Curb Your Enthusiasm.

Have I really made it to Friday? I can't believe it, really. This week went by so fast I barely had time to ingest it all. Today I got a random text from Angie about how I was doing and I didn't know how to answer because I don't really know.

Angie and I have been talking very infrequently these days and I am starting to feel like this friendship is headed to the tomb of "people I use to know". I didn't want it to end this way but i am sensing it. I have trouble keeping in contact with people. It's because I don't like feeling like a bother (and I am sorta lazy) . I would rather have someone call my phone than for me to call and interrupt them. I did this once. I called Marie when she was having lunch with her friends, and she sounded so disinterested in talking to me that the feeling of her being bored with me on the phone still stings today. There was this horrible moment where she answered the phone and was like "hey, what do you want I am out with my friends". Yeah. It sucked.

I am trying though. With Angie I enjoyed our friendship so much I made an effort to keep in touch with her when she moved to Washington DC. I even plan (planned) on visiting her in September. I send her emails every once in a while to say 'hey' along with texts just to see how she is, but for some reason she does not respond to any of these. I get an occasional text message (never with a follow through response) which mostly involve her asking me about how New York is. Why don't you just ask me about the weather and get it over with?

Today she text(ed) me and asked her usual question 'how are you'. I didn't really know how to answer. For the most part I feel okay. I mean my internship sucks balls (yesterday The Nazi told me and Bethany to shut up because we were distracting her.), the job is going okay but all these new faces are overwhelming me, and New York is doing okay too except I haven't been to the city since I got off the train in Penn Station. So I sent back a text saying "I'm doing great, how about you?" She never replied.

I think The Editor is certifiable. Everyone is right, I am gathering up a handful of material on this nutbag. Bethany and I are like two abused children who react to the lash before the strike hits us. I have been there four times already, and the insanity of this lady is laughable. Bethany gets to deal her craziness much more than I do, but because I am so close to her desk I feel the pain by proxy.

Case in point, we were told to shut up yesterday because The Editor decided she wanted to read over some cover copies in the office me, Bethany and The Associate editor use. Remember The Editor has her OWN office, an office she can sit in for all her editing needs. But no, she wanted to sit in there with us because she is fucking nuts. Bethany and I were reading manuscripts when Bethany said she found a really good one out of the pile of crap. I, at the same time was reading a really good manuscript (which The Editor later rejected). We made quick comments back and forth regarding our stories(which we never EVER do in the office) when The Editor went all bitch crazy.

"Can you two like not do that right now. I am trying to edit something!". The tone was sharp and very rude, I thought she was going to throw something. Bethany shrunk in her seat and apologized, I gave The Editor the stank eye before remembering my position. Sometimes when the editor is yelling at Bethany I curse her out quietly in my mind. It usually goes something like "I wish she would talk to me like that. I would walk the f*ck out of this office with my book bag and apple juice and if she dares says something, I tearing this place up"

I would never say or do this in real life, but for some reason I feel like being an unpaid employee gives me the ability to drop this internship the moment I get verbally assaulted. I may not come up with something brilliant to say to the editor as I make my grand old exit out of her office (with apple juice in tow) with dignity and pride but I would leave with some final word parting words.

I love Curb Your Enthusiasm, and every time I imagine what the event will be that will make me finally end the internship with the lady, I always envision it starting small and ending very Larry David like. The Editor will blow up at me because something wasn't stapled the right way, or Bethany and I said one word to one another. I will have decided that traveling 2 hours back and forth to the unpaid internship is not worth it and being yelled doesn't make it any better. I will then (after she has said something off the wall) cock my head towards her, give her my very best stank face and reply very Larry David like: Are you fucking nuts, before grabbing my stuff and heading out the door.

I guess I can dream, can't I.

Wrong Side of the Tracks

I am not understanding some parts of public transportation. Yes I have ridden many buses and trains in my lifetime but for some reason I have yet to catch on to the fact that one bus goes up the street and the other goes down the street. Or that one train is going south and one is going north. For this reason I have managed to miss, re-miss and catch the wrong train or bus several times in the last week.

Today was no different. After arriving in Connecticut for the internship, that I still am not a huge fan of, I decided to try taking the bus to 'work' instead of spending 8 dollars on a cab. I went up a street, down a street, back down a street only to arrive right where I started (the train station) where my bus stop was at the whole time. Of course when the time came for me to decide whether the bus stop was on the left side or the right side, I was baffled and a little confused. I mean subways are so much easier than riding a bus. I never ever get confused, but these damn buses and Connecticut trains are confusing me. For the bus, I am never sure about what constitutes 'exact change' (lets say you have 2 dollar bills and the bus is 1.75? will they not let you on because you are giving them an extra quarter. I'm just wondering), and I always sit in the seats designated for wheel chairs. I like sitting up front, sue me.

Once I found the bus stop I waited for a few minutes, was tempted to ask the weird guy next to me which bus went where but bailed on that idea pretty quickly. A couple of minutes later two buses with the same number came down opposite sides of the street. One was white and had that 1950's model going, the other was updated with huge panel windows. I stood paralyzed, clutching the 1.75 cents (the fare) in my hand because I didn't know what bus would take me where. In the minute it took me to take tentative steps towards one bus and then the other, they both speed off without me. Damn.

Thursday I will attempt this experiment again, and maybe this time I will get on the bus instead of watching them pass by me with passengers, including the crazy one who surprisingly knew what bus to ride.

Today was an okay day. The Editor didn't wig out, the Associate Editor remained quiet, and I actual like this Bethany chick. But I don't know if I am okay with this internship being ok. I am growing more and more certain that publishing isn't for me. Reading bad writing is crushing, and I can't sit at that desk for another second. Marie thinks I should email Lenny (my only production contact) and ask him if he knows of any openings, internship or job wise. It would be wise to just let him know that i am looking to get some production work and that if he hears anything he should contact me. I need to do this, I haven't yet but I will.

Something That Needs Nothing

I been meaning to mention the whole internship thing for days now, but I got all caught up in sleep and trying to find another internship (or job) in production, to summarize the two days (and counting) of hell in Connecticut.



A couple of months ago I read a collection of essays called 'I Was Told There'd Be Cake' by a 20 something year old New Yorker, Sloane Crosley. The essays are sort of funny, and the fact that she is from Westchester intrigued me but for the most part I wasn't completely in love with the book(like I was am Miranda July's short stories. You.Must.Read.Them). Where some essays were really funny, others were skippable and during my time spent reading her book I felt she got very lucky because she is sort of pretty and fairly young. Publishers love that shit.



The point is, one of her essays I enjoyed the most chronicled her first real job at a publishing house. She talked about how during the interview process she and the editor hit it off. She saw the editor as someone who could mentor her and help her further her career. But when she was actually hired and the falseness of interview repertoire fell apart, the editor turned out to be a complete and utter psycho. The person who interviewed her and the person she worked for turned out to be two different people.

At the time, the essay was so funny to me because I all I could think about was "I hope that never happens to me". Well it has folks and I don't know how much longer I can stand it. I knew from my interview in May that the publishing house was a small division of a much bigger (though independent) company. Literally outside of myself there are three people in the whole company. The Editor, the Associate Editor and the Editorial Assistant (the job I applied for Thank God I didn't get it). During the interview process I was the one doing most of the talking because I wanted to make a good impression. The editor loved my personality even though my inexperience killed it. Hence why I am an intern .

From what I can remember, the Editor didn't seem that crazy on the day of the interview. She was a little scatter brained, and her associate editor did most of the talking. But on Tuesday when I started the internship I sort of noticed her craziness right away. She still it completely scatter brained but even worse she is sort of a bitch. They got a new editorial assistant in May and lets just say she isn't adjusting well. She is a 35 year old romance writer who works part time there to support her writing ( I also, never want to be her) . Her name is Bethany and she is super nice, but she is also the punching bag for these two women.

With an office of only 3 people you'd think the women would get along with one another like a nice chick flick, but the editor is snappish, the associate editor is cold and Bethany seems caught in the middle. On Tuesday when there wasn't total and utter silence in the office Bethany kept getting yelled at for stupid things, which in turn made me less than inclined to ask any questions. When I get the nerve to ask a question in regards to a particular author I wasn't sure their division published, the editor gave me a tongue lashing preview "get your facts straight we don't publish that author. I don't care how much you like her work, I don't need you walking around this office thinking we publish her when we don't"

O.K. This did not stop me from trying to get a sense of what kind of books they DO publish, so I asked another question. I don't read romance books that much, and the books they publish definitely don't interest me. They are targeted towards a much older audience and are sort of lame. I wanted to know what the editor looks for in submissions to which she applied "you would know,if you read our website".

I told her, politely, that I did read the website but that since she is the editor I wanted to know what she wanted from her own mouth. Instead she said 'why don't you tell me, it's your job to know'. So i tried to remember what the website said, but by then I was too tongue tied to remember. I fumbled with how it was worded and she didn't take long to correct me "that's not what the website says. You have to pay attention. You aren't paying attention to anything"

After that I was done asking questions for the day. Bethany gets it the worse though. The verbal beatings are almost too much to handle and I wonder why someone her age would put up with that. I guess she noticed my discomfort after she was yelled at for something that didn't seem like a big deal because she whispered to me, "don't worry she's always like this. It has nothing to do with you, it's just the way she is". If that doesn't sound like something a battered child would say, I don't know...

Besides the fear of being yelled at for something stupid, there is something so sterile about being there. Though I have talked about wanting my own desk, and a computer for a very long time I am struck by how much contempt I have for those things now as I sit in an office for 8 hours trying not to fall asleep. There is no teamwork, everyone is sort of doing there own thing quietly and to themselves. The associate editor is typing at her computer, Bethany is typing at hers, and when she tries to bring up a conversation she is told to "shut up"creating more awkwardness in the already stilled silence. There are no windows, no radio playing to drown out the sound of the AC, and I feel like I am not doing anything even though I have stuff to do.

It's dreadful, and I have never wanted to get out of something as much as I do this. I realized when I was in that office, reading over some lame manuscript, that I do not want this to be my career. I have no interest in editing someone else's story for publication. The life of a book takes FOREVER and it doesn't seem worth it. Not if at the end of the day all I have to look forward too is a crazy editor who may one day throw something at me while I am editing a sentence where bosoms don't even heave but instead just flutter. I'm giving it a week, and then I have decisions to make.

Book Talk...

...for a moment, I promise.

I know that i must talk about the craziness that is my week. From the insane editor at the romance publishing house , to m*therfudging loan lenders who screwed me over royally. Royally.

I am no longer as broke as I was, thanks to my mom, and I am trying to solve the internship problem by sticking with it until I can find another one in production. I have never wanted to carry a 10 pound camera around Midtown new york as much as I do know.

But before I get to all of that (tonight maybe. 9pm) I must talk books for a moment. Yesterday I went to the library because being around books soothes my nerves. Yes I work at a bookstore, yes I intern (regrettably) at a publishing house, but I am much more of a fan of reading books than anything else. And because of my shittastic couple of days, I wanted to grab some books to drown myself in.

As you may, or may not know, I am a fan of horror movies. Not in that weird way where my walls were decorated with posters of scary movies as a teen. I never wore slasher tees and talked obsessively about the demise of good horror movies in chat rooms, I simply have enjoyed scary movies since I was a kid and of course as an adult (eww, i hate the word). I read a lot of scholarly text on the horror genre, because beneath all the gore and unnecessary nude scenes there is a science to it all. Particularly in my area of interest, the final girl.

If I go back to school, I would take some classes in film studies, just so I could earn some sort of degree or certificate in that study. I love films, and some are as interpretable as books are. The point is, I have been meaning to read this book called The Final Girl by Daphne Gottlieb. It is a collection of poems detailing the plight of final girls (the ones who survive horror movies). Surprisingly the public library had a copy and yesterday I got through half of the poems before bed, which led me to have this crazy dream about my not so long ago teen years.

At the bookstore, because it is summer, we are bombarded by teenagers who have nothing to do all night. Of course they gather around the newstand and drool over the pages of teen magazines which almost exclusively feature the stars of Twilight. The books and movies bother me more than anyone could ever know. And until last night I didn't have a clue why. I like vampires. I like cheesy romances. I like British boys, but for some reason I border on hating the books and the movie with a passion.

The teen idols circa the late 90's and early 2000's are very different from the ones today. Where I had Sarah Michelle Gellar, Jason Behr, Freddie Prince Jr, and Joshua Jackson the 'newest' crop of teenagers have Robert Pattinson (?), Zac Efron (who doesn't bother me so much) and Kristen Stewart.

When I woke up this morning I suddenly remembered that in regards to vampire flicks, and teen dramas of my yesterdays, the heroines who starred in my teen vampire dramas, or Thursday night line up were strong, almost masculine tragic heroes. While Belle encompasses the whole 'Damsel in Distress' era, there was a time (for my generation anyway) where women/girls trapped in extraordinary situations kicked ass and were much more of the savior than the one waiting to be saved.

This is just a tentative argument, the kinks have to be worked out, but from what I can see there are a slew of books, movies, and other forms of media that are bringing the whole damsel in distress thing back. I don't know much about Twilight but I know that Belle is someone who is constantly being rescued throughout much of her narrative, there are few to none ass kicking heroines on tv anymore... I mean heroines who have to deal with supernatural elements and who aren't waiting to be rescued throughout half of it. I am on the fence with Sookie Stackhouse.

Buffy Summers, Liz Parker, Sidney Prescott, The Sisters from Charmed, and Julie James (just to name a few) were girls ( and teen idols) who did not succumb to their extraordinary situations. Buffy Summers slayed vampires because it was her duty, Liz Parker fought to save the life of her alien soulmate Max Evans because of love, and poor Sidney Prescott spent several movies evading all the insane men (and one woman) who tried to kill her. Now, all I ever see on TV and movies are capable women being rescued by not so capable men. Sookie, despite her skill, is always being rescued by Bill , Sam, Eric, Jason...and don't even get me started on Belle who apparently is being rescued all the damn time.

Along with these damsel like women, the male teen idols (especially) are flawed, premature male figures. Though they are the ones doing the saving, you wonder if they are equipped to do so because they seem to vacillate between action and in action. Edward is absent for most of the 2nd book, making him a hero that is replaceable and not stable.

Damn it all to hell I think I am on to something. Growing up with female teen models who were strong, smart, and never ending in their pursuit to save themselves or their loved ones, makes the re-adjustment to this new teen model difficult. Especially when the girls are only in the position of being saved and the boys are not only the anti-hero but very feminine in nature.

If my argument holds up, then my (and others) dislike of Twilight has a lot to do with the lack of a strong final girl in these books and movies. Instead of having a strong protagonist we can look up to, we instead have these girls who are in wait for the knight and shinning armor to save them (and us) . I don't know if this is a feminist argument, but maybe the need to be rescued has a lot to do with the times. Stephenie Meyers got incredibly lucky that instead of women wanting a warrior women who saves the day, there is a new desire for 'us' to lay in wait for someone to save us and love us.

Sorry for the babble but I had to write it down before I forgot my argument. I really need to get into graduate school, I have no where to discuss my theories. Damn.

Time for work.

Getting Screwed.

I do not mean to keep writing these incredibly short posts. I was actually planning on writing about my two days at my new internship. I was going to tell you all about the craziness that is my editor and her small staff of middle aged and worn women. But instead I must bitch about student loans and the fact that my internship application (allowing me to defer my loans until January) was denied on the grounds that the internship is not a medical or dentistry one.

This is a huge What The Fuck from loan lenders. Of course, no one told me this during the 35 minute conversation I had with 4 different people 3 weeks ago about applying for an internship deferment. No one told me this Monday when I called them, or when I called them last Friday. No one told me this when I ask if there was another form for me to fill out. No one at all.

So of course when I called today to make sure my paper work was being processed a nice college student,named Lauren, told me that my application was denied on the grounds that my internship is not for medical or dental school. Not only was it denied but...and here comes the kicker...I am obligated to pay what I owe for August, September and the late fee they added on (which they won't waiver).

I am crushed. I am broke and crushed. I had no other choice but to fork over my incredibly large loan amount, and now I literally have 40 dollars in my account. I wish I was making this up. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I am sitting in the shadow of my tear filled hour on the phone with Lauren, the college student, with absolutely no idea what to do.

I have no money, I get paid tomorrow but it wont help that much. I am in the red, I have suddenly become the starving artist i never wanted to be. Except I don't even have the cool loft (that I can't afford), or the hot starving artist boyfriend (who walks around shirtless for much of the day) or even the works of my art (in this case stories) to glorify the life. Instead I only have the poor and starving part.

If (Part 2)...

....the place you were interning at still kind of sucked because you work with (only) 2 people who don't say anything for 7 1/2 hours a day, and your boss (who was on a business trip today) is still a complete and utter nut job scares the shit out of you, what would you do? Hypothetically of course.

Grant it that day #2 was not as bad as day #1 or that you didn't have to pay a cab driver eight dollars to cross a very small draw bridge to get to your job. But, you still want to gauge your eyes out (and during the mindless hours reading books you have devised ways to do so) because you don't understand how an office of only 3 people can be so cold and unfriendly, and the dog (yes there is a dog) makes you sneeze.

Grant it that you may have learned a few things from the not so mean Associate Editor when you weren't eyeing the poor editorial assistant to see if she had any visible scars from the tongue lashing she received all day yesterday and occasionally today.

Grant it you may be a flaky person who has doubts about everything, but what if you are pretty sure you would rather take the high road than be beaten down. Would you:

A) Run for the hills. This shit isn't worth it. Tell Editor that if she ever talked to you the way she talks to the editorial assistant your ass would be out of there so fast. Oh, and ask poor Editorial Assistant if she wants to hit the high road with you when you decide to leave.

B) tough it out. It's the first week and you wanted this Bitch. Don't punk out now. People suck, some more than others, it's called life.

C) Decide that publishing really isn't for you, but the experience is good. Tough it out until you can find a internship in production. Decide that writing books while reading books for a living is not something you can do without eye gauging. Be happy that you now know what you don't want to do with your life.

Hypothetically of course

If....

...the lady you were interning with was a -how do I say this lightly-crazy bitch, and the task of editing romance books made you want to gauge your eyes out with a pen would you:

A) quit the internship before your soul is crushed and/or you curse out your crazy (like for real) boss out for being snarky bitch when it's not necessary.
B) stick it out and hope that the first day was just a fluke
C) Realize that after a year of wanting a publishing internship you aren't really a publishing kind of girl because desks are lame and staring at a computer screen for 8 hours straight is no fun.

Hypothetically speaking of course?

'Today's' The Day

Well technically Tomorrow is the Day, but that title sounded a little weird.

In less than twelve hours I will be on a bus or train or cab to Connecticut to start my publishing internship. This internship is a year in the making. I mean At 23, should I still be having first day jitters. Yes, I have been in the office before, I have met and talked to 2 out of the 3 people that i will be working with for the next 3 months, and yet...I am nervous. More than nervous, I border on being completely and utterly scared shitless.

I mean a year ago I landed in New York and had just gone on a interview for a job as a underwriter for speciality insurance. Seriously. Now, after a whole year of being a bookseller and interning for Lenny, I finally have a publishing internship. The publishing house is a small one because it is a division of a much larger corp, because of this I will literally be working in an office of 3 people (not including me), but still it's a lot closer to getting a real job than I was a year ago.

Yesterday I had a small anxiety attack. I haven't had one in such a long time that it freaked me out. It came out of nowhere (well not nowhere) and I had to go outside to catch my breath. Before the attack, I was sitting in the living room and I felt suffocated by the presence of my aunt and cousins. I looked over to my left and my aunt and cousin where sitting on the couch, the couch that i would soon be sleeping on. And all I could think about was the fact that where my aunt was sitting was where my head would be resting in a few minutes. Right there. Where her ass was resting.

Of course, this led me to obsess over my lack of privacy here. That I don't have a place I can escape too, and before I knew it I started to worry that things would never get better. That after working at my crap job, interning, sleeping on the couch and watching the Disney channel with a four year old, all I would have to show for my hard work was a couch and frozen dinners. Sometimes I worry about my future, I have irrational thoughts about where I will end up. For the most part I know (and hope) that one day I will be able to look back on these times with fondness, but sometimes the little voice in my head worries that 'this is it'.

I calmed down of course after a jog and a talk with both my mom and Marie but still it freaked everyone out including myself. Ever so often I think about going back to therapy. In all honesty I would have continued seeing a therapist if I was in school, and the only reason I don't see one now is because I can't afford it. But with all these changes a coming, my anxiety is all over place. I am finding it harder and harder to stay optimistic even though things are looking up.

But because I don't have the luxury of seeing someone every other week who will quell my fear and anxieties, I can do nothing else but hope these attacks don't as much due to these changes that are happening.

So, tomorrow I set off on my first day of this new internship. I am nervous, just like the first day of school, or the first time I spent a night at someones house, far away from my mom. I am nervous just like the first time I sat behind the wheel of car and started the ignition to the sound of the engine spurting to life. It's that feeling, when you suddenly realize your whole life has come to the point where you don't think you can conquer the obstacle in front of you until you've conquered it. Until you've stepped through the door of your Kindergarten class, or put the car into motion after you've stepped lightly off the brake, and breathed.

Sold Out.....

Fuck. Why does fate continue to smack me in the face.

Back in the Swing of Things.

I've been in New York for five days and I am exhausted. I had a nice two day break where all I did was catch up on sleep and read. But those days flew by very quickly and before I knew it I was at work again, answering the phone, helping customers, and wishing the night to be over.



There have been many changes at the bookstore. My favorite manager of course is moving back to California. Her husbands company closed down and they have no choice but to move. There was an issue between two employees (and former friends) which resulted in one of them getting fired. Surprisingly I am work friends with both of them and I am pissed about the whole incident.

Guy #1 (who was friends with Guy #2 ) is dating the girl who works in the cafe. No one thinks this is a real relationship. She frowns a lot and has a dry sense of humor, he for the most part is a huge ham and talks nonstop. Guy #2 is...how do i put this...is pretty much a man whore. He has tried to sleep with almost every girl employee and talks nonstop about his sexual escapes. When he isn't talking about his latest conquest he is fun to be around. Before Guy #1 began dating Girl in Cafe he knew that Guy #2 had had sex with her. When she wasn't his girlfriend, it was okay, but as soon as she became his girlfriend he felt threatened or something. Long story short because Guy #1 is a sort of manager he got Guy# 2 fired.

It happened a couple of weeks after I left but of course it was the first thing everyone wanted to talk about. I have had some problems with Guy#2 in the past, but it seems unfair that he got canned because of something very stupid. Guy#1 basically told the other managers that Guy#2 was making personal threats against him and customers. This is hogwash and I have yet to hear his side of the story.

But these are not the only changes. A lot of people are going back to school, the crew of employees is getting smaller and smaller, and suddenly I am feeling that it also my time to go. The bookstore has been good to me, I know this, but I have always hated the feeling of being left behind. I detest feeling like everyone is moving forward, only for me to be stuck in the same place. I have a couple of months of this internship, and I definitely have a couple of months of saving money and job searching but I know my time there is coming to close, not because I hate it there just because I have other things to do.

So far my life schedule will be a little jacked up for a while. I think that I will have at least one day off a week. At the bookstore I will most likely be on the closing shift, and I will be in Ct for two days a week from 9:30 to 5:30 (excluding travel time which makes it more like 7am-7pm). I'm young I don't need sleep, I know this, but I will seriously have to increase my naps if I am going to make it through the day.

The lack of sleep is messing with my dreams. I still have them(thank god) but they are more vivid and a little weird. Yesterday I had a dream about a shape shifting werewolf who was also a time traveler. This may have had something to do with being around books all day yesterday, but still it was a pretty weird dream. I woke up around 6:30 cursing Stephenie Meyers and The Time Travelers Wife for screwing with me.

I have to work today until midnight. How fun. My body is not use to this schedule and I am aching all over the place. I hope all of this struggle, time, and soreness pays off in the end. I need it to. It has to.

Updating the Mom to 2009.

My mom is very old school. For the past few years I have been trying to update her from the early 1990's to the new century. This means getting her a microwave without the turn knob, buying her a new television accompanied by a little thing called a DVD player, and as of March 2009 getting her a MP3 to upgrade her from a walkman. Seriously.

Technology is a little much for my mother but she is adapting quickly, I taught her how to text a month ago, and I've gotten her hooked on Itunes Podcasts. The Internet is still a little weird for her to maneuver but for the most part she is getting the hang of it. She had a computer about five years ago but my brother fucked it up something awful with all his downloads. It use to be a functioning desktop computer but after a few years with him the thing barely turned on.

While my computer was in the shop this summer, I decided to take the old computer from the attic and see if cleaning it up, deleting some old files, and updating the virus scan would help it some. It took a few days but the computer is in better shape. It still cuts off, but you can get a good hour of usage, which is all she really needs.

The five year absence has rusted up my moms computer skills, especially when it comes to emailing me. Surprisingly we still have an AOL account, it's a rip off I know to pay 30 some odd dollars a month for the service but it's useful. She still doesn't understand the whole logging on to her email account ( 'I don't see my name') or the signing off thing ( 'so to sign off, I turn the whole computer off') but she's getting there.

Yesterday I sent her an email, just to see if she could log onto her account without my help. A few hours later I did receive an email from her but from my brothers account and with this little note:

"hey Beckett where is my letter I need help love mom"

One day at a time, I guess.

I am waiting for my cousin to go to work so i can start my day. This includes calling my dad, scheduling a hair appointment, and possibly going to the library again. I went there to get some books on Peru on Monday but of course I ended up with a handful of fiction stuff.

On Monday I also went to work. I wasn't schedule to work that day but one of the managers asked if I wanted an extra shift and because I need the money I didn't turn it down. Of course there have been significant changes since I left, including someone getting fired. Someone who I've had some issues with in the past but became close to towards the end of his time there. It sucks hardcore and of course I will write all about it here.

Until Then,

Beck

Tennessee's a Brother to My Sister Carolina

So I'm back in New York. For some one who hates moving around, I do a lot of it. On Saturday I finished packing my bags, spent the rest of the day telling myself that New York is where I need to be (for the time being) and then boarded the train tearfully as my mom and brother waved goodbye to me.

It sucked hardcore.

I know that I am here for the right reasons. I am gaining experience, learning more and more things about what I want for my life, and yadda yadda yadda, but when I sat down in my seat on the Amtrak train bound for New York all of that flew out the window. I wanted to stop the train and get off. I loved being home, I mean I wouldn't love it for ever, but I love that at this point I can go home whenever I want, for as long as I want without any 'real' worry. But I know that won't be the case soon, unless I win the lottery, write a bestseller, or marry someone really rich (which is lame), because at some point I will have a job that requires me to be their throughout the whole year. I can't decide to take 6 weeks off and lay in bed at my moms house. Not if I get a real job anyway.

I know that writing is like the hardest career ever. Sure there are a handful of bestselling authors but honestly how many people out there are attempting to write to become one of those bestselling authors or an award winning journalist. Everyone thinks they can write and in doing so becoming a legit author is hard. I mean sure you have your fluke successes like Stephenie Meyers but for the most part for every real writer there is, there are a billion other people who think they can write.

This guy at work wants to be a writer too, he told me so after I talked to him about the few workshops I have taken and that I may want to pursue an MFA. He was almost offended by this, he wanted to take the Keroaucan approach to writing sans school but a lot of boozy with friends. The only reason he wants to write is so that he can sell one big novel, have that novel be turned into a movie, and there you have it... a life of luxury.

It's like the reason people want to become actors. Sometimes its not even because they love the craft so much, but jut because of the money and fame. I'm just saying. I love writing, and I hope I am successful at it. I want to be able to take care of my family, especially my mom but I also want to be good at it. I want to be respected by the small clique of good writers out there. But that seems so hard to do.

I've only been in New York for two days, and the homesickness is killing me again. Not as bad as the first time but still a little tough to deal with. I have to keep reminding myself why I am here. I keep picturing the goals I have set for my life, just so I understand that I have to be a part of the grind before I can be who I want to be and do what I want to do.

I am ready to admit something finally. Something I have been very elusive about on this blog. For the last ten years I have lived in South Carolina. I don't know why that was so hard to type.I don't know why I have not wanted to disclose this little bit of information. But that's why I always refer to the distance from my childhood home to my teenage home as "The Big Move". My mom and dad were both born in the Carolina region. My dad moved to New York by himself when he was 14. My mom moved to New York when she was 12 from Charleston South Carolina. Though my brother and I were born and raised in New York I have always been embarrassed about my southern roots. I don't know why yet.

I moved to South Carolina when I was 12 years old, and sometimes I have the accent to show for it. The South is a weird place. It is full of tradition and history along with hypocrisy which carries with it a mix of ignorance. If you ever been there, the scenery can be quite haunting and beautiful. The trees are old and the branches sort of cave over the streets creating tunnels of foliage and shadows. I live down the street from several farms with red barns and cows grazing on the field. I drive past more pick up trucks then compact cars, and football is huge. The parts of the South I like will never make up for the parts I don't like but after years of hating the South so much I am not to frightened to admit that it's home to me.

I never felt entirely comfortable there. I never really belonged and because of this I spent a lot of time by myself, listening to Ryan Adams on lazy Sundays, and writing so much that I have a writers wart on my pointer finger. But after 10 years of southern accents, sweet tea, and churches on every corner, ten years away from the toughness of New York and sparkling lights of the city I have to admit that the South has shaped who I am. In that writing workshop I took my last year of college, someone compared all of my stuff to southern Gothic literature and at first I was offended. But now I realize that the place has influenced me a little, and I can't deny that forever. I do miss being inspired by trees and the silence, I do miss the sweetness and simplicity, and though I don't plan on ever living there again, I do need to escape there every once in a while to regenerate and find solace, if anything else.

I hope one day that I will have a career where 'escapes to writing haven' is a part of my job description. Because though I am back in New York preparing to start my internship, preparing to get this writing career off the ground, preparing for my real life to begin, I do miss the hot sweltering heat, I miss the view from my window, and I miss the silence.

Anyway.

Time to unpack, even though I now reside in my aunts living room so my things are literally in a corner on the floor. Damn, I know signed up for this but my back hurts from sleeping on the cough. Hopefully when my cousin heads back to school, I can upgrade to the bedroom. Fingers crossed.

On Tour

Sufjan. Sufjan. Sufjan. Sufjan. Sufjan. Sufjan. Sufjan. Sufjan. Sufjan. Sufjan. Sufjan. Sufjan. Sufjan!

Sufjan Stevens is going on tour! He will be at the Bowery Ballroom October the 4th-5th. I have to go to this thing. I have to. I don't know how, but I must. Even if that means heading into the city by myself to see! Too excited for words.

August Rush

I am enjoying my last full day home. This week has flown by and I am trying to get in as much hugs as I can before I leave.

I hate this. I hate being torn between two worlds. One where I am independent and leading a life that I hope will be full of adventure, passion, and happiness. And one where I want nothing more than to be with my family in our little world known as Small Town USA. Where weekends are spent watering plants, making pancakes and watching marathons on various channels.

I hate being torn between two worlds that differ so greatly but that offers me things I feel that I both want and need. I feel anxious about being pulled in two directions, I feel suffocated by my own desires to be fully apart of both worlds even though I know I will eventually have to release myself from one (a little) in order to move forward.

Until then, I am enjoying my last full day home. In bed. Hugging my pillows and taking in this place and my life here until the next visit.

I'm Nervous.

So this was my last full weekend home. I am more bummed out than I thought I would have been a couple of months ago. Trust me, I am excited to get back to my 'life'. I know that I need to be in New York to start and then complete this internship, so I can finally get a promising job, and then maybe get published. My mind knows this, my body even knows this..but this has not prevented the build up of anxiety arising in my stomach.

Last night I couldn't sleep and after 23 years of semi-insomnia, I know what a sleepless night means. I don't really understand why things like this make me nervous, I mean worse than nervous, anxious. I had a horrible dream that I returned to NY and everything had changed. No one remembered who I was, in fact no one cared who I was because in the span of 6 weeks so much had changed. In my dream, I walked into my bookstore job and everyone kept asking me why I was there. There were also a slew of new faces, all tall and intimidating people who replaced the ones I am familiar with.

I walked around the store for a while, but I was becoming invisible to everyone (it seemed). No one saw me or cared that I was there. I then go into the break room to see if I am even on the schedule and my name is there along with 7 names I am unfamiliar with. The schedule is barely one at all, there are no hours and no shifts, just a dumb list with ridiculous times written down. The only person who knows who I am is this guy named Brian, who I never really talked to him because everyone has a massive crush on him at work. He has striking red hair which is always pulled back into a low ponytail, and his face is unusually handsome. He looks different in my dream though, for some reason his red hair has streaks of grey in it, and he is looking ultra shaggy. When he passes me he mentions something about my return but then walks out. I then spend the rest of the dream walking around with my suitcase.

That's my kind of nightmare. The dream is not just about my bookstore job though, I am nervous in general. Severely anxious about the future. It is during these moments where i wish I was going to grad school, just 2 hours away, around a corner and down a hill. In a way I am half-heartily been playing out scenario number 1 with this little vacation. I mean up until I received the rejection letter I was 75% sure I was going to be attending school in the fall. I was to come home in June, enjoy my summer with my family, and then embark on my schools writing program. I have done 2 out of the three things in the last 6 weeks, and instead of being a train headed to New York this Saturday I am getting glimpse of myself in a car heading to school. And maybe my anxiety stems from these two alternating paths.

I like living near my mom, I hate that we went 7 months without seeing each other. I like my bed, and my room, and the desk I painted last summer. But then I like my independence, I like living near a city, I love the experience I am gaining, and the steps that are leading me closer to the life I want. I love too many things and I hate having to sacrifice one for the other even though it what one has to do. Becoming an adult sucks hard core.

In less than a week I will be on a train bound for Penn Station. It's funny, at the beginning of this 6 week stay the days use to drag by. But the closer it gets to Saturday the faster the days seem to go, and of course I am trying with all my might to hang on to the minutes before they are completely gone.

I don't know when (or if) this growing older thing becomes easier. So far, it's a painful transition from the safety of my youth to the uncertainty of adulthood.