I have been in New York for a little over two weeks. Though I have no real reason to think this - I think that this week is going to be a good one. I have a feeling that something is going to work out very much in my favor. I think it will be a job. I just have this little nugget of a premonition.
This city is unbelievable. I knew that I was probably going to like it, because it's New York City and it's the most exciting city in the world. But as soon as I got here I felt like it was the right thing to do and that I belonged here. I live on the Upper East Side - which is just as bougeois as it sounds. I took a stroll down Fifth Avenue a few days after arriving here and felt very out of place amongst the ankle-length fur coatted women and fancy designer stores. Luckily I have my tiny apartment to remind me of what my actual position in this city (and this world) is.
I am so close to broke, it's getting a little frightening. My mom is sending me an early Christmas present in the form of a check, which should get here any day. And it KILLS me to have to accept money from her. I hate asking her for anything, particularly when it is a direct result of my failure to have made anything of my life thus far. So maybe that premonition is more a product of wishful thinking than anything else. Or maybe my anxiety levels had reached such a peak that I actually had nowhere to go but in to positive territory. Or, maybe it's a real, honest-to-goodness premonition and it's just on the very verge of coming true.
Food had taken on these mystical properties. It tantalizes me. I can only afford delicacies such as Spaghettios (with meatballs!), so actual food is something that totures me. I spent Thanksgiving dinner with a couple of acquaintances and their friends (an orphan Thanksgiving - because we had all stayed in the city without parents or family) and I ate until I was ill. It took me 3-4 hours to recover from that meal. I was just so excited to have that food spread in front of me and I knew that I would have anything that delectable until Christmas - if then. Also - I learned that I can whip up some pretty tasty garlic mashed potatoes.
So, I'm starving, I'm broke, I have no personal space, I'm jobless... but I'm happy. And PBS is airing a 1979 Billy Joel concert. I have some job leads to follow up on tomorrow, one of which could potentially lead me to a dream job. I've had a few tearful moments of holy-shit-what-was-I-thinking-I'm-going-to-be-unemployed-for-the-rest-of-my-life terror, but they pass quickly. After a particularly humbling interview on Thursday I cried on the subway and felt certain that I would be destined for failure in everything that I do. But I ate some cheap fast food, took a (long) nap, and have tried to keep my spirits up.
And anyway, I happen to really like Spaghettios. So it's all going to be fine.
So I'm going to curl up on this futon, let Billy Joel sing me to sleep, and hopefully wake up to a call from D.J. (dream job!) in the morning requesting that I come in for an interview. I had my phone screening on Wednesday - which I managed to make it through without sounding like a weirdo/dunce.
And I have coffee to look forward to - it's cheap stuff, but I splurged on tasty creamer. I couldn't resist.
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