invaluable time with your family. At my house, my mom and I buy each other presents and then spend the rest of the day watching corny Christmas movies and eating dinner. It was a little different here, despite having a three year old in the house there wasn't that same excitement that I was use to.



Michelle seemed confused about the day, Christopher was grouchy and in a funk, and my aunt had to work. I was excited to wake Michelle up and tell her that Santa came and dropped off some presents....but she was unimpressed. She opened some presents, seemed a little excited and then preceded to cry when I opened the big present my mom sent me (can we say ROCK BAND!!!!!).



"Where's my big present"

"I don't know. But my mom sent me this"



She made a face, grabbed her blanket and stomped into another room. Merry Christmas to you too. The night before my older cousin remarked that I "was really into this holiday stuff" this was soon followed by "we don't really do crap like this". My heart kind of sank but I promised my mom that I would not sulk on Christmas. And as a present to her...I didn't. I spent the majority of the day in 'my' room playing rock band, talking to my mom, texting people, eating and reading. It was a different sort of Christmas but I did the best that I could in the situation.



The next day I had to work from 8-4. I don't know how I dragged myself out of bed, but I made it and dreaded running into 'Porter' all day . As I mentioned I totally cancelled on him on Christmas Eve. The reason for the cancellation was both personal and physical. I didn't really want to go, and I really couldn't leave my cousin on his birthday. In one my first adult acts I actually called him up and cancelled instead of letting my phone ring until he got the point.



It was around 11am when I called him. He answered the phone after a couple of rings and I actually wasn't sure it was him. at first He sounded different on the phone, I liked the tone of his voice (kind of deep and polite as if I had just woken up)and I kept repeating his name to make sure it was him. I explained the situation and he said it was okay. He sounded disappointed but I promised that we would see a movie another time...when no ones birthday intercepted.



Of course, the next day at work 'Porter' showed up a little early. Just to hang around I guess. While I was at customer service he came up to me and handed me this rock. Or what I at the time thought was a rock. It was the size of a golf ball and a cool shade of purple.



"it's an amethyst" he said, as I twirled it in my hand, "do you like it?"

I did like it. In some weird way. The color was not vibrant but when I twirled it in my hand the different shade of purples sort of sparkled. The shape of the amethyst made it smooth and I kept tossing it between my hands as if it were on of those meditative stress balls. Before I could hand it back to him he walked away. I shrugged my shoulders and turned to Sam (a hot seasonal worker) and showed him the amethyst. He too said it was pretty cool and then handed it back to me.



When 'Porter' came around again I made an attempt to give it back to him but he told me it was mine, that he wanted me to have it.



SHIT. SHIT. SHIT.



Maybe all platonic friends give each other gifts for no reason. Right? If only I were that naive. I don't understand why he likes me. All of our conversation are surface level, I am nice to everyone, and I have horrible eye contact. Horrible. I am afraid that he likes me simply because I look cute and gullible. That there is an innocence about me that oozes inexperience and precociousness. I hear that I am cute often by weird older men who like to touch my shoulder. It's nothing new. And that's why when someone pulls out the "you are very cute" card I automatically believe that they will never take me seriously. That they like me because they want to be my knight in shinning armor. When in all honesty I don't particularly want that.

I mean eventually...yeah, in that supportive- I can rely on him, he is really patient with me-sort of way but not in that macho sense. I want someone who knows I can fight my battles but will help me conquer some on the way. Yeah. That's what i want.

Needless to say, I think he is like with the idea of me rather than the reality of me (that sounds familiar). I am simple but so much more complicated than my wide eyes give off. We are suppose to see a movie after work on Wednesday and I don't think I can take any proclamations of love from him. I realize that what i want from a guy is unrelenting patience. So when I come up with a crazy idea (like moving to Maine based on a GQ spread) he'll let me ramble on about it until something else comes my way. I need him to be the anchor not the ship.

You know, having anxiety was a lot easier. I didn't have to worry friends, boys and life. I got to crawl into myself and remain safe from all the expectations of people. Though i have no interest in him in a 'i want to kiss your mouth' sort of way, i still don't want to disappoint him. Let me straighten out this statement. This does not mean I would put myself in a situation where he (or anyone) could take advantage of me because I was filled with too much guilt in saying no. That is NOT the case. But for some reason I know that the person he has imagined me to be isn't the person I am, and it is going to be crappy when he figures that out. I will feel guilty regardless.

I want to see if I can get someone else to go with us. Then it wouldn't fee like a date and I wouldn't have to keep a watch out for my nape. What a lovely nape it is turning out to be.

I have to get out of this town, before it completely takes over.

Thank God I Forgot Your Birthday.

So today i was suppose to go on my "is it or isn't it" date with the janitor/nape toucher. I didn't really want to go. After weighing the pros and cons of this 'date', something about it just didn't feel right. I am known for my exaggeration. It is a characteristic of mine that I like (for story telling) and don't like (for life telling), but I have learned to live with both. I could be exaggerating his interest in me. Maybe he just wants to be friends, maybe he touches all his friends on the nape, maybe maybe maybe. But i know in all of my craziness that he likes me. I just have a feeling.

He's nice. He's tall. He's okay, I guess. But he's also 27-ish, working as a porter at a book store. He likes guns and science fiction, touches napes and said he has a fondness for 'small things'. Unlike my instant attraction towards my much older and totally inappropriate crush, there is no draw to this guy. I talk to him at work, I go home and pretty much spend my time thinking about hot older teacher. I am drawn to the same type of guys and for some reason unless you have some of those characteristics...I don't know.

I went to lunch last week with the new girl at work. Her name is Angie and she is from Kentucky. For some reason I automatically liked her. I think we connected instantly because we are both from small towns. She is 27 and recently was laid off from her job because of the recession. I was the one who trained her on her first day, and we ended walking home together that night (because she lives close to my aunts old apartment) and we had a pretty good conversation that ended in a hug.

So on the night of that huge snow storm the bookstore closed four hours early. 'Porter' asked me to go to the movies after work with him but i declined because Angie and I wanted to grab something to eat. The only place open was this diner down the street and we spent an hour there doing what i think people do. We gossiped, talked, complained, and ate gross food. We got on the conversation of attraction and she said she learned in psych class that people do form archetypes of attraction. This would explain why people tend to fall in like with people with similar traits. All the guys I have liked share something similar in both physical apparences and manner. I end up likely a guy immediately based off of his vibe and features. Hence why i fell in 'like' with Much Older Guy the moment he shortened my name and taught me the rules of the bookstore. I just liked him right off the back. And even though I know nothing can ever come from this crush he continues to supply material for my writing.

I like guys who inspire me. Who make me dream, who let me float and drift away while maintaining some hold on me. And 'Porter', despite all of his nice qualities, doesn't make my stomach do flips. I do not dream of him in any sense, I have not imagined some ill-fated future, or tryst that will go horribly wrong. I just see him, and am uninspired by the prospects. Nevertheless, I was going to go to the movies with him...because it would be my first real date. I guess.

I have not been in the best of moods lately. I am grouchy and sad combined with general frustration and angst. But I made a promise to my mom that I would try to enjoy Christmas. That i would make an attempt to have fun, even if it killed me. I woke up today in a better mood. I walked to Target and grabbed the supplies needed to make Santa's Christmas cookies and then surprised my baby cousin with plans to make cupcakes and cookies today before my movie date. I noticed, during my speech to Michelle about saying some cookies and cupcakes for sanata, that my older cousin was noticeably down and out.

I saw him going through some of the gifts in the closest and when I asked him what he was doing he said "trying to figure out which gift to open. Today is my Birthday."

WHAT!?!?!??!?!

In my general grouchiness followed by the big move, decision making, and being annoyed with life, boys, and everything else, it totally slipped my mind that it is Christopher's birthday. I just totally forgot. I must have made a face when he said it was his birthday because all of a sudden he looked like Molly Ringwald from Sixteen Candles, 'you forgot didn't you'.

I laughed the comment off and said something like "no.... of.... course..... not!" as I tried to figure out how i was going to make this up to him. I gave him the two presents I bought him for Christmas and let him open then. I then made cupcakes, made him some pizza and tried to remind him that I did not forget his birthday...though i did. Luckily this gave me a valid excuse to cancel all of my plans for the day (including the semi date with 'Porter'). I could not leave my cousin on his 18th birthday to lounge around knowing that everyone forgot his day. I mean we didn't do much, we talked, ate, and then respectively read our books, but i was here that's good enough and as soon as my aunt comes home we will put up the tree, make cookies and possibly watch A Christmas Story.

I don't know how long I can keep coming up with these excuses. After a while he is going to catch on that I have no interest in him, but I don't want to hurt his feelings. The adult thing to do would be to create the friendship boundary now so he doesn't misinterpret my kindness. But at the same time I don't want to think I am rejecting him when really i have established him as a friend of sort.

Too much thinking for one day.

In other news I have my Christmas all planned out. I will open the last of my presents, enjoy the look on my little cousins face as she opens her presents. I will hang with my aunt and older cousin and then retreat to 'my' room and read the trashy book I bought for the occasion while munching on the cheesecake I have been saving. It's going to be a different Christmas for sure but I am going to make the best of it. I am not this person frolicking around, I am not this person who is unhappy and concerned. And for day i just want to relax from all of that. Just for one day.

Merry Christmas, Happy Holiday and yadda yadda.

Momma I'm Coming Home

Sorry. I didn't leave you high and dry but I unexpectedly spent the last 3 days moving my aunt, her crying baby and her lazy son into their new apartment.

I don't know if I have talked about this, but my aunt began an apartment search about 2 months ago. After seeing some shittastic places thanks to a all to eager realtor (thanks Bob) she settled on a place in the same town not too far from my job and general activity.

Unfortunately I am beginning to think that I live in a house with fools. My aunt is not your ideal tenant. According to Ms. Drake (the 70 year old landlord who has no family or friends) my aunt never paid the rent on time or in full.

My aunt suffers from grandiose ideas of a life of luxury despite lacking the funds to do so. Because of this she would rather spend money on a $300 table than to put some damn food in the house.

She found out she got this apartment about 2 weeks ago, and Ms.Drake was none to thrilled. She pretty much demanded that my 'no paying rent on time aunt' move out of the apartment as soon as she could. For weeks she has told everyone a different story about when she was planning to move. From Dec 1st(the date she told Ms. Drake) to Jan 1st (the date she told me). Regardless when Dec 15th rolled around and my aunt was still lounging in the old apartment as if we had a bunch of time to move, Ms. Drake became frustrated on Friday demanded that my aunt move out by the weekend or else.

I did not know of this. I heard about it when my aunt and cousin were talking in private, and I was secretly listening. Anyway, I woke up on Saturday with the blind notion that I would sleep in late, move some shit to the new place and possibly take my other cousin to her dance recital. But of course, I woke up to a freak snow storm that made the roads icy and the temperature near freezing.

My aunt and older cousin do not have a license or money so I had to rent a U-Haul truck, navigate the icy roads and haul a shit load of furniture across town...all day. I have been recovering from this move the last 3 days, and i think in some way my spirits have dropped and I kind of, want to, need to, have made plans....to go home.

I am wasting all my money on supporting this house. There is never food in the fridge, there is never basic necessities to live off, and I realize I am buying all this shit only to see it disappear in three days. I buy food, the food is eaten up by everyone except me and then there is no 'thank you" to accompany this. There is no thank you for anything i do. I am stressed out, which is causing me to lose a lot of weight and I think my hair is falling out.

If my home life was stable I could take the whole looking for a job and internship thing in stride, but i go out into the real world and it is stressful there and then I come back here and it is stressful at 'home'. Plus I don't have any money, i am running out of money because so much of it is going into things that should already be in this house. I know that I am not paying rent here, but at the same time I am far exceeding a helping hand to this household, and I am being milked dry.

I don't want to leave NYC, but at this point for my money, my sanity, and weight...I have to.

Is it? Or isn't It?

After several attempts to hang out with me outside of work I agreed to see a movie with the weird janitor dude. Maybe it's because I am really lonely? Maybe it's because I've been so disappointed with the job search? Maybe i am just being a 22 year old girl who likes and wants some kind of affection? But i agreed to see a movie with him on Christmas Eve.

This is not a date right? I have no interest in this dude outside of being friends. But he has asked me so many times, that I am running out of excuses. So I am seeing a movie with a guy. A guy that may or may like me more than a friend. A guy

Shit. What have I gotten myself into. Can I back out now with some stupid excuse? Shit. I am freaking out.

New York does not have Moves.

I want to tell you all about my interview yesterday. But I am realize that the time it will take me to type this post (20-30 minutes) will take longer than the actual interview itself (which lasted 5 minutes). I fucking hate this city.

So, last Thursday I received an email from the editor of New York Moves magazine. I was hella excited after checking out the website and seriously began doing my research on magazine publishing. I bought some books, checked out the website a million times, prepared for the questions I knew where going to come my way, and felt secure in my strategies, drive, and ambition to get this internship.

After spending more money on a new pair of dress pants, I paid $13 for a round trip ticked to Grand Central Station, an extra four dollars for a metro card until I made it to the area know as Tribeca an hour early for my afternoon interview. I found the office pretty easily, so I looked around the neighborhood for a few minutes before deciding to wait in the lobby until my interview with the editor.

Unfortunately there wasn't really a lobby for me to lounge in. It was a huge flat sectioned off by partitioned walls. I was admittedly greeted by her assistant who handed me a copy of there magazine and told me to take a seat. I quickly changed out of my flats, college sweatshirt and jacket into my proper interview wear (that i kept on underneath all my other clothes. It was cold outside).

I didn't even get the chance to look through the magazine as I listened to the commotion over one of the walls

"did you get Selma Blaires publicist on the phone!", Someone asked

A small conversation began about getting the publicist on the phone as fast as they could and then all of a sudden a door swung open and a not so pleasant face greeted me. There was nothing pleasant about the next five minutes. I was carted off in a discreet corner where the editor (whose face I had seen in several of there promotional videos) was not as friendly as I thought she would be.

She shot me questions that she didn't give me much time to answer (because she was kind of answering them for me) "How's it going?Great. So did you get a chance to look through the magazine. Alright so where is your resume. Did you bring any writing samples. We are looking for experience candidates. Can you tell me something about yourself".

What a bitch.

I told her what I have been telling everyone at these interviews (but i included some fresh and relevant material for the job in particular). She asked if I had anything published and I of course told her the truth. Nothing published has come from these hands.

Bitch went crazy at this point. She sat back in her chair (not a good sign), made a face of disinterest (not a good sign) and then gave me a speech that went something like this:

We are looking for candidates who have certain experiences for our magazine. We need someone who we don't have to train and supervise because of inexperience. It's a two way streak, we offer candidates the opportunity to intern here but they have to contribute something also. We want to help someone further their career, and depending on how the next 25 interviews go I will make a decision to bring 4 back to get acquainted with the office. From there i will choose only two to come back.

She said this as if I wasted her time. As if she would never recover from the last 5 minutes she spent talking to me. I curved my mouth into an 'O' formation and said "I see"before parting ways. She led me out into the lobby where her next victim awaited her (i saw this girl a few minutes later with the same look of shock and disgust on her face).

That interview could have been done on the phone, instead of dragging 25 people to an office for a 5 minutes meeting. I am more mad about the amount of shit I did to have this interview (switch hours at work, money spent of travel and apparel, general excitement) then on how rude she was.

I have more incentive to 'make it', so I can shove it in all of these people's faces. I'm sorry that's

the anger and frustration talking.

After the interview I had to go to work until closing. Unfortunately some big hot shot person is coming in today, so we spent the whole night cleaning the store and I didn't get home until midnight. The Old Guy (teacher/ex-crush) was there but I was too frustrated to care. Some days he is nice, some days (like last night) he is cold and distant and I have learned to not take it to heart. Last week he got engaged (yeah for crushes) and his uber nice girlfriend came to the store to show of the ring. The Old Guy looked uncomfortable.

I've been writing a lot of poetry lately, because stories are too long and difficult. The Old Guy is giving me a lot of material and I think in some way I am using him as my muse. My much older, totally inappropriate muse but whatever.

The holidays is coming up, and my mom has asked me to put a hold on obsessing over this internship thing. She wants me to just take some time to write, and enjoy the presents she sent me for Christmas. She has a point, I will start studying for the GRE, write some stories and just relax for a while. But once January comes I begin again. I just need someone to take a chance on me.

You Found Me

I have been obsessing over this song by the Fray all day that I (along with the rest of the world) discovered through the promos for Lost Season 5(?). I've never seen this show. I hear it's about a bunch of people on an island, one of whom happens to be Matthew Fox. But other then that I am pretty clueless to the phenom, blame it on my obsession with a million and one other things.

Regardless, this song kicks ass. Major ass and I can't stop listening to it, even at 11:24p.m. I can't go to sleep. I have an interview this Wednesday and i am nervous. I am that kind of nervous that keeps you up at night tossing and turning. That kind of nervous that makes you listen to a song 20 times until you have the lyrics down to a science.

The publisher wants a portfolio of my work. My non existent portfolio that consist of a reader response for some stupid YA book, and a movie review that i typed up in a day. A portfolio that will not give anyone a sense of my writing. A portfolio that I am struggling to put together before Wednesday.

A kid at work is also trying to get into publishing. He has been trying for a year now. Because the interview conflicted with my work schedule I had to find someone to swap shifts with me. The weird Norman Bates guy was the only one I could ask, and when i explained my situation he was happy to accommodate. An hour later, he asked me all about the internship and then told me that he too had an interest in publishing. That he was a communications major in college (which is weird because he is the last person anyone wants to communicate with) but that he was rejected so many times he just sort of gave up. Seriously, he said he just 'gave up'.

This frightens me, because I know the only person who stands in my way of accomplishing anything is me. I am the only person responsible for not pushing my potential to it's fullest. And as I research the magazine, prepare answers to questions in my head, and struggle to come up with something more to put in my portfolio, the realization is crushing.

Failure has nothing to do with rejection from others, but from your own rejection. From your inability to keep fighting for something that you want, right? I don't want to be creepy Norman Bates guy. I don't want to just give up and be content with plan Z. I have to find some way to push past my own insecurites and nerves.

I am writing a small sample about the post grad experience. I know there will be an honesty in the piece that is speaking from a sincere contemplation on the subject matter and not eager desperation. I have thought of tweaking some entries from my journal because it's the best sample of my writing style for the porfolio but I don't know. I need to get some sleep and maybe in the morning I will figure out where this piece is going, until then...I have a restless night ahead of me.

What to Do? What to Do?

I'm feeling a little lost, confused, overwhelmed, sad and anxious. I can't even begin to explain how horrible post grad life is. I know that I had high expectations going into this move to NYC but as the four month mark stamps it's marker on my life, I can't help but feel like a failure. I can't even get a damn internship...with anyone.

I contemplate going home all the time, until I realize that there is nothing there except a potential job at Walgreens or Kmart. It's not that I am even stressed out, i am just depleted of energy. I am tired of trying to be 'someone', I'm tired of trying to convince people that I am right for the position especially when I am not 100% convinced of it either. I'm lucky enough to even snag an interview which says that something in my resume is catchy. But I can't 'seal the deal' in a sense. And it is beginning to take it's toll.

Yesterday, I started crying for no reason at all. I was watching the last ten minutes of Atonement where the adult Briony is talking about her new book. This is of course the scene where she confesses that she created a life for her sister and her sisters lover in her book that they were unable to have in their real life, due to events from their past. Naturally this scene is pretty sad, she is atoning for her mistakes and does so through creating a happy ending for two people who never got that chance to experience it. I have seen this movie a dozen times, I knew the ending even before I watched it and yet there I was crying for no reason at all. It had nothing to do with the movie, I emotionally was just using it as an excuse to vent my own frustrations. At the end of my weird crying spell I yelled "Fuck you Briony" before turning the channel. My anger at her made me laugh some time later.

I am running out of plans. I intended to land an editorial assistant job. That did not work so I intended to get an internship. That is not working, so what else I am suppose to do? I contacted some lady about volunteering abroad but apparently there is a fee of $3000. Who would have thought that volunteering would cost so much. Once again, because I am not in school (and because of the recession) I can't even get a loan to go. I have to start repaying my current loans in February so there is no way that i can just give $3000 of my own money for two weeks in Chile. It's impossible.

The only other plan that has run through my head is trying to get some newspaper experience. I have no formal training in journalism, but for years I've said I wanted to be Lisa Ling because of her wicked awesome job with National Geographic (even an internship at National Geographic requires you to be in college). Unlike publishing, i may actually get the chance to write something rather than reading someones crappy novel. I would have to work on my grammar and syntax, but there are a lot of small newspaper places in my town that i may have to look into.

Who knows. I can't give up now, right? But even my ability to come up with plans from A to Z are waning. I am tired of thinking about the future. I am tired of working at the bookstore. I am tired of weird guys who touch napes inappropriately. I am tired of stagnation and complacency because i am guilty of both.

And So it Goes

Dear Beckett,

Thanks so much for coming in to meet with Tricia. She wanted to let you know that she has decided to go with another candidate. Thank you again for your interest in Sanford Greenburger, and best of luck with your future endeavors.

Best,

Lauren

Like Cinderella, I Too Leave Glass Slippers at Balls.

Another interview down, another expectation ready to become a bust.



Have no fear I have not become a cynical, pessimistic person. But I have become a more realistic one. I picked the worst year to graduate from college. With a recession and print journalism folding under the weight of our Internet driven age trying to enter the publishing world is hard. Very hard.



I am learning that rejection is not some personal attack on my character but simply that the people hiring interns and entry level candidates want to make sure they have the absolute right person for the job. And maybe that person is not me. That realization is called becoming a mature adult.







I went into this interview without the high level of expectation that I have previously had. I don't know if this was to soften the blow of another potential rejection, or if my commitment to attending grad school in the fall has decreased my fighting drive to enter the publishing world. For now anyway.




I did buy a cute sweater to wear to the interview. It cost me a hefty 42 bucks, but for once i felt stylish and put together. I always debate whether wearing jeans to an interview is appropriate or not but because I have only been going on interviews for internships I don't see a problem with injecting my own style into business wear. So I paired my cute grey sweater cloak thingy with dark jeans and kitten heels. I felt like a girl.





I scheduled the interview for 11am but because I do not know my way around the city and I wanted to catch an early train just in case I got lost on the way. In the last 3 months I have mastered the subway line and easily caught the 4 rail to Union Square, a place where all the cool artsy kids hang out. While I was on the train to grand central station I saw this hot guy wearing a tweed jacket. I have a thing for tweed but more importantly I have a thing for dudes who wear tweed. He was about my age with red hair and soft features and he looked composed in the crowded and noisy rush of people.

Though we got to the track for the 4 train at different times, when the train rolled up we somehow managed to get on another train together where we were sandwiched together for a quick 5 minutes. If you are not able to get a seat on the subway you have to stand, along with a shitload of other people, in the aisle. At peak hours this could mean standing in between someones armpit and breast depending on how and where you are standing at any given moment. I, being unable to secure a spot in reaching distance of a bar to steady myself, had to stand in the middle of the train as the car rocked back and forth. The man of my dreams in tweed was standing right behind me, facing the doors, which did not give us anytime to talk and stare longingly at one another. Where it not for the girl in the red peacoat, who unfortunately got pushed and jabbed by my unsteady self, I would have been tossed around all over the place.

Because the train was headed to Union Square there were a bunch of college kids in the car and when we finally reached 14th street, we emptied out in no particular order or manner. Union Square was pretty nice, ironically The New School (the grad school I was rejected from) is right around the corner, and for a moment I saw how my life would have turned out if I would have been accepted there. Like most places in New York, you can get overwhelmed by the buildings, people, and general activity. For some reason I am not too distracted by the sights as I am the smells of New York. There is food everywhere, and I wanted to continue breathing in the scent of coffee and burritos.

When I made it to the office I did not make the mistake of pissing off the building guard this time, and made my way to the literary agents office without harm. Of course I was an hour early,and the receptionist made a point of telling me this. She 'informed' me that just because I was early didn't mean I would get to have my interview early. I then had to 'inform' her that I was early for everything and that i didn't mind waiting. I had intended to come in early so I could freshen up in the bathroom (check my chair, face, and zipper) and change my shoes. I am petite and often times am mistaken for a teenager so I always wear heels on my interviews. But I did not want to wear heels on the train, so I put them in my big bag intending to change into them later on. Unfortunately I did not expect to encounter a rude receptionist and I was too frightened to ask her where the bathroom was.

Instead I changed my shoes in the waiting area, and doodled in my notebook until the agent greeted me. She actually interviewed me earlier then planed (take that receptionist lady) and per usual the interview went okay. I was asked the same old questions and could not help but follow them up with the same old responses. She said I was 'great' but that of course she had a hard decision to make and would get back to me soon about the position.

And so it goes.

When I reached the lobby, I started searching my bag for my grey shoes. I admittedly found one but could not for the life of me find the other one. Yes, my bag is really huge, but after dumping everything out I did not see my other shoe. I quickly realized that I must have left it in the agency, perhaps while i was changing shoes I left it under a chair. The guard did not let me slip by easily this time, and I had to explain to him that I was missing a grey shoe and that i left it on the 15th floor. When I stepped off the elevator, the receptionist was waiting for me with a humorous grin on her face.

"Did you see a grey shoe laying around anywhere", I asked.

She continued smiling and pointed to my grey shoe lying under chair, it look all lost and lonely without it's other half. I retrieved my shoe thankful that the agent was not there to see me running around the agency with one shoe on and then got in the elevator with a guy who wanted to know how I could leave my shoe in the waiting room. He was smiling (and laughing) as he asked me, and I could only explain that 'he'd have to know me to realize this was not unusual'.

All in all it was a good day. I don't have a chance in hell of getting this internship but I love traveling to the city as much as possible. I have contacted some volunteer agencies in order to learn more about volunteering outside of the country. I have decided that going to a school in another country will be both costly and impractical. Sometimes I need to throw ideas out there just to see it and analyze it. But there are a crap load ( I use this phrase a lot, I apologize) of short volunteer programs that can expose me to travel via service. I have a couple of months to spare and I would really like to go to South America or Eastern Europe. I am captivated by Africa at the moment (from books on the region, National Geographic images, to songs) but I may have to hold off on that trip for a while. You know, because there are several civil wars going on and all.

I have to write about the weird janitor guy again. He touched my nape the other day in a way that was 100% creepy and not at all cool. After the 'incident' I ran home and wrote down the beginning of a poem I think:

He addressed my nape with a familiarity reserved only for men

It sums up nicely the weird way his hand found their way to my neck. But, because I am sleepy I will have to write that story up later.

Today is the Day.

Marie's birthday is today but unlike previous years she is not happy about this one. This is her first bday without the comfort of her friends and family. She is convinced that her existence in the hills of North Carolina (because that's where all the pig farms all) is not important. If she was to leave her job, apartment and life she feels that no one would miss her. I try to comfort her as much as I can, but as I deal with my own stuff listening to her has become harder and harder. I cannot relate, I mean I can't even pretend to relate.

She has a job, she has a boy who is interested in her, she has a job, she has a car and an apartment, and she has friends (friends who are far away but friends regardless). I have none of those things. I don't even think I am close to having any of those things. The only thing we share in common is a general concern for our own loneliness which has been caused because of the things we lack in our lives.

As I mentioned before I do have an interview on Tuesday. I am going to brave the frigid weather (again) take the metro north into the city (again) before catching the subway (again) to a literary agency that may or may not accept me as an intern (again). The only person I really complain to about my struggles in the city is my mom, and I must credit her for holding up nicely under the train wreck that is me. I am anxiety filled while drowning in my own unrealistic images of my life and self. I often reduce myself to being nothing more than a bookstore girl who will forever be in the aisles shelving literature that I am too lazy to write myself.

Complacency is a word that I hate only because it regularly plagues my thoughts. What happens if I get too tired of fighting for 'something' that I just settle for anything? These thoughts are weird and stupid I know, only because I am a person who never settles. But still the thought remains.

Yesterday began a month long employee appreciation stint at my job. We are given 40% off of books in preparation for the headache called Christmas. I have never worked retail but I know that it will be madness at my job for the next 3 weeks and I do not feel prepared. I bought two Joan Didion books and a Cd for my mom and started reading the rest of "slouching towards Bethlehem" when I got 'home'.

I carried on further reading at Michelle's dance class this morning while listening to some Sir Sufjan Stevens. There is something about Stevens + some Didion that gets me thinking. I contemplate the choices I have made in the past 3 months....okay lets be honest in the last 4 years. I am impulsive, impatient, and a worry body. I have no idea what I want to do, I desperately seek guidance, and did I mention I have no idea what i want to do.

As I was sitting in the lobby listening to a bunch of 3 year olds running around, I had this interesting revelation. Maybe I have been approaching New York the wrong way. Despite reminders that I am a person who is suppose to write I forget this often in the 'real world'. Without a comment on a paper I have written or guidance from my professors on the strength and weaknesses of my writing, I am not conscious of my potential to do...anything.

I have spent the last 3 months trying to get an editorial assistant job, an internship, or even a damn desk job, that I haven' done the one thing I know I can do. Write. I mean seriously write. I haven't joined a workshop, created experiences worth writing about, or committed myself to the craft. I've only ever been good at observing things, analyzing stuff, being incredibly receptive to my environment. If I was meant to write and experience things then why I am not doing any of that.

Despite feeling like i have put in 100% into making something of myself while I have been here, maybe that is not entirely the case. I have been contently pursuing publishing (to no avail) for so long that I have put writing to the side, literally. On interviews I can't mention my pursuit of an MA in Creative Writing. I do not say that I can honestly critique work because of my own interest in writing, I often end up giving safe answers because the truth would solidify something to my potential employee and possibly myself.

I do not agree with what the editor on my first interview said. This was the interview (that was exactly more of a luncheon) on the rooftop over looking the city I held so much promise for only a few short months ago. After she was done chastising me for not capitalizing my I's in an email I sent her ("it's something I pay attention too") she none too pleased of my writing pursuits. She suggested picking one over the other because there may not be a way to do both.

I call bullshit on this one.

There has to be a way to balance security (making money so i can live comfortably) with passion (writing, observing analyzing, experiencing). And if I have to create that balance then I will just have to in order to maintain some sense of myself and preserve my sanity.

I have (once again) a million and one thoughts floating around. If this whole grad school thing works in my favor i should be enrolled sometime in August. I am no longer looking to apply to school abroad just because I could never decide if I wanted to study abroad because of the programs or the sites. Until August I have a couple of months to do what i want to do should an internship not come.

I have been thinking about volunteer related programs for recent grads. Some range from a 2 week to 3 month commitment. The program would be abroad but seeing that I've only traveled domestically (and on the east coast) going anywhere (and volunteering) would be an adventure. I need to be challenged, I need opposition, I need purpose and without those things I feel...complacent, useless, and slightly depressed.

I need a goal to fight for. In school I was determined to graduate, so even though I hated sitting at a desk all day I didn't mind being there. I knew that there was a purpose for being there, that I would earn a BA and be one of the few college graduates in my family. I need a goal, a finishing post, a sign that I am accomplishing something towards some purpose that is significant.

Why must I be such a difficult and demanding person. Geez.

So, we meet again

Okay. I admit it. I am depressed.

I hate writing it down and seeing the word Depressed before me. I haven't felt this bad in so long I almost forgot what it felt like. I forgot that depression (for me anyway) is not some evil aberration that I can spot and halt in it's track. It's sneaky, friendly even, because it seeks out my weakness and offers me the helping hand I seek. Blerg.

I am literally in a weird state of nothingness. It feels and looks like nothing I ever would have imagined. I am an actor. I carry a million and one facades to cover up my anxiety ridden, worrisome self. And people are buying it, including myself.

Beneath my happy veneer I am consumed with anxiety. It is not a stomach churning, sweat dripping or even a heart pounding sort of anxiety, but it keeps me up at night. It fills my head with unrealistic scenarios that involve 'me' some years down the road unfulfilled in all aspects of my life including being totally unhappy with my career.

With the economy ("hello Mr. recession") and the general time it takes for a grad to find a job, I know this is the worst time to be looking for a job. Especially a job in publishing which is a tight knit family of literature buffs. But because I am naturally someone who puts a lot of blame on herself I can't help but feel like a failure. I can't help but feel unwanted, unprepared, and like a disgrace to the person who once held such high dreams for herself but who cannot find a way to make them happen.

I am just in a funk. I know it will pass and I will bounce back up like one of those stupid webble wobbles to face the 'real world' again. But sometimes I just want to fold into myself. I don't want to be a strong anchor, realistic and rational. I want to hit rock bottom, be totally vulnerable, and just let my thoughts do whatever it must to work itself out.

I have another interview on Tuesday (if me and the agent can find a time for the interview that fits both our schedule). I don't really know how to prepare myself. I am going to buy a new outfit, I know that much. I need something more professional looking then what I have been showing up in (a cardigan sweater and slacks). If it wasn't 30 degrees in New York I would wear something a-la Bonnie Morrison (who is pictured above). She is like my style icon these last few months but I don't think i can pull off her class and style).

In the meantime I am working 5 days straight this week. Because of the holidays the managers asked me to extend my four day commitment to five. I desperately want (and need) more money so I agreed to have a full shift for Christmas. After the holidays my hours will dramatically decrease regardless of snagging an internship or not. Surprisingly when i came back to work on Sunday, my old crush (literally he may be more then 10 years older than me) was super nice.

This is the same guy who made an ass of himself on Halloween. He is still dismissive towards, I don't think that will ever change. If he isn't ignoring me he is pretending to ignore me and I haven't been able to decide which one is worse yet. But on Sunday he was nice....I mean actually nice. It was the first time he has said anything to me since i started working there. I don't know why I like him, put aside the whole teacher thin and I just dig him. Put aside being an asshole towards me and I still like him. I like how he interacts with everyone else, despite being a turd towards me.

I want to get a real guy. I want someone to like me (who isn't a weird janitor dude who happens to have a pension for guns and short people. He told me this). I have to stop falling in 'like' with guys who are unattainable or dismissive of me. I have to start taking myself seriously enough to attain the things that I want. Whether it be a stupid internship with a stupid literary agency or just a nice guy to hang out with along with my nice friends and nice life.

Time for bed.

Rejection Burns deep

I didn't get the internship. Motherfucker, I don't know what i am doing wrong. Here's to another rejection letter added to the increasing pile:

Dec, 1st 2008:

Hi Beckett ,

Thank you very much for your interest in our internship. I’m afraid that we have gone another direction, but I wish you the very best in your pursuit of a career in publishing, and appreciate your time in talking with me.

Best regards,
Jaimee, the Literary Group

Nov, 2nd 2008

Thank you to all who applied at Show Business Weekly. I just wanted to let you know that the internships have been filled. Good luck

-Chris Show Business Weekly

I was going to list the rest of them, but i must have deleted the rejection letters from that weird social networking site (which was literally the weirdest rejection letter ever. Something about New Years Eve and bad timing) and Scholastic Books. I can't remember if there are anymore than four. Some rejections are solely based on me being a college graduate which makes no sense. There was this cool internship with Sprig.com, based on eco-friendly content (news, fashion, writing). Unfortunately they were looking for interns who are in college instead of those who have already graduated from it.

It's complete hogwash and bullshit.

Back to the Grind

So my week home was more then I ever could have imagined. Minus the absence of my two favorite family members ( I miss my cats) I had a great time. There is something about going home that is quite deceptive. After living without basic necessities and the comforts of heat, a bed and cable television being home was like staying at the Ritz-Carlton or something.

It was sunny throughout the week, I ate a lot, I played the Nintendo Wii for hours, and I got to hang out with my family. Everything in my small little town was exactly the same yet distinctively different. It is my home yet it isn't my home anymore. The shops are still confound to restaurants and speciality stores, except now there is a dunkin' donuts a few blocks away. The people are still homely and considerate while they hold doors for women and children and talk about impending weddings and births.

The whole time I was home, I regretted having to leave on Sunday. I kept making excuses to stay. I'm not finding anything in good old New York and it's been 3 months (bordering on four) and all I have to show for my move up here is a crappy bookstore job. I don't get much writing down (evident by my lack of blog posting and general lack of story writing or even the inspiration to write). I am not miserable but sometimes I feel tired. Tired of trying to 'be' somebody. I feel tired of having to prove myself. I don't feel like I am or will be taken seriously in this field even though I haven't really emerged myself in it fully.

I have anxiety about my future. I no longer believe that I will be a bookstore girl my whole entire life but there is still a fear that lingers somewhere deep inside that I can't verbalize. Marie calls me all the time to talk about her loneliness. She is not dealing with post college life well. Though she has a career that pays a generous salary she has made no friends (besides the boy she likes). It worries her, and it is the only thing she wants to talk about these days.

Maybe because I am slightly a loner and am use to my fair share of days alone, but I don't really know how to connect to her claim. When Abagail confided in me last week about her bouts of depression and her own lonely ways I could relate to her. She talked about the sort of lonely that is about wanting general connections to people other than for entertainment and something to do on a Saturday Night. It is loneliness that causes you to question your own self worth and importance to others and to yourself. Marie seems more upset that she can't go out eating or drinking because she has no one to hang out with.

At the end of the day I am not worried about the social aspects of my life. I am doing okay at least that is what I keep telling myself. Maybe I am not aware of any loneliness because I am so consumed with getting a new job, writing, or even just finding a damn internship. It is the career aspect of my life that is consuming me. I not only want to be more than a bookstore girl but I need to be something more and I don't know how to make the changes to do so.

When I was home, safe in my big bed where everything was exactly the same and comforting, I could feel it trying to lure me back. "It" being my indecisiveness, my worries, my apprehensions and concerns. "It"being the part of me that doesn't want to take chances and would rather settle for okay that spectacular. The part of me the believes my better best just isn't good enough and that my dreams are just that. All the components of "it" lit up my old life like it was amazing. It turned the boredom of small town living into an oasis from city life. "It" made the four blank walls of my bedroom into a creative outlet where I spent my mornings actually writing. "It" made me forget all of the things about small town living that i hate, creating this big facade that I a was caught up in. That I am still today caught up in.

Where it not for the responsibilities of my job, I don't think I would have come back. "It" has made me slightly delusional. Despite the endless opportunities here, I am in a weird breaking point that has more to do with being tired than anything else. I am hoping to hear about this new internship in the next few days. Because of the holiday week, she gave phone interview in anticipation for people traveling for the holidays. The interview went well. I know I have said that about every interview but this one went how I wanted it to go. I felt like I had a good answer for all the questions she posed and I got to ask some of my own. Her biggest concern revolved around me being a college graduate. She feared that I would find my entry level job during the internship and then they would be without an intern. It is a big concern but I explained to her that I can't really get a job without having an internship anyway, or at least that has been my experience these last few months.

I am scared to think that if nothing should come up soon 'It' will lure me back home, not because I want to go but because can't I bear staying. I have a lot to process.

My application for grad school isn't due until April 30th. Thank God. I have some time to come up with a great story and submit it to the admission committee. I have several stories in my head but I want to spend my time on just one instead of trying to complete three at the same time. I did visit my old and potential grad school last Monday. I finally got a college sweater and have been wearing it all week for comfort and warmth (It snowed a little yesterday!). I miss school a lot, I miss being in class, I miss harassing hot English professors, and I miss having potential. I especially miss the last one the most.

Tennis Prodigy?

I'm home for the holidays. I flew in on Sunday and have been spending my days with the new love of my life....THE WII.

I will surface once I have completed a very heated tennis match. Damn you Andy Roddick.

Oh, and I had a wicked awesome interview (via the phone) today with a literary agency. I sold myself pretty well to the editor (who seemed to like my spunk) and I should hear something back from her soon.

I promise a real post tomorrow.

I survived the opening night of Twilight...Unscathed though Deaf

So tonight I closed. Closing on a Friday always sucks. Closing on the day a popular teen book turned movie opens with hot actors and a campy plot...it almost calls for a disaster. The bookstore I work in is located in a mall-well sort of. We are located in a building that holds a popular retail shopping staple, a clothing store, and a movie theater. On any given day a crap load of people come in and out of this place especially on the weekends.



Today (Friday) was my last day at work for a whole week. I leave on my 1 week break Sunday and I won't return to the bookstore until that following Monday. Of course I was schedule to close my last day there and not only was our store open an extra hour but we had to face the endless amount of teenagers hanging out in the aisle until their movie (Twilight) started.



I complain about work a lot. In my head. Out loud. To my mom. On this blog. But I generally like the people that i work with. The ones who aren't way older than me are in college or have just graduated. Unlike my college days of feeling disconnected from people my age I am doing okay here in the social department. Everyone is really nice and I have heard that I am "an easy person to like". Why couldn't college have been like this.





Oddly enough we were an all girl staff tonight and we tried to make the best of it. As expected teenagers were all over the place. In the Judaic section, Children's Section, and of course at the Stephenie Meyer fixture. Every hour we would have a handful of people asking for the Twilight series and I had to prevent myself from yelling at them to read something else.





I think it's weird (from what I know of the books) that a book about an awkward beautiful outcast who falls in love with a vampire has attracted girls who admire Paris Hilton and wear boots with tights. If Belle is anything like what people are describing then shouldn't the slightly introverted, doe- eyed dark haired girl reading Austen be captivated by these books instead of the loud mouthed bleached and tanned ones. It's very perplexing and grating.



There was one girl (surrounding by mirror images of her) standing in the aisle squealing about the series. She was clutching a Twilight inspired journal and exclaimed that she just had to have it. I wanted to tell her that a journal is for writing shit in and unless she wanted to waste her money on a journal she would never use ,to put the merchandise down. But instead i gave her a wry smile and let my heart break a couple of aisles over.



Despite the madness, we closed at 11 followed by completing our nightly chores to a Prince mix some girl in the cafe brought us. At 12 we were done and we got to leave earlier than I have ever seen us leave on a Friday night. Most nights I call a cab to take me home. I don't live far,but at midnight when it is 23 degrees outside and the wind is smacking you in the face ,walking can be no fun. Especially with teenagers roaming all over the place. I was only a teenager a few years ago, but they scare the crap out of me. Especially teenage boys. The girls (not all of course) are superficial and text away on their cute phones, but the boys are still boys on the brink of sexuality.



In the Judaic section there was about 10 of them sitting in the aisle. I of course had to put a book there, and I chickened out once they turned their heads toward me. I went back to customer service where my new friend, and co-worker Abagail, was shifting through some books. She is a 26 year old PHD student who plays the cello. She is brilliant, quiet, sarcastic, and Canadian. She talks with a dry enthusiasm and sometimes (as i did in the beginning) she can be mistaken for a snob. In all actuality she is sort of sullen. I mean we get along well, I make her laugh, she makes me laugh, she has a cool interest in music (she brought in a wicked orchestral mix when we closed a couple of weeks ago). She loves Twilight and romance novels but she admits that they are campy and silly. I like working with her (and even hanging out with her) because she is an interesting person to be around despite her sullen qualities. I don't really know how to explain it.



Maybe sullen isn't the right word. But there are moments when I catch her looking broken. She is attractive and of course has that sarcastic thing written all over her face, but there is still a hint of sadness. Sometimes I want to ask her if something is wrong, but I am never sure if she usually carries that hint of gloom with her.


Anyway, when I got to customer service I told Abigail about the boys lounging in the Judaic section. She grabbed some books, marched down the aisle and told me she would take care of them. A moment later she came back, slightly defeated and perplexed.

"There are a lot of them!" she said, putting the books on the desk. After concluding that were were both chicken shit, we choose to tell the security guard that there were some boys hanging out in the section and if he could tell them to hang out somewhere else. It was a small triumph for two scared girls but we prevailed. We sort of giggled at the event, and then she offered to drive me home when I mentioned that I hated waiting for the cab.

She lives only a few blocks away and said it was no problem to take me home whenever I needed a ride. On the way to her car after the store closed she said she wanted to tell me something. There is a dude at our job who she has a crush on (and who wouldn't: he's the hottest red head I have ever seen). She said that they have been talking on and off for a while, hinting at the idea of hanging out outside of work. When she told me this I noticed that weird sullen thing again. In between her general excitement that he has taken an interest in her, she was sad and apprehensive about the whole thing.

She told me she was in no position to start a relationship with a boy, because her previous ones have been disastrous. "But he's nice and has a good face" she concluded as if those qualities alone made all the difference. I listened quietly, squealing when the moment was right and nodding my head when it was appropriate. Then out of the blue she tells me that she has and is suffering from bouts of depression. She hasn't been feeling well these last couple of weeks and even requested some days off to just deal with it. She said she was so sick of being sad that she wanted to deal with it head on and be done with it.

"it comes on and off you know and I just want to be able to function again like a real person". God. I wanted to cry. With the streets lights on there was a cadence of dark and light on her face as we walked down the street to her car. Her confession was so silent it almost didn't seem real. I thought maybe I had made the confession myself but I realized that i hadn't said anything in a while and the voice that made the confession was not my own. She told the manager that I hate about her recent depression, and said manager suggested she hang out with people at work. Abagail mentioned that she was interested in cute red-headed boy and now she wonders if the manager went to him and urged him to hang out with her.

"I don't want someone to hang out with me for pity" she said vehemently, as is she had experienced that pity before. I told her that i don't think he would do something like that but it can't help to ask should she be concerned about it. During the drive to my house we talked about loneliness, the job, and my shittastic interview on Monday. She invited me over (when I get back from vacation) to see her huge apartment. She told me to have a good time during the Holidays and I shot her back the same line. When she drove away, we waved to each other and there it was again, her smile that never really looks like a smile.

She is complicated, I know, but i really want to be her friend. There is something about her that reminds me of myself and need I say my own bouts with the big D. Sometimes if i look close enough I can see that she is hanging on by a string and I sort of want to be there for her, just so she knows that someone understands.

Though i haven't read Twilight I have heard that the main character is an annoying, male dependent, angst ridden teen tart. It's probably why I don't want to read the series. I like my characters to be strong, independent and fiery with a sadness that comes on and off from somewhere deep down inside of them. For some reason Abigail reminds me of those characters I use to write. Self Sufficient yet broken. I think that's why I like her so much and yet am so frightened for her.

I leave tomorrow for Thanksgiving Break. I am too excited to see my mom, brother, and to visit my school again. I am finally going to buy a college t-shirt, I actually miss the place enough to spend a crap load on college related merchandise.

Mix-Match

I want on an interview today for another internship. I know. I know. I have some explaining to do.

Last week I applied to an internship for a online networking site. No it wasn't facebook, myspace, or anything like that. It's another site that wants to achieve the same thing, except lacks the popularity of those other ones. Furthermore this site is tailored to those in the NYC area who have a pension for good times.

I knew, soon after applying, that this internship was not for me. I am not a dull, boring person...but I don't care about NY nightlife unless we are talking art shows, indie concerts and bistros. Regardless, I studied up on the website, got a sense of their 'objective' and tried to go in with a brave face.

I've been feeling crummy lately and surprisingly it has nothing to do with not having an internship. When I am sick, my whole body gives up on me and regardless of medicine and plenty of fluids, I am slow to recover from illnesses. I am use to TLC from my mom or at least the comfort of my dorm room to sooth my ailing self. But being miles away from home and needless to say getting NO TLC from my aunt, I was forced to recover on my own.

I am not fully recovered from this cold but I still wanted to make it to the interview. All weekend I was feeling a little...weird about the whole thing. I am interesting, and lively and fun...but not in that 'party hardy' sort of way. I recently checked out a book from the bookstore called "bohemian manifesto". By all accounts I am not a bohemian, or at least i don't think so. Regardless, sometimes I think I vacillate between bohemian and well the 'real world'. The book is not suppose to be serious. It is written by Laren Stover who was raised by a bohemian mother and her two bohemian dads. It is an observation of the culture through various understanding of the bohemian lifestyle. Plus there are pictures. Pictures!!!

Nevertheless there is a passage that pretty much states that bohemians go against the grain in every way possible. That [they] would rather be starving artist than apart of the "system'. That's sort of a stretch for me, I don't particularly mind the system but I don't want a crummy internship if that means I can write stuff. Let me explain.

So today i made my way to 23rd street via the 6 train for my interview. There are times I completely love this city. Maneuvering myself from grand central to the subway and finally through Park Ave made me feel alive and at peace. Sure I was stuck on a crowded subway in between a old lady and a tall man, and sure I got lost somewhere between 5th and 6th avenue but it was exhilarating. When I made my way to the office, I was so proud of myself. With only a map and my Chuck Taylor's I made it to the building unscathed.

I should have known things were not going to go well when I was cursed out by a very irate guard. Most buildings in the city have a guard sitting at a desk before you enter. When i came in, I saw that he was on the phone so i it took upon myself to read the directory on the wall to determine that i was in the right place. I went outside to call my mom, and then came back into the building and went directly upstairs. This did not seem like a problem to me.

When I got to the second floor 'said' security guard came upstairs a few minutes later (the 2nd floor has a bathroom). When he recognized my face he felt the need to scold me for entering the building without telling him where i was going. He was not pleased with me at all. While he was yelling at me, I was taking off my converse to put on my taller shoes. His accent was too thick for me to fully understand what he was saying, but i figured the finger being wagged in my face could only mean that he was pissed.

I sort of looked at him innocently with the shoes in my hand. After a small pout and a "i thought you were on the phone i didn't want to be rude" i apologized to the psycho guard. He seemed both satisfied and regretful about the exchange and went skating down the hallway in anger. Of course when he came back he said I could sit down on the floor if I wanted instead of awkwardly standing in the hallway. Maybe he felt guilty for overreacting.

Nevertheless at 1:50 I made my way down the hall towards the door on the left. As soon as I walked in I knew it wasn't the place for me. A bunch of preppy girls gave me the stank eye as i entered the spacious loft. All the heads turned at the girl (me) with the cardigan sweater and "organically grown" tote. I took a seat on a big couch in the corner of the room and waited for my interview. While I was waiting I managed to hear a certain conversation between Head Intern and her intern minions from the corner.

Because the site is trying to build a reputation for itself, they rely heavily on promotion. Promotion from themselves. They interns blog and write pieces in order to attract people to the site. The Head Intern was explaining to the girls how to write a piece that incorporated the sites name.

It went something like this:

HEAD INTERN: So lets say you just went to this nightclub that we promote on our site. When you write the piece say something like "hey me and my girls hit up this really cool club last night. We had the best night ever because there were a bunch of hot guys and the music was insane. Our night was awesome and me my girls had the best time ever!!!! We got the info on this place from [insert the name of the production company] and I am coming back as soon as possible =)." So that's pretty much what i want you guys to write while incorporating the name of the company.

My soul was crushed. I would never be proud of putting my name on something like that. Ever.The people who worked there were pretty much...well interested in night clubs and other promotional things. The girls were young and flaky and one of the only guys there kept saying "dude". Like excessively.

By the time I was called into the cubicle for the interview it was apparent by me and the person in charge that this was not the editorial internship I am looking for. I am into weird books, foreign movies, and taking pictures. I don't do nightclubs, fashion, and other crap like that. We entertained each other for a while as she went over the site and I pretended to care. When it was all over and done with I thanked her for having me in her office and that it was a pleasure to get a sense of her site.

I think we both turned each other down respectively, but I didn't feel so bad about this rejection.

I may sound pretentious right now but i couldn't imagine subjecting myself to writing fluff just to have an internship. I want to be taken seriously as a writer...whatever that means. I don't know anything about fashion, I like reading celebrity gossip but not writing about it, and furthermore if I have to write something like "that was da bomb" to get published...well then I'll pass.

I don't feel bad. I was very productive today and I know something will come my way. Something with people who sort of like the same things I do. Something where I get to read people's work or write some of my own that means something to a small community of like-minded people. Maybe I am a bohemian. But of course giving myself a label demotes my status completely.

I didn't know 'being someone' would be so hard. I am trying to become this quasi relevant person in a field that keeps rejecting me. I fear that i will get use to rejection and forget to strive for everything I imagine. So far I am keeping hope alone because honestly I'd rather struggle really hard to be somebody that settle to be mediocre.

6 days until I can go home. I am too excited.

The Night World.

One from the land of kings long forgotten;
One from the hearth which still holds the spark;
One from the Day World where two eyes are watching;
One from the twilight to be one with the dark.
-The Night World

Can it be? It is Friday night and I am not at work. No? I must be dreaming.

I have a cold. A really bad cold that makes me feel crabby and weak. Though i did not have to close tonight, I still had to drag myself into work for an 8 hour day selling teenagers those stupid Stephenie Myer books.

I've been meaning to say this for a long time, but i judge the people who read those books. As a fan of vampire lit, I am not even a tad bit interested in reading those books. From what I hear the writing is bad, really bad, though it has captivated the world and teenage audiences EVERY WHERE.

I feel bad.

When i was in middle school I was obsessed with LJ Smith books. Her books extend vampire teen love because they are all about soulmates and the secret society of vampires, werewolves and 'old souls' that roam the earth (but more importantly who threaten the safety of 'our' world. It was an intricate plot that i loved so much. The quote above has to do with four important characters that could save and destroy the whole world should they be captured by the wrong group ).

I mean THOSE were good books. THOSE had substance. I have not read Twilight but i have a bitter chip on my shoulder every time someone requests that book. I am pissed because Stephenie Meyer is just some chick who decided one day she wanted to write a book. I'm pissed because, as far as i can tell, there is nothing original about that story, and I am pissed because why the hell aren't people reading LJ SMITH. Soulmate is a classic vampire love story about teenagers but more importantly about the Night World.

Every time someone asks me where they can find the book I cannot help but hide my contempt. I want to ask "why" but instead point them in the direction of the Stephenie Meyer display and silently curse her and her stupid books ( i however do not hold this same feeling for the True Blood craze. I like that series, it's sort of original).

This could just be the medicine talking though. Tomorrow I am going to buy one of LJ Smiths book. I feel like I have to support her, as the whole world goes crazy for TWILIGHT.

I am going home next week. I put in my request about a month ago, and am looking forward to seeing my mom. Being so far away makes it hard for me to visit when i want to. But i miss my mom, and my bed, and though my cats won't be there to welcome me with purrs and kisses...i miss just being home.

Time for bed. I will regret this post in the morning. But whatever. U Suck Stephenie Meyer. U suck hard.

Saddest Girl Story

I have been ignoring Marie via the phone again, only because I don't wish to hear her talk about her boy problem. Not boys but boy. One boy. Who she likes and won't stop talking about. I am not depressed but if our friendship consists of me giving boy advice while she ignores my entry level career crisis...well then I can do without her constant calls for awhile.

She did forward this list to me though and because am going through a writing crisis as of late, I thought i'd share the results:

1.Put your iPod (itunes) on shuffle.
2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.
3. YOU MUST WRITE THAT SONG NAME DOWN NO MATTER HOW SILLY IT SOUNDS!

IF SOMEONE SAYS "IS THIS OKAY" YOU SAY?
Da Da Dada.

WHAT WOULD BEST DESCRIBE YOUR PERSONALITY?
Trolley

WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A GUY/GIRL?
Your Bulldozer

WHAT IS YOUR LIFE'S PURPOSE?
Escape

WHAT IS YOUR MOTTO?
Harder to Breathe

WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU?
Human Behavior

WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT VERY OFTEN?
Sailed On

WHAT IS 2+2?
The Blower's Daughter (this made me laugh so hard)

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND?
River Below

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
Adlai Stevenson

WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY?
Can't Tell Me Nothing

WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP?
Closing

WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU SEE THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
Nothing Left to Lose

WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU
Gentle Angels

WHAT WILL YOU DANCE TO AT YOUR WEDDING?
Luxurious

WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL?
Promiscuous (i resent that)

WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST?
Amazing Life

WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST SECRET?
Eh Hee

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS?
Pedestal

WHAT'S THE WORST THING THAT COULD HAPPEN?
Saul Bellow

HOW WILL YOU DIE?
As

WHAT IS THE ONE THING YOU REGRET?
Just Want you around

WHAT MAKES YOU LAUGH?
I can't even left my head

WHAT MAKES YOU CRY?
L.E.S Artises

WILL YOU EVER GET MARRIED?
Mama's room

WHAT SCARES YOU THE MOST?
The Sea

DOES ANYONE LIKE YOU?
All will be well

IF YOU COULD GO BACK IN TIME, WHAT WOULD YOU CHANGE?
Querido Amigo

WHAT HURTS RIGHT NOW?
Spider Web

WHAT WILL YOU POST THIS AS?
Saddest Girl Story

Time to sleep. I don't want to do anything but sleep these days. When I have a plan (for my career, life, and general direction) I will be able to drag myself out of this funk. Until then, my bed gets to carry the weight of my grumpiness.

....More Like Trudging Towards Something.

2nd internship is a bust. Per usual my question "is the position filled" was answered with "position has been filled thanks for the interest"

Motherfucker.

Winter is fast approaching and the possibility of me getting an internship soon is fading.

I am not mad. I am not sad. I am just frustrated beyond belief. I have so much drive and so much determination but i feel unpolished and I think that is shrouding my potential. I keep hearing my 11th grade journalism teacher telling me that i am a "diamond in the rough". Her voice irritates my head and i want nothing to brush her words off and go to sleep.

But she has a point. Everyone who has ever said that about me has a point.

I need a new plan. I need a new sense of direction.

Slouching Towards...Something.

Election day was a blast.

After a long day of avoiding news coverage I settled on the couch around 7 o'clock to watch the election unfold before me. No matter who your candidate was during this election, you have to admit that this was a historic event.

My aunt, who voted, did not want to watch the news at first. She came home late after waiting in line to vote and wanted to watch something that was....more entertaining. Of course once she came in and saw me and Michelle camped out in front of the tv flipping back and forth from NBC, CBS, and ABC she joined in too.

We had chips and dip, and of course a level of enthusiasm that made for a good night. We supplied our own commentary over the newscasters on tv. It was not highly intelligent commentary but we laughed our asses off throughout much of the night. We live in a blue state and because of this there was a lingering fear that if things turned out difficulty...something was getting torn down.

The Republican house is only a few blocks away and ever so often we would half-jokingly wonder if a full fledged riot was going to break out should McCain win. Every time we heard a police siren we ran to the window to peer outside only to have or fears calmed by silence.

Even Michelle joined in. For a 3 year old she picks up on things quickly. My aunt bought her the cutest "vote" t-shirt which she ended up spilling a ton of yogurt on. She was at first very confused when we would only clap for states that turned blue on the map. She concluded some time later that "Red is bad tonight. Blue is good. That's why you clap". I figure i'll save the whole "neither party is bad just represent different approaches to running to the country" speech for another night. So we just kind of agreed with her in the context of this election.

My mom and Marie called sporadically throughout the night. My mom wanted to talk about the states gained by the democratic party and Marie wanted to talk about...her guy problem. At 11, well after Michelle had fallen asleep in a pile of chips and dip, the president-elect was announced.

I don't even know where the scream came from. It sounded like my voice, except completely outside of my nature. It was high pitched and jovial and unadulterated in it's force. My aunt, who was as glued to the news as I was, screamed as well and jumped around the living. We eventually fell into a hug that spoke of relief.

The magnitude of the election did not hit me until the next morning. And while i was alone replaying everything in my head, I cried because maybe we can be anything we ever wanted to be despite race, gender, and socio-economic beginnings. As long as we have this drive, this unending pursuit of our dreams we can accomplish anything. We can inspire change.

My moment of contemplation was disrupted by a loud knock on the door. When I got to the stairs I heard the sound of Michelle's husky voiced babysitter coughing outside of the door. It seems we may have done too much partying on election night which caused Michelle to wake up with a wicked awful stomach ache in the morning. A stomach ache that caused her to throw up all over the babysitters house.

The babysitter called my aunt before bringing Michelle home. Because she had thrown up all over her clothes, she wearing a big t-shirt with her mary jane shoes when the babysitter handed her over.

Michelle is a stubborn, defiant, bossy yet a considerate and sweet child. She voices her opinions more than we would like to hear sometimes and we are still trying to teach her her manners. Regardless of our constant bickering about 'being nice to people' 'asking for things without yelling' and 'cleaning up after one's self'' she is doll to hang out with. She stood before me defeated by the upset stomach and collapsed on the floor crying that she didn't feel well.

The one thing that i regret saying when i was in high school (and in journals) was that i didn't want to get to married and have kids. I take it back only because kids respond to me with complete faith that I will take care of them. I have a maternal instinct that shocks me sometimes and even embarrasses me. I am patient yet stern, and I listen to kids ideas in an attempt to stir their imagination.

I know that I will forever sit at the kids table during family reunions not because I am immature, but because kids respond to me with a tad bit of respect. I have become the cool adult that i use to admire when my family came together for the holidays. There was always that one person, who was younger than the adults but close enough to our age to still connect with us.

Yesterday as Michelle barfed all over the house i held back her hair as she threw up in the toilet and I tried to console her stomach. To make her feel better I pretended as if i had a stomach ache too in hopes that she would mimic my actions (drinking water slowly, resting with my blanket...things like that). At noon, after she had all but exhausted herself from throwing up all morning she wanted to come in my 'room' and watch tv. We climbed under the blankets and watched some Family Guy until she faded off into sleep.

Sometimes i wonder if i am this self defeating person. I wonder if i push things away (or discard them with my words) because I don't feel like I deserve them. I don't know where it comes from. I did not have a horrible childhood, my teens years sucked...but whose didn't. My family life was okay and often magical. I am a product of divorce but i feel matured by the experience or at least that is what i tell myself.

But as I continue to struggle with relationships and getting close to people, I wonder if i push them away because I'm afraid of the things that i really want. That small ache that turns my hard facade into this nurturing , vulnerable and sensitive person consumed with a need to be wanted.

Michelle woke up soon after her nap and threw up all over my blanket. She apologized before slumping to the floor and spitting up water. After I cleaned her face and changed her clothes for the fifth time that morning, we jumped back into bed and discussed the picture of her and her brother on the wall.

"That's me" she said "When I'm no sick" Then she pointed to herself and said "Not like me now who is sick". It was the cutest thing ever, and I couldn't help but laugh.

I just hope that I haven't jinxed myself in some huge colossal way. That my proclamation of not wanting a family or a husband doesn't smack me in the face. I do want those things so deeply, I mean not today or even tomorrow but one day. I realize that it is more important to me than i could have ever imagined.

Back to some Joan Didion. She really is the writer I have always wanted to be. I can't get enough of her and I am tempted to purchase this book (despite it being 30 bucks). I emailed the editor yesterday to inquire about the internship. I have done my part to convince him that I am the person for the job, and now I can do nothing but wait. I am ready to start writing something...anything and getting it into print. This newspaper gig could give me the experience i need. Why does waiting suck so bad?

Election Day

I don't have to work today!!!!! Which means I get to sit at 'home' for the better part of the day/ evening watching the election on tv.

I've equipped myself with a few items:

• Nachos and queso cheese
• Portable heater to keep my feet warm and snugly
• awesome grandpa pajama pants for lounging
• A book to read should I get too nervous watching the news
• My computer to surf the net
• Halloween Candy for munching
• and tissues should things not turn out the way i want it to.

Luckily I qualified for an absentee ballot so i got to avoid the long lines at the polls. I don't get a cool 'I voted' sticker though, which would have gotten me a free coffee and donut at various stores.

This is only my second election and I am freaking out. I don't talk about politics on this blog because I don't want to alienate anyone who may have a different view from my own. But I am really hoping that this historic election results in our nation getting a president that speaks of change. It's time for a change.

Back to flipping channels. I can't bear the tension of election day, I may have to watch the cartoon network for a while.

We Tell Ourselves Stories In Order to Live.

I had a crappastic Halloween, thanks to the artist formerly known as my crush.

I was told that my favorite manager thinks I'm lovely and for this reason I now only work nights at the bookstore so I can train with her. I am receptive to learning new things, I look eager and helpful, and because of this I am given many projects to do.

I was not happy that I would have to work Halloween, especially because I couldn't find a costume. I shouldn't have looked for one on the week of Halloween because by the time I jumped on the costume train, everything was taken. However, I still went into work in good spirits. It was Halloween after all...and nothing but fun can be had on that day.

I was also kind of excited that I would get to work with and see my ex-crush. For me I never fully fall 'out of like' with someone. I just sort of move on, and ignore the bubbles in my stomach when said ex-crush comes by. I was serious when I promised myself that i would not continue to have a crush on someone if there was no potential for something serious. I cannot go through my whole life on the edges of a relationship because I am too afraid to take some sort of action.

After putting several things about this guy at the bookstore in perspective (he's in his mid 30's, in a relationship, and clearly nervous around me) I decided that instead of being 'in like' with him i would just be friendly. I get along with everyone else at work except him because he spends all of his time ignoring me. So on Friday I was all excited to put this new plan into play.

But when Ex-Crush wasn't blatantly ignoring me on Friday he was just plain rude to me, the WHOLE NIGHT. Like he physically could not stand being near me. And this is not an exaggeration. We were short staffed on Friday because everyone my age requested that day off. For this reason there were only about 4 of us working on the floor (including our cashier). By 6 o'clock Ex came in wearing an awesome costume (he was the scarecrow from the wizard of oz) and when he walked by me I said "What an awesome costume". He scoffed at me in a grouchy tone "Hello" and then went to talk to someone else. When another employee gave him a compliment on his costume he was the person I had my crush on in the first place; nice, receptive, charismatic in a stupid outfit, and witty.

At first I was like "okay maybe I caught him at a bad time" and I tried not to get all sad and weepy. An hour later I was doing zone maintenance (taking old books off the shelf to make room for new ones) in the humor section. I left the area for a moment and when I returned he was in the aisle struggling to find a space for some new humor books.

Me: Oh I can take those books. I'm doing zone maintenance in this area. I'm trying to make space for some new books now. I'm sorry the area looks like a mess

He did not turn around when I addressed him but instead kept his back towards me and said "what did you say" in a nonchalant tone.

So i repeated myself again( which i absolutely hate doing) . This time he shrugged his shoulder and ignored me. He didn't say anything. He ignored me like i was a figure just taking up space and his time. I didn't know whether to wait while he tried to squeeze the books on the shelf or leave and return when he was gone. So i waited for a few seconds and said "I'll come back when you're done i guess."

He picked the right costume. For someone as smart as he is, he does not have a brain. And could seriously use one in regards to our interaction. I have never felt more disgusted as I do when I'm around him. The weird energy he gives off towards me makes me feel like a ugly human being. I feel small and unwanted. There is nothing cordial about his interactions with me. It is almost violent in it's disregard.

I am sensitive I know, but I feel rejected even before I could make an attempt to befriend him. He has guard up about me, and at this point I don't care to make an effort to try to understand him or his ugliness.

He got to leave early that night because the manager I hate said he had the best outfit. To add insult to my already wounded ego, he started talking about his girlfriend up at the cash register where I happened to be working at the time. He was not discussing her with me of course, but with the manager who was up there to. It was weird sort of "hey so anyway my GIRLFRIEND..." kind of conversations. I just sort of cried silently inside to myself not because of any feelings I have for him, but because if he is trying to make me dislike him it is working. Not only do i dislike him, but i feel like a horrible person around him though he makes everyone else so happy.

That bastard.

I wrote a poem about him soon after i got back from work (at midnight). I don't know what it means but i think it sums up my feelings about him pretty well. My first adult crush comes to a crash and burn faster than I would have thought.

Anyway.

No word from 2nd editor yet. I will email him after the election to get some feedback on the position. I think we are all in a weird antsy place and tomorrow will calm or ignite our fears. For this reason I do not expect any word on the internship until Wednesday, but I will contact him first thing in the morning. Should I not get this one I will just have to look for something else. By January I will not be working at the bookstore, so i have to find something before then.

I have been reading a lot lately, and am now on a collection of essays by Joan Didion. I've decided that when i grow up I want to be her. She is an amazing writer and her talent makes me jealous. This writing thing does not come easy to me. I need help and a lot of work to become something more than a bookshelf writer ( a phrase my mom coined in regards to writers who write material for themselves. "you don't want a bookshelf of just your stuff" she said "everyone should see it"). I am seriously pursuing grad school now, and I have to start studying for the GRE. I have been toying with several ideas lately and even applying to my Alma Mater has run through my thoughts. The school is cheap, most of the people who saw potential in me are still there, and I would get into a program that could help me develop as a writer. What's two more years to a second chance at something.

Time to read before i have to go to work.