Wednesday, October 28, 2009
compulsive updating must mean i'm avoiding something
...and we have a winner! can Sara Goldfarb please step forward to accept my refrigerator's medal of honor, or, wait...
basically the situation is this: my job is not terrible, because it involves a paycheck, no physical labor, and no handling of food. aside from that, i make slightly above minimum wage and work full time and am too brain-dead by the time 5:00 rolls around to do anything productive. Productive, in this case, includes stalking trains in the manner of my 90-page thesis from hell wherein i followed the N train around like a psychotic fangirl until it yielded all its secrets. So far i have only a few snippets for my 4 train dossier & the fucking Bronx isn't getting any closer, seriously. By the time i make it up there even the eerily monolithic Grand Concourse McDonalds at the 2/5 stop will be a fat smirking condo smoking a cigar & dropping the ashes on my head so that i suffocate while having blizzard fantasies. Last time i was there taking photos of the magnificently creepy ravine on the west side of the GC south of the park that looks like Dorothy's Yellow Brick Road minus the bricks [currently being sold in Washington Heights for $2k, if anyone's interested], & some guy came out of nowhere to tell me there were three enormous eagles sitting on an antenna protruding from the roof of the Catholic school across the street. out of the ?kindness? of his own heart, or perhaps hoping i'd get a better picture of his neighborhood than some unnerving cliff adorned with mangled shopping carts and mud-crusted baby clothes. unfortunately my camera zoom blows dead cats & the resulting photos show nothing aside from some nonchalant blobs but the fuckers were majestic as hell & i wouldn't have noticed if not for--you guessed it--the Kindness Of Strangers. more proof acting class in high school fucked with my head--"streetcar named desire" references crawling beneath the skin of EVERYTHING, if you look hard enough.
the point? Assisted eagle sightings > promotional fucking products any day. I'm lucky to have my job, especially since i'm perpetually late/slow/narcoleptic, but seriously where's that juicy journalism position. yes, i'm being sarcastic; no, i am not idealistic or dumb enough to think there is such a thing as a juicy [monetarily speaking at least] journalism position anywhere. i can live through the rest of the internship--it's two more months--but after this i really need the kind of job that doesn't send me screaming into a vegetable stupor every evening. spoiled brat? probably. so shoot me--i'm not going to feign contentment. i am mortally allergic to the Routine. popping out of the 4 train at Grand Central in the morning with all the other Inc. superstars on the clock is not something i want to be doing for the rest of my life.
bonus happyfuntime scheduling hilarity: tomorrow i have to get to midtown an hour early to appear in all my business-casual finery at a "marketing breakfast" at a 45th street hotel, mingling with wannabe Patrick Batemans & lamenting my lack of a business card til i sprain a smile muscle. needless to say this will be treated as a sociological study just like my appearance at a CMJ showcase last weekend. i can hardly wait to watch everyone not-eat as they worry about their performance reviews & receding hairlines. my boss was very careful to stress that we lowly interns dress up, & equally emphatic that we "don't need to wear suits." i'm wearing a fucking suit because we all know don't is the new do. & just think of the networking opportunities i'll be squandering if i don't! Plus, i have to scurry out of work at lightspeed to visit the lovely Brooklyn Municipal Building and have an intimate keyboarded dialogue with my new automated probation officer--the magnificent kiosk. i will not miss the hours spent in that waiting room at all. praise technology. and think of the networking opportunities i'll be missing THERE.