So I’m pretty sure I might have bombed my first interview. It was on President’s Day, and the trains were running on a Saturday schedule (I am just starting to learn exactly what that means)– so waiting for the A was murder. Also I didn’t know whether I was heading up or downtown. Needless to say, I ran late. I called the production company I was interviewing at as soon as I left the Spring St. station while running down Avenue of the Americas in heels, and pushing people out of my way.

I just get the feeling he (the interviewer) wasn’t that into me. And the wages they were offering are obscenely low– for New York. In Colorado, it would be somewhat of a decent wage for entry-level work. I called him out on it– which probably is another strike on my half. Ugh. I got out of the building, and started chainsmoking immediately afterwards.

Since then I’ve been eating my feelings, and sleeping, and feeling sorry for myself. Well I did the first day after.  I haven’t had an actual interview in about 2 years. Since then I’ve been getting back into a somewhat productive groove. I set up an appointment with my first temp agency on Friday; I have accounts on Monster, Careerbuiler, and LinkedIn; I scour the New York Times and Craigslist classifieds– so here’s hoping.

Also– I’ve been slowly trying to transform this apartment into a home. I assembled a bookcase,  two shoe racks, and curtains last night, while the night before I installed a curtain rod, and magazine rack for the bathroom. It’s coming together. I’m just happy that I have a modicum of privacy now. And that there are no more newspaper clippings taped to my windows anymore.

Now to begin the rest of my day! I’ll start with a shower, a cup of coffee and a cigarette on the fire escape. How about you?


I’m just one guitar shy of playing “Moon River” out here.