Can It Be?

I've made it to Friday again. Sorry about the lack of posts but I have no idea where the days are going or why they are blending into one another. By this point I can only conclude that the Nonion internship is a bust. It's been two weeks, and I am no longer naive in regards to these internship things. When I applied for an internship almost a year ago I waited for what seemed like a month (most likely three weeks) for the editor to get back to me. Eventually I ended up just emailing the editor and inquiring about the position. What I've learned from that experience is that a) I will not wait anxiously about an internship for longer than 2 weeks and b) if the interviewee doesn't email or call me back in a fashionable manner than the hell with them.

It would have been incredibly cool to work at the Nonion, not always for the right reasons though. It was located in Soho, everyone was really young and I was hoping to make some friends. That's the part that really made me want it so bad. But whatever, I haven't let it get me down. Sir Maxwell Frey just did not see me as good candidate and if you would have been with me on the interview, you would have thought so too. I won't email him back, I won't inquire and sulk, I've decided to move on and look for something else.

Of course this week has been hectic and crazy. Monday I had a day off, which I spent at the library getting books and DVD's (Damages starring Glenn Close is the shit) and then it has been nonstop work from then, including my nice 12-8 shift today. The bookstore and the internship are killing me. I am so done putting away resort and sitting at a desk for 7 1/2 hours. While I haven't quit my internship yet I still feel like doing so every Tuesday and Thursday. Though I am still at the bookstore I still feel like quitting every Monday-Sunday. I love some of my co-workers but I have outgrown my time there.

I am applying to something HUGE. So Huge I can't even go into too much detail about it. The application is a series of questions along with some storytelling from my end. Though it isn't due until October the 1st (which is not that far away) I want to have it sent off and postmarked by Monday. No later than Monday. Getting this would be amazing, and would help me out financially, creatively, and yadda yadda yadda. It's a paid internship located in the city and the praying begins now that this works out. I am putting my all in to it. Hence the lack of posts this week.

The craziness is almost dying down though. Hopefully I will have a moment to breathe in the next few days. Anyway, time to work on application before I have to head to the bookstore.

The Smoothest Way is Sometimes Full of Stones

I am reading the most beautiful collection of short stories ever by Julie Orringer called How to Breathe Underwater. I have never read anything that has so captured the essence of being a girl in all of it's pain and discomfort. I have never read anything that has so lyrically captured what it's like to be a girl on the edge of adulthood, love, disappointment, sexuality, and independence.

I have had the book for about a week, untouched and laying on the floor. I mainly picked up it because the cover is a beautiful photograph which reminded me of some time from my youth that I never really had. A time when I felt like things were endless and I was free and uninhibited. Needless to say there is a reason why I checked this book out of the library, I have spent the last nights reading it in the dark, with my book light on and slight nods as every sentiment I have ever felt appears in the collection.

This week been incredibly hard. I still hate my internship in Connecticut. The lady is still bat shit crazy and I dread when she comes into the office with some half thought out thing for Bethany or I to do. I am also still incredibly broke. I mean I have money in my account but not the nice cushion of spending money I am use to. It doesn't help that the cable is out at my aunt's house (because she didn't and probably won't pay it) so I have been buying TV DVD's in order to have something to watch.

I have not and probably will not hear back from the Nonion. I have no one to blame but myself. I was incredibly awkward during the interview and my awesomeness may not have come off as much as I wanted to. At first I wanted to curse out the Maxwell fellow, for not being able to see the wicked awesome intern under the girl full of nerves. But then I figured he is only doing his job. Then I wanted to curse out god, because I spent the whole week praying to him and for what...but that seemed pointless.

Instead I spent a few days cursing myself out and sulking. I am very good at this sulking thing. I feel like I am in the same place I was in last year except t now I have the internship I so desperately fought for and no longer desire. I am still at the bookstore, I am still at my aunt's house (where I don't even have a bed anymore, just a couch) and I am still very very broke. Though I did buy Season One of Curb Your Enthusiasm. I may be broke but I will always have Larry David.

I cannot stop comparing myself to other people my age. Do you know I went to high school with one of the girls from this seasons Project Runway. Yeah, Carol Hannah. Of course I began hating on her immediately. Why the f*ck am I not on Project Runway (I know i don't design clothing but this is irrational jealous me talking), why am I not pursuing my passion hardcore, why isn't Tim Gunn here to console me. Why do I feel like I am getting nowhere, and quick. Why is the girl from my history class (who moved up here, and whose dumb fun pictures on facebook keep popping up on my home page) living the life I want. With her real people job and her real people friends while I can only claim my sullenness as a past time.

And of course after all that sulking and crying silently to myself, I have to go back and continue to exist and hope that things will get better. That it has to right? I'm hoping that this week is a lot better, I have some more stuff to apply to and sleep to be had. Of course before I close my eyes I will flip through another story in Orringers book and remember how difficult it is just to be, and exist, and prosper when your are just on the brink of some truth larger than yourself.

Lucky Day? 09-09-09

No word from the internship yet. But today is suppose to be lucky right? Today is suppose to be the day where good karma injects itself it to the air. Today is suppose to be the day...someone's day where things work out.

Please, please, please...

Who's That Girl...

Yesterday was an incredibly off day. Some days you wake up and you know that shit is going to hit the fan. You know that things will happen to you that makes you wish you decided to stay home or you called out sick for work. Recently I have been having a string of these off days. Nothing incredibly bad happens but I am filled with thoughts that make me very sour and displeased with my current situation.



When went home for 6 weeks I was frightened that I would return to New York and everything would be completely different. I was worried that some of the familiar faces at work would be replaced by new ones, I was concerned that I would have to rebuild relationships with old pals and I was worried that I wouldn't be able to get back into the swing of things smoothly. Of course a lot of these things have happened. My favorite manager is leaving, a couple of new gals were hired, and I am readjusting to work again...but other than that everything else is the same. I have gotten over the new changes quickly, a lot quicker than I thought I would.



Instead of being overwhelmed by some of the little changes, I am more frustrated by the lack of them. I hate that I after a year here I am still the Bookstore girl, I hate that I still have to convince people that I am employable or that I would make a wicked awesome intern at that some faux newspaper organization. It's bananas! I know life is about continually learning, growing, developing yadda yadda yadda..but I feel like as of right now I have proven myself worthy of something and yet I continue to help dumb customers while being patronized for working retail.



After a year of working at the bookstore I am a face customers are use to seeing. People ask me for help by my first name now (which annoys me to no end) and people seek me out specifically for assistance. I am an old face at an old place and it is driving me crazy. Yes i know that this will not be my job forever, yes I know that I am a big fish in a small pond but I cannot help taking out my frustration on unsuspecting customers who think it is cute to mention how awesome it is that I work at a bookstore.



Yesterday was no different. I pulled in an early shift (from 9-5) and was annoyed by the fact that I was there. The customers annoyed me, the store itself annoyed me, and most all I was annoyed by myself because I am doing as much as I can to make things better and yet this is all I have to show for it. And suddenly as I was answering my favorite of bookstore questions (where is the nonfiction section) I realized what it was...I am the change I was afraid of. I left for 6 weeks, came back, and suddenly I realize that I have no desire to be in this same spot again.



I have outgrown my current situation and I am eager to move on. Very eager. So eager that I have become antsy and cranky with a pinch of sullen dissatisfaction. When you work in retail everyone looks at you as if this job is the highlight of your career. That you spend your every waking day at the store because you have nothing else going on. Or maybe this is what I think they think of me. I just hate when someone my age comes into the store wearing nice business attire and talking about their exhausting day at work and then I look down at my semi casual clothes and book in hand to only realize that I don't want to be doing this anymore.

I won't know about this internship until Wednesday but it doesn't mean I haven't been freaking out about it ever since the interview. Once again I am on the fringe of something big and my fate is the hands of someone else. I don't think I made a stellar impression last week. The guy who interviewed me is literally 3 years older than I am. Because of this I was a lot more casual during this interview than I usually am. I figured personality would be a huge benefit so I banked on being approachable and friendly. But when it came to answering some of the questions he asked, I fumbled around with them. For someone that young I wasn't expecting him to ask the 'where do you see yourself in 5-10 years" question. It's a text book interview question but for some reason I still find it hard to answer.

In all honesty in 10 years I just don't want to be that girl....that girl working at the bookstore, that girl sleeping on her aunt's couch, that girl trying to finish some novel she isn't sure people want to read. I want to be the girl who is doing something she loves, with the people she loves, in a world where my creativity and imagination can run loose. Be it ten years from now or one week from now. But people don't buy that as a good enough answer and now I just have to wait and hope it was good enough for him and his faux news.

Wanna Know A Secret?

Sometimes I wish I was someone else. Sometimes I wish this life wasn't mine. Sometimes I am convinced that everyone else's life is so much better than mine. Sometimes I wish it all made sense to me.

Are you Funny, or just Funny Looking

Yesterday I went to the most amazing place in the whole entire world. Seriously. On Broadway there is an office located on the 10th floor of a building in Soho. I mean right in Soho. Right in the heart of the place. Where I was going (for the interview) is actually right across the street from where I had my roof top luncheon with the editor for a children's publishing company. Except this time I didn't have to bring my aunt with me because I knew the way. This time I knew exactly where I was going, where the closest pizza place was, and where I could sit for a while until my interview time.

I have not been back to the city since I stepped off the train a few weeks ago. And seriously, whenever you think this place sucks, whenever you are just about to jump of the figurative edge, just being in the city pulls you back. Seeing the tall buildings, and being surrounded by faces (local and non local) gives you some sense that you are alive. That people are literally two heart beats away from being completely the same, and that is when all your angst falls away. It did for me anyway.

I had a very important interview yesterday, for a newspaper that is very popular in the north east. It isn't your normal sort of news though, it's news served up with a pinch of college humor and a crapload of BS, but people love it. Got to love the funnies. I vaguely heard about them in school, but only passing and when I wasn't paying attention to care about a 'not real' newspaper. When I started listening to This American Life, there was a piece on [them] which I thought was pretty funny and ever since then I've go to the website every once in a while to check out the funny though faux news.

That is all I am allowed to say, or all I want to say because I don't want to get my hopes up. The place was filled with people my age, wearing converse shoes and walking around with Mac computers. There was so much going on that i got caught up in the actors sitting next to me rehearsing their lines and the guys down the loft reading each others work and laughing. I felt out of place not because I really was, but because for the last two weeks I have been in an office with 2 middle aged women discussing why chest hair on the cover of romance novels is forbidden.

The moment I stepped off the elevator and was greeted by the receptionist who looked like Pam from The Office (which I don't think was a coincidence when they hired her) I knew I wanted to be there. I wanted to be in that loft with these people doing whatever the hell they were doing. But I am not really confident about the interview. I stumbled on the questions, didn't fully understand what my role would be and I kept swiveling in the swivel chair (don't do interviews in swivel chairs) but I made the interviewer laugh (he was seriously like 2 years older than me) and I tried to give off a "I'm a comfortable, fun, reliable person to be around. Have me as your intern please"

The interview did not last long. I walked out not so confidant that they would ever allow me to have such a cool internship with boys wearing glasses and girls in ballerina shoes. Of course, afterwards, when I was on the train home I couldn't help but feel as if I had blown the whole thing. What I wouldn't do to have this internship. What I wouldn't do to go there every week and be apart of a creative team. He said he would let me know next week, but I can't help but feel that I have just let the greatest thing to come my way (in a few months) slip out of my hand. I can't help but feel as if the place I want so desperately to belong to has no place for me.

I did make him laugh though. That has to say something about how awesome I am. I'm going to need a lot of finger crossing to land this one folks. Feel free to send some good vibes my way.

What Betrayl

I have an interview tomorrow. It's a production gig for a pretty popular newspaper (and network) that all the hip cool kids read and talk about. It's just another internship, I know, but I am super nervous. I have no idea what to wear, I have no idea what to ask the guy I have my interview with tomorrow, and I am nervous as shit.

Why can't I get myself together.

Why?

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.

Post Grad-The Movie.

So a couple of weeks I saw the trailer for the movie Post Grad starring Gilmore Girls Alum Alexis Bledel. Needless to say, three minutes later I was mortified by the concept of this movie and a little embarrassed that someone in Hollywood thought they could capture post grad life so eloquently with the help from Alexis Bledel. Let me explain where this anger comes from.

As a post grad person, there is no movie or book that has yet to captured (for me) the essence of having no idea what to do with your life after graduating college. The movie that has come the closet to capturing the quarter-life crisis is Reality Bites, but I was eight when the movie came out and had no idea what I had in store for me. And even now watching something and living something are to different things.

So when I saw these cheesetastic trailer with Alexis Bledel playing a college grad who moves back in with her parents while she dissects what to do with her new life now...I almost gagged. I mean literally. First, because Rory Gilmore-excuse me-Alexis Bledel is not a convincing lead. I mean, I don't know the chick but she seems like she could land something. Modeling, being pretty, dating co-stars...I don't know I'm just saying. Secondly, Michael Keaton is her dad (in the movie) and Batmans daughter doesn't have post grad problems.

In all honesty, what irks me the most about this movie is I already the ending will be a 'feel good, everything works out declaration for perseverance through the storm' BS. Here you have an above average looking female, with Batman as her dad, two love interests (including Rodrigo Santoro who is the furthest thing from an average looking guy), searching for stable things to make something meaningful out of her life. But by doing that, the movie will not depict the depression, anxiety, and general lowness that Hollywood rarely captures. And it's not because they can't, it's because people don't want to see that. People want to see things begin badly and then work themselves out with a few small (and cute) bumps along the way.

I know, I am being a tad bit harsh on this movie. I should take it for what it is, a nice pick me upper...but the truth is I couldn't watch a movie that says "this is your life, this is your life Hollywood style. Don't you wish it was this simple" because at the end of the day after I watch Alexis Bledel land her dream job, dream boyfriend, and dream life with her Batman dad in tow (because I believe Michael Keaton can make anything right. seriously), I will still be be going through my own post grad life with a suck ass job, old creepy dudes who hit on me, and a undecided life sans Michael Keaton.

Marie and I talk about our post grad lives all the time, and I realize that we are experiencing quarter life crisis hard core. We have tendency to talk about the past (a lot) and what we would change to make our present lives easier. I have a tendency to fret over what kind of career I want and how I get to achieving that,while Marie hopes that going to work and coming home aren't going to be the highlight of her life.

I don't know if there is a moment when you know you are on the right path. When you know that you are okay with the life you have created for yourself. For someone who has suffered with anxiety her whole life, I don't think there will ever be that moment where I am like "yep, this is exactly where I wanted to be, when I wanted to be there, with the people I've wanted to be with". If this moment does occur, then this quarter life crisis is worth it, if at the end of it's run I am content with my life, even though I hate that word.

Until then I will skip out on seeing this movie. I find it more depressing than uplifting, because it will lack the despair of post grad life the way I'd like to see it.

In other news, the editor emailed me back and I am a go for this internship. I do not know why I feel that having a publishing internship on my resume will be a good thing, especially since I don't know if I want a career in publishing but it's only for 3 months, and at this point any experience is better than none. I have said this a million but I do lean towards magazine and production jobs. Marie thinks I should email Lenny and ask if I can intern with him again. I think she really wants me to get in touch with Adam again, who of course is there IT guy. I think having more than one production experience on my resume is better than just interning with them but I will in the future ask him if he knows of anyone who is looking for a stellar research gal.

We'll see, first things first I guess.

The Result of my Mishaps

So I have my computer back. Again.

This is the 2nd time in the span of 6 weeks that my computer has gone to Geek Squad. Unfortunately this time I did not have a warranty (even though I am not sure it covers viruses) and I had to hand over 200 dollars for my computer. Along with the nice fee, the geek squad dude wanted to give me some suggestions. First, I need to install some virus protection on my computer. I have not had a proper one since college hence the infection. Secondly, I should think of expanding the memory on my computer. It will make it run a lot faster. This was not a bad bit of advice but after spending 200 bucks, minutes earlier, I was in no mood for recommendations, even though I did end up buying a virus protection software.

I hope nothing else happens to my computer. I am sans warranty, and sans money to purchase a new computer or to keep getting this one fixed every time I do something stupid to it.

Anyway, In less than 2 weeks I will be in New York again. The nerves are killing me and I am excited though apprehensive about returning. Excited because I hope the next couple of months will lead to a real job, a real apartment, and maybe some resemblance of a real life. Apprehensive because until all of those things happen, I am returning to my bookstore job and my aunt. The aunt thing is not so bad (free rent) but I just found out that one of my favorite managers at the bookstore is leaving in September. There are only 2 cool managers, and without her we now only have one.

This only makes it more evident that I need to get out of the bookstore. After a year I am still there, selling people The Secret twenty times over. I am hoping that this internship will make me a successful candidate for entry level job. I wanted to email the editor last week to remind her about the internship and to give her the date that I am available to start. But with the computer incident and sheer laziness I waited until today. I hope that she has not forgotten about me, or decided to give someone else the position...just because. My email was very polite yet direct.

I am banking on this experience to catapult me into an editorial assistant position. I know. It's pretty lame that right now that is the gold at the end of my rainbow. I kept telling myself that I don't even know if book publishing is for me. It seems a little rigid and static. I lean towards magazine publishing and even production because I'll b able to write, but I need to get my start somewhere and right now this is the most logical point to start from.

I hate talking about boring stuff like this but unfortunately it is my number one concern. I am so freaked out about making the wrong decision for my life. Like what happens if I go down this road only to realize that it sucks hard core, and now I have to back track a few miles (or years) just to make it all right. Yes, this is what goes through my head...everyday. It's almost manic.

It's even worse because i have given myself a time line. A year at the bookstore was okay, but another year is just not possible. A year at my aunts has been helpful but a place of my own (where i can cook) is just necessary now. I need to have my stuff together by December. A real job would be nice, a studio would be reasonable and by December I hope to at least have those two things even if by the end of all that i decided to bum it all away for something more extraordinary. I should have been a rockstar. They have the life.

It sucks that all those seemingly easy wants, for now, are so hard to attain. They literally seem out of reach, even though I know 'it' is right there.

Damn.

Anyway, I am going to enjoy my computer today. Maybe a little sims here, Peru story there, and youtube. Not entirely productive, I know, but still...

Infected

I gave my computer a virus. It is a very long (and quite stupid) story that I am too embarrassed to write about right now. Lets just say I tried to watch old episodes of my favorite TV show online. Too bad the site I could upload said show on is a piece of shit. Needless to say, I immediately brought my computer to best buy because I kept getting a "You Are Infected" pop up every 2 minutes.

The dude kept asking me questions like "do you download music" "Do you download movies" "Do you download..." I think he was going to say porn but then figured that is something I wouldn't do. I told him I was trying to watch Tales From the Crypt (seriously. It's lame I know) on some site that I guess wasn't as secure as I thought it was.

He said that I probably got the bug from said site and that he could fix it. For $200!!!!!!! My computer is once again at best buy for the next week. I am beginning to think I am not as good of a computer owner as I thought. So along with forking over $200, I may have to buy software to protect my computer from this happening again, even though I could have sworn I had Norton or something on her.

All in all I will be dishing out at least $250, that's enough money to buy all the seasons of Tales from the Crypt.

You can't see it from your end, but there is a huge frown on my face. Huge!

I'd Like You to Meet Someone

Her name is Celeste, and she is the protagonist of my first real novel. I think.

Back in May I had this insane idea to write a story about a couple in Peru. I was inspired by some pictures on Flickr of this female photographer and her photographer boyfriend who do freelance work all over the world. Their images are amazing, uniquely intimate and bare. Suddenly I struck with an image of Peru and a girl named Celeste and this relationship she has with this "sometimes, not really, all the time" boyfriend. The novel begins immediately with the death of a mutual friend who Celeste and said boyfriend have independently shared a history with. But the day after his death, the two board a plane to Peru, on to another job, wondering whats next, not particularly for them, but just in general.

I told Marie about this and she thought I was crazy. One, I cannot write a story about a place I've never been too. Two, that's not really much of a story. Where's the plot and where's the action. What's the point? And at first I thought she was right. So I shelved the story, I mean I don't want to misrepresent a country because I've never been to it, and I figured I should at least make a trip to said country before I decide to write a story about it.

But for some reason, during the few times I do sit down to write, I always come back to this story, I always return to Celeste and her life. And I can't stop trying to create a history for her in order to direct her and her actions. So though I have omitted any clear Peru references I am writing this story. Or at least trying to.

It's very difficult writing a story. Yesterday I was on Youtube (again) and during a random search I saw a video of some dude who looked just like my hot but very boring creative nonfiction professor. You know, Mr. McDreamyButRatherDull. Of course it wasn't him but because I was now had the memory of him in my head, I typed his name in the search bar and holy mother of crap, 2 seconds later there is actually a video of him giving a lecture on his first novel which was published a couple of weeks ago. Of course I clicked the link and watched with mild interest as my ex-professor read a couple of pages from his novel and then gave an interview about the writing process.

Even though I am not really into his writing, he was the golden boy at our university. He has won numerous awards for poetry and fiction and the last award he won lead to the publication of his novel by my schools publishing house. I couldn't watch the whole interview because he is REALLY boring but apparently he is now teaching at another school where he is getting his PHD.

I couldn't help but feel a tinge of "WTF?!" I feel like I have all the potential to be a writer but I have no idea how to channel that potential. I enjoy writing but I get so lost, and then mad, and then just tired. I still have no idea if I should apply to graduate school even though it is apparent that I need it. Or at least need a workshop or something. I wish I could post the link of his interview on here (he is still very cute but as dry as ever). I might, even though I am protective over where I went to school and live. I know I'm very weird.

Needless to say, as soon as I saw him I wanted to write. And because I am sort of stuck on Celeste, I keep writing this story. I am interested about who she is, why she is, and who she will become. But I feel I (the writer) am getting in the way of her story, I, who am very self conscious about my words am not allowing her to guide me. I don't know how to separate her from myself and for this reason I am struggling to find her voice.

Breathe. Relax. Breathe.

In other news, Marie called me all day Saturday and Sunday. It became very annoying after the 10th call. She finally got a rental car, until they can figure out what to do with hers, but she needed someone to entertain her during her all day wait for enterprise to deliver the rental. During the 8th phone conversation we talked about traveling again. I seriously am getting sick of talking about traveling and then going nowhere. I brought this up again to Marie who of course said she was too busy with her job to travel but that as soon as I got an apartment in New York she would visit me. That doesn't make any sense. Her visiting me in New York is not traveling. That's her coming to where I live, visiting, and then me just showing her the sights I've already seen. So even though she will be able to add Big Apple on her list of places she has been, I will have added nothing. I am determined to travel somewhere. I am starting a fund which currently only has 5 dollars in it, but I am desperate. This makes no sense to me why at 23 I've only been up and down the east coast.

I guess I should save up for a trip to Peru. Would make sense, even though I may have no one to take with me. Damn.

Time to write.

The Cartoonish Life of My Friend

Your eyes are not fooling you. That is a tree on a car. Not any car. Marie's Car. Last night I was slaying zombies on the Wii, and I got a random call from her. Of course I did not answer the phone because killing zombies is a hard job, and I did not want to pause the game right as I was slaughtering those flesh eating bastards. I'm just saying. I know I'm a horrible friend. After I quit the game, I decided to check the message she left me on my phone.

Marie and I are very consistent with our phone conversations. We usually talk to each other around 5 o'clock and when I was in New York around 11pm, because I didn't like walking home alone. I figure that, hopefully, no one will attack someone on the phone. I mean muggers can't be that desperate that they attack someone who could identify them over the phone to however they are talking to. So far, this has worked. I feel safer at night having someone on the phone with me, it's the closest thing I have to mace.

Anyway, getting her call yesterday around 7 was odd, and the fact that she left a message was a little weird. When I checked her message all I could hear was "car.clipped.lady". I immediately called her back because....we'll even though she annoys me, getting in a car accident is not fun. Especially when you don't have anyone near you to make it a little better. So when I called her the first words out of my mouth were "you got hit by a car". Her first words back to me were "no, a fucking tree"

I wish I was making this up. According to Marie she was sitting in her apartment the other day reading a book. It was too stormy outside to do anything and she pretty much spends her time reading books anyway. She could hear the thunder outside and could see the flick of lightening from her window. The next then she heard was a big bang and then the splintering of wood, followed by 'the loudest noise in the world". Of course this was the sound of the tree crashing on her car. At first she didn't think anything of it, until she remembered that her car is parked near a tree, in fact her car is the only car near any tree in that neighborhood.

When she got outside....well you see the picture

Her car is totaled. The tree made a nice little home right on top of it. I thought this only happened in cartoons or during those Allstate commercials. At first I was concerned (because once again car accidents suck!) but then I couldn't stop laughing. Really, who does this happen to. When does a tree strike lightening during a not so major thunderstorm and land perfectly on your car. In front of your house. As you are reading a trashy romance novel about throbbing members.

Her insurance company (Allstate maybe?) covers this sort of thing and for the next few weeks she will be driving a rental until they access the damage. Or until they take two looks at the car and realise it is beyond repair.

Beyond.

She got this car as a college graduation present from her mom. The car is about 5 years old, cause I remember her mom let us take this baby to prom. We both did not have dates the night, because I was too afraid to ask anyone and we were certain no one was going to either one of us. No one expected her to go anyway, and because of this she went. I decided to be her 'friend date' because what else did I have to do. We got all dolled for this thing, only to both look like mafia princesses that Saturday. This was before I knew black does not look good on me (at all!) and before she knew bouffants are not attractive. On anyone. We got there extremely early. That kind of early when only the chaperone's were there. My history teacher was the first one to see us and I couldn't tell if he was shocked that we showed up at all or that we looked like girls from a mobster movie.

We stayed for about 15 minutes. Which was enough time to see our 'friends' from the media club and drink some weird beverage that was green. Afterwards we drove around town, got burritos from a place 45 minutes outside of our city, and then went to Walmart because she ended up staying the night at my house but we she didn't have any pj's to wear.


That was pretty much our life in high school, attending events we felt isolated from, and then escaping from them to hang out with each other. Thinking on it now, I think the tree did her a favor. We are so different from those girls laying out in my living room watching a rerun of Medium while the cats kept us company. That car was/is the last physical thing from her (and my) high school years, and now it is weighed down to the ground by a tree in her front yard. Now if only that tree could destroy the pictures we have of that night. They are horrible, trust me.

A Little Bit of GQ

How could I forget the 15th of July (or of any 15th of the month for that matter of fact)? The 15th is usually when a new issue of GQ comes out. Needless to say, my vacation is distorting time and days and I was very shocked to see the new issue out (with Channing Tatum on the cover, but for the sake of this journal I decided against a shirtless picture of him) while I was at the supermarket. All is right with the world now. All is right.

The free wireless has come back and for now I am using it until the cable guy comes tomorrow to install ours. I know I have only 3 weeks left but I've been without the Internet for so long that I would rather continue to still someones wifi then wait an extra day. I am very addicted to this thing. Though I have the Internet for a while, I am pretty much going to spend the rest of the night reading my GQ magazine. I do this every month and find solace in the arms of fashion and entertainment layouts.

It's going to be very weird going back to New York because if all works out I will be able to actively look for an "adult" job by November. Marie holds the fact that I do not have, what she calls, an "adult job" this against me. Every time we are on the phone she manages to throw in a snide remark about my job situation. Sometimes she is downright rude about it. She has rubbed it in my face several times that she makes more money than I do and that while I flounder around at my "high school age" job she has a real one, where she makes a salary instead of a hourly wage. I know, I don't know why I am still friends with her.

I don't take it to heart, because...it's Marie, and a phone conversation without some conversation like that would be unusual. I do love my job at the bookstore, but I don't (and can't) work there forever. In all honesty I don't even know if book publishing is my thing, but I at least need some entry level job for the experience if not the longevity.

I go back and forth about what I want to do. Sometimes I want to be in production other times I want to work in Magazine. And sometimes I want to be a freelance writer with a photo journalist boyfriend who I can travel the world with documenting what we see together on our magical adventure. He can be the eyes while I am the words for the stories we decide to tell. But for now that is a secret passion of mine that is hidden by the reality of my life.

Though this vacation was suppose to be my own personal writing seminar of sorts, I have yet to do anything that resembles writing. I don't know what it is. I need guidance and focus and because I lack those two things I just stare at a blank screen for half the day or worse I don't stare at all. I busy myself with movies and books and then before you know it is 11pm and I am watching another episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm. It's a pretty sad state because I really want to pursue a writing career but that sort of requires writing and for some reason my head can't get around it. I don't know what I am doing with myself and it is driving me crazy.

On the reading level I have made a dent in Rules of Attraction by Bret Ellis, and though it is not my favorite novel by him, I do like it. My college experience did not resembled his version at all, but you know...I guess it does somewhere. I am also reading this book called Rebecca. It's really old school but the plot sounded dramatic enough to stir my interest. I am hoping that by reading all of these books I will be able to recognize the style of writing that I am drawn too and then be able to write. So far, not so good. I just end of comparing myself to said writer and wondering why I can't pen a novel at 23 like Bret Easton Ellis did (at 21, I think).

I'm starting to feel washed up, even before I made a literary dent somewhere. Must get myself out of this rut. Must get myself out of this rut. Must.

Connection Problems

I use wireless at home. Not my own wireless of course because I am the only one in the house with a computer. The desktop barely works, and my mom really has no use for a computer. Not now anyway.

When I use to come home from college I would just connect to the available wireless listed on my preferred network list. It didn't (and doesn't) matter whose it was as long as I had access to it. But on Friday I woke up with the intention of checking my mail like I always do but this time there were no open networks. Not even the one I have always used. Bummer. We are now getting wireless installed in the house but I have to wait until Friday to get it. Until then I am stuck using Dial-Up. There was a time when waiting 5 minutes for a page to load was normal, now it's just wrong. So very wrong.

My vacation is winding down. I like being home but I am ready to get back to my life. Here there is a false sense of security because I am home all day with my motherly mother and my flawed but entertaining brother. I don't have to worry about anything because it is all provided for me. But I really want a job, a job job, not a fun bookstore job. If the editor still wants me, I have an internship in a few weeks with an actual big league publishing house. It's only for 3 months but I know after that i can actively look for a job in publishing (or production) without my inexperience getting in the way.

My aunt has agreed to let me stay with her for a few more months. So this means that I will be juggling my bookstore job with an internship. If I'm lucky I'll get one day off a week. Fun times, I know. But this is what I want. It took me so long just to get here, so I feel like I am on the right path. I just have to remain on it, you know. So i will be booking another ticket to return to New York in a few weeks. I still fear that when I get there everything will have changed while I was gone for 6 weeks, and that I have to start over again. But that is just me being paranoid.

Dial-Up is driving me crazy. I was doing so well, until this crap happened. I want to write all about Marie's visit and the luncheon we didn't go on with our old librarian. But I'll have to wait.

Until Then,

Becks