Tuesday, March 6, 2007

The plan, as loose as it was, was to work this week at The Wall Street Transcript, to apply at this temp agency that this hot man I slept with off Manhunt told me about, and to hopefully work a temp job next week and for the next several ones, saving money to hopefully go to London in late May for a trip. I had given up on applying to actual jobs, stuff labeled as careers, because I had been hoping to take a trip in a couple months and thought it would be silly to start a job I potentially cared about and then have to try to get time off right away. All boring stuff to you, I am sure, but the long and short of it is that as soon as I totally embrace this decision, telling my mom about it this afternoon, then that would be when, only an hour or so later, I would get a call for an interview tomorrow afternoon to be an editorial assistant at W.H. Freeman, working on economics textbooks.

It is what I want to be doing, just not where I want to be, but I would love to get this job, would love to have a salary and health benefits and paid vacations. My dream job has for the past couple of years been to be doing the same thing at FSG, both of which are subsidiaries of the same publisher. I have sent a couple of resumes to FSG over the past couple years, never to hear anything from them.

This phone call has thrown plans into question, made me question them, and I don't know what it is I should be doing, even what it is I want to be doing. And so I listened to Bowie at the Beeb, an album I haven't heard in years and which I love so much still, still am hit in the right spots by these live recordings in a way that studio recordings are never able to come close to. I listened to that and cleaned my room and picked out an outfit appropriate to wear to an interview, an interview which I don't even know the address of because the woman told me she was going to email it to me, and, whoops, never did so. I also bought a Mega Millions ticket tonight and there were these thoughts of $380 million thrown into the mix of already unshapely thoughts, making the questions of perhaps greater scale, asking about my life as is, what a dream life would/should be, and what it is, that constant question, that I want to be doing with myself, and whether I have both the talent and the will to be capable of doing so.

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