There’s a term used to describe the end of a sitcom episode: New Stability. It’s when the episode’s craziness has been resolved, and the main character(s) now have to adapt to some new way of thinking or a circumstance they encountered throughout the course of the show. Since I like to think of my life as a long running successful TV comedy, I have entered the stage of new stability.
After feeling like I was about to turn to a life of crime, a car accident (yes, I’m car – less right now), and a million job applications later, I finally landed a full time job. Please hold your applause. It isn’t the dream TV job I’ve been hoping for. It’s just a job. A holding place if you will. When I realized I couldn’t live a moment longer without a steady paycheck, I decided I just needed a job, any job. And that’s what I got. I’m going to be a receptionist at a veteran women’s shoe company. As glamorous and exciting as that sounds, I’ll just be answering the phones. However, there are some perks to my new gig: there is a lot of down time, and I was encouraged by the hiring managers to bring my writing in to work on. I will also be surrounded by every woman’s kryptonite: shoes. Lots and lots of shoes.
So as bland and generic as this post sounds, it’s not that bad. I will be returning to a maximum overload schedule by working 7 days a week (weekends at the restaurant) to support myself and my bill collectors. At least I’ll
be forced have time to sit at a desk all day and write that pilot I’ve been trying to write for the last year or so. Even though it may be the end of the season, it’s not the end of the series.
Who knows what season 2 has in store…I imagine it involves new shoes.
I’m at that point where I’m seriously considering doing something illegal to make money-prostitution, selling drugs, or stealing some rare expensive artwork a la Oceans 11-13.
I’d prefer the latter; it just seems cooler and less traumatizing. Anyway I’ve been MIA for the past week or so trying to figure out life, and I still don’t get it. I had two interviews with an awesome, well known, creative production/photography studio; however, I became over booked over at my favorite reoccurring gig and had to reschedule my final interview for the position. I rescheduled it with the hopes that I would still be in the running to be America’s Next Top Studio Coordinator.
Alas, they emailed before my interview and told me they went with someone else. I was crushed. I almost cried, but I remembered I’m a thug. Thugs don’t cry. Especially not on Fridays. I immediately went into stealth job applicant mode and applied to any and everything on Craigslist. Except to the egg donation listings only because I don’t meet the age requirements. If only I was this desperate between the ages of 20-29.
So here I am, wondering how it will all work out. I didn’t get that position for a reason, duh. I just don’t know what that reason is, and it will continue to escape me until I land that massive dream job that crushes all my previous potential/almost jobs. That’s the thing about the Universe, it doesn’t make sense to us mere mortals. I guess that’s where that whole faith and believing in yourself thing comes into play. *Long exasperated sigh* While I try to make sense of it all, I’m assembling a con artist team , Ocean’s 13 1/2. Please contact my burner flip phone if you would like to join.