The Waiting Place

I had insomnia last night which is not a good thing for the psyche. I came 'home' around 11:30 (Marisol, a very nice graphic design graduate, gave me a ride) and could not get to sleep. There was no tossing or turning, simply a stilled thoughtful noise that kept me up all night.



I am fast proving to be the 'beckett of yester year' at work and not by my own volition. As the new girl there are two many eyes looking in my direction and all of them with wavering perceptions that tell only half the truth.



Some of my employees (the older crowd) perceive me as an energetic, outgoing 22 year old with charisma and talent. No one has of yet given me the stank eye when I mention that I am GOING to be a writer. They have that same false sense of security with my plans and aspiration.



The managers see me as dependable and (as I have feared) a keeper. They have given me different task from all the new people, including projects I don't feel a) interested in doing and b) trained enough to do them. The lady who hired me believes I am good at everything (she told me this) and because of this I am no longer working part time hours. I am clocking in 40 hours a week along with getting special training from the managers in areas I don't feel I should be trained in.



I am hoping that because of the holidays they are preparing me for all areas should they need me. But being slightly paranoid, I feel like they are prepping me for something more.



I am getting along with most of the co-workers my age. Marisol, who just started 2 weeks ago, is my favorite. She is cool, nice, and we instantly hit it off. In the car yesterday we discussed the hottness of Emile Hirsch along with our crush on adrian brody. Somewhere between Into the Wild and what it feels like to be a recent grad we discussed our aspirations. She wants a job in graphic design and recently had a 2nd interview with a popular website and a potential internship with Forbes Magazine.



I pushed jealousy aside and was generally happy for her. That same day I learned Kyle (another recent grad) was accepted into an actor's workshop in the city. He will no longer be an employee which I know he is thrilled about. All the people I like have the same sort of story, this Bookstore is just a Waiting Place until our real job comes along. I guess I am just a lot less patient then I thought.



In the meantime, I continue to wait for any word about the internship. It has been 3 weeks to the day since I sent my reader response, and I have heard nothing. I do not want to be annoying and pestering but I feel like knowing something (even if it is a no) is better than waiting around. Any feedback on whether I should send her a email or not would be helpful. This waiting makes me feel useless and antsy. I am doing my self critical over analyzing thing which kept me up last night.



On my extended break from the Internet I began writing a story in my new writing journal. It is a little rough right now (that's called a first draft for you) but i like it a lot. I have been considering grad school as a real possibility now. I am looking at international schools because i would love to study and sort of get some traveling under my belt.



The schools have ranged from large ( NewCastle University) to small (Kings College) but the programs offer a dual concentration in creative writing and publishing. Along with the wicked opportunity to study abroad, the programs offer internship to students. I have been mulling around with the cost of studying abroad, but the school itself is cheaper (after the conversion factor of course) than the school I was considering in New York.



Other than housing and travel expenses I can see this as a real possibility. I fear being home sick, but I know that being in school will make me feel closer to my dream. I am still considering schools stateside, but possibly outside of new york. Somewhere a little smaller and where I can breathe in the fresh air.

No one seems to understand my concerns a the present moment. I am pulling in a good 40 hours a week which is not what i wanted to do. My mom thinks I am paranoid, on this blog I feel ungrateful and whiny as I write my concerns, and by myself in the 'real world' i feel unhappy. Like seriously unhappy. I would quit my job in a heartbeat were it not for the feedback I would get from my family. I do not care about the money. I hate my job. I want to quit my job. I want to quit today.