Also

where the hell is Maia?

Shouldn't there be

some kind of coven or commune or something that just takes in unemployed people? Like a nudist colony but with less potential for melanoma?

Maybe we should form a self-sufficient community a la "The Village."

Unpaid? Sorry, I thought you said Utter Bullsh*t!

So, I was incredibly excited this afternoon to receive a call from an unknown number.

The reasoning: it immediately precluded anyone that I know and find annoying and who I'm trying to avoid. It could only have been one of two things: the Spanish-speaking woman who phones every week to sell me nail polish (I think) OR it was a job/interview offer.

Lo and behold, the phone call was about an internship to which I'd applied a few days ago. Apparently, I just made it and they wanted to schedule a phone interview with me. I can't even begin to describe how happy I was, seriously, there were celestial beings doing the hula in my room.

Validation! Finally, acknowledgement of my few marketable abilities! Somebody likes me, they really like me! Hooray.

Never mind that it was just a phone interview, I was already envisioning tottering up Fifth Avenue with a Blackberry and a copy of the Times in my hand ...or something.

Everything was going great until the woman said the U-word.

Wait - what? Unpaid?

Who, in this day and age, offers year-long, full-time, unpaid internships? In New York, no less? Isn't there another word for that....oh yeah, slavery!

One hour later...

I am still beyond horrified, and just plain confounded by the whole thing. It's pretty disheartening when this much-touted meritocracy engineers things in such a way that the only people who can do public service internships are rich kids who wouldn't bother doing this kind of thing in the first place! Phew, deep breaths.

Perhaps this organization thinks, as Sarah suggested, that I'm an African princess with scads of money, a bejeweled sceptor, and a sufficiently elaborate wooden crown. I'm inclined to agree with her, especially after reading #105 on Stuff White People Like: http://stuffwhitepeoplelike.com/2008/07/20/104-unpaid-internships/.

Here's hoping for a brighter tomorrow, and a ruddy job. Cheers.

Really, America?

Right now I'm feeling pretty rejected by America. Or rather, corporate America, all of which is apparently conspiring to keep me out of a job. I'm kinda getting sick of trying to prove my worth through applications and cover letters. And why am I trying so hard to get a job I know I'll hate?

So, right now my feeling is to go home and restrategize! reformulate! repackage! - or lick my wounds. And lately, maybe out of necessity, that feeling has taken on symbolic dimensions. Going home - a burst towards freedom, my liberation from constricting suits and hollow handshakes. My chance to do something meaningful, and put some truth in my answer for the standard Where-do-you-see-yourself-in-five-years interview question.

My latest adventure in nappy natural hair seems a natural outlet for this desire. Y'all know I graduated wearing this shiny bouncy wig (and are quite familiar with my wig adventures during Senior week!). But as the summer wore on, and I sent out more resumes in vain, I started ditching the wig and rocking my fro more often. Now I'm born again in natural hair. I love playing with my hair, touching the kinks and the curls and learning how to take care of it. (And coz this is me, finding online communities for nappturals!) It's a part of me that I tamed into submission with relaxers and flat irons - to the point where I didn't even know what my real hair looked like. I covered it up, and braided it long - to what end? I smell symbolism!

So that's where I'm at right now. I'm feeling pretty fed up, and ripe with radicalism. Please stop me from getting a tattoo or a nose ring guys (both of which I am seriously considering). On the other hand, if I got a job, I would jump on it, because this stage of my life is still primarily driven by (the lack of) money.

The Twelve Tribes

If I wasn't already sure that I have a first-class ticket to hell when I decide to kick the bucket - my inability to recall the names of the twelve sons of Jacob (?) has bludgeoned the message home.

I don't think you lot understand what an epic tragedy/fail this is! I used to be able to sing those names, in ascending and descending order, at the drop of a hat. Sadly, in my old age, my brain has gone to seed and recalling the simplest things like the Pythagorean Theorum, Bottom's monologue in the final act of 'A Midsummer Night's Dream', the password to my yahoo email account - are beyond me.

For future reference, and the salvation of Maggie -

The tribes are:

Reuben
Simeon
Levi
Judah
Dan
Naphtali
Gad
Asher
IQ#$NGSD##$% i.e. Issacher
Zebulun
Joseph
Benjamin

...oh, and Dinah. But she doesn't matter


P.S. Next time, I propose cavorting like demonic nymphs in an actual graveyard. Since I've already got a suite on the 'hot tamale train' to purgatory - we might as well go all the way with our fun!

Detox

So today mainly involved sort of a psychological deep breath after Hurricane Maia (just kidding...but seriously, I needed to replenish with IV fluids). The visit was good though -- yay! It made me a *tiny* bit less neurotic about having no life since your move-to-NYC-and-act! thing was intimidating me, but then you seemed approximately as freaked out as I feel about this whole post-college epic fail stage of our lives, so that at least gave me confidence that I could potentially do something just as brave in the near future. Other than that, no updates from here. Except maybe that I rolled up my jeans in a truly unattractive way that I nonetheless enjoyed. It made me feel like someone who harvests cranberries or picks up their kids from soccer practice with unidentified stains on their ill-fitting, Wal-Mart brand, striped, maternity polo shirt. So yeah, I'm either declining into middle age or becoming more comfortable with my natural inclination toward nerddom...just thought you should know.

lovvvvvvvve.