So I got this job. I mean, a job. A real one.
Two weeks ago I decided to get off my ass and start looking for something because although the nailbiting anticipation and instability of temping was invigorating, my ulcers were starting to act up.
And, as we’ve discussed, $7 an hour doesn’t support my music habit.
So I sent out 12 resumes. Monday I got a call, Tuesday an interview, Wednesday a second, Thursday I was hired and I started on Friday. It’s been a whirlwind of madness, and here it is Monday and already I’m starting week two of my employment at Harvard.
Oh, Harvard. Ask, and ye shall receive. Can I just tell you? I have a seven minute commute and I get to spend my lunch hour wandering the square or writing or watching the punks in the Pit. It’s been good fun.
I won’t go into the details of my job, but I’m basically helping professors get money from non-profits and philanthropists to do research in their field. It’s a job that I feel good about. The weirdest thing is that there’s no irony. My whole employed life there’s been a tinge of “you don’t really know who I am” running underneath the current of whatever position I held. The ridiculousness of it came to fever pitch while temping at the investment firm. I just don’t care about making money. I like to have enough of it to live in Somerville, and feed myself, and go to a show or two a week. But I just don’t have that bloodthirsty drive for biggerbetterfastermore. I don’t give a shit what you think about my car, or the plaster peeling off my walls, or the fact that I bring a bagged lunch, or that my skirt is wrinkled because if I ironed it this morning I wouldn’t have had time to write.
So at this job, I can be myself. When they interviewed me, I was devastatingly honest. I felt like I owed it to myself to not have another ironic job. They asked why I left my last job. I told them marketing was sucking away my soul like some evil starving parasite. They asked where I saw myself in ten years. I said I had no clue. “Somewhere good.” And I actually let “work my ass off” slip out of my mouth during the interview. (I’m surprised I didn’t slip with, “work my fucking ass off.”) So they couldn’t wait to get me on board. And here I am, being myself, working my ass off, not showing up just to see what I can get away with or how sarcastic and cynical I can be.
It’s a young office. And full of unique individuals. And I’m getting my master’s degree for like $20. It’s out of control. Classes start September 15th and the writing major has some unbelievable courses. Creative Nonfiction Writing for the Arts. Hello?
So welcome to my world. Things are changing so quickly. It’s that time of year. June 21st has always been New Year’s for me, spring solstice. This week three years ago I relearned how to walk, two years ago I found God at a show, and last year I fell in love with a ghost. Happy anniversary, Blissboy. It’s been one hell of an adventure.
* * * * *
Peter the Great Dane is leaving for overseas from whence he came. His spring fling/going away party was insane. I felt like I was in an MTV video with every single guy in the room 6’5” and blond and drop-dead gorgeous with jaw lines that could slice apples. I’m moving to Denmark.
Peter asked me to cook the corn and I’m like, “how long do you leave it in for?” and he slaps the potholder on my shoulder and hands me the grabbers and says, “I don’t know – you’re the American.”
I danced with all the beautiful people – to Madonna – it was fun to forget my austere cynicism about pop music for one fleeting moment. I used to go clubbing all the time – Axis every Thursday and Friday night. Loved it. I haven’t been in a while but I miss it. Mon Frere has decided to take me to a lesbian bar on Thursday to dance. We’ll see how that goes. Maybe if I started dating chicks, the girlfriends of all my guy friends could chill the fuck out and retract their claws.
Ok it’s Monday morning. Welcome to another beautiful week in the city of Boston. Looks like it’s going to be a scorcher. I’ll keep you updated.
Save my seat.
Cut throat, cut out, candid glimpses and wind me up I’m ready.
P.S. Remind me to write about the following:
- 1. Jay Clifford at the House of Blues last week
- 2. The new Starlight Mints album (Built on Squares)
- 3. Leo Blais at the Cellar last week
- 4. The new Andrew Bird album (Weather Systems… *ache*)
- 5. Kris Delmhorst at Johnny D’s last week
- 6. The new Radiohead album (not sure why I’m going to even bother)
- 7. Jonathan Rodgers and his wine glass symphony at The Space in CT
- 8. New (old) Death Cab for Cutie album (You Can Play These Songs with Chords)