If I believed in signs or fate or any of that, I may have thought the clouds ahead of the bus on the way back to Manhattan were trying to tell me something. Turns out... they didn't mean a damn thing. The past few days have been pretty awesome!
Everything is still unfolding at lightning-fast speeds, though. It's wearing me down—I ended up taking a three and a half hour nap last night because I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer. Although everything seems pretty much nonstop, it's all good stuff so far... And honestly, not to sound like a douche, but I think I deserve it.
LAST SUMMER into early 2012 included some of the worst moments of my life thus far. From losing a grandmother I barely knew—but, regrettably, wish I had known better—to breaking up with the only guy I'd ever loved, everything sucked. I was unhappy at work, I was unhappy at home... There was no getting away from it. I had to fight to get my friends' attention and found it difficult to reconnect with many of them, no matter how hard I tried. I had to get up the courage to move out on my own and learn how to take care of myself. I had to grow the eff up, basically.
And... I think I did it. I think I'm a better, stronger, more mature person today than I was at this point last year. Exactly a year ago, I was hunting for jobs in San Francisco, naively thinking Matt was serious about moving there. I was ready to part with my family and my past to cross the country with him and start over. Little did I know, two weeks later, he would break my heart into a million little pieces. It would take me more than eight months to gather those pieces and put my my heart back together. To be honest, I still don't think everything's back in its rightful place. But... that's okay. The missing pieces are within reach. I just need a bit more time to figure out where they go in the puzzle that has become my life.
I said this to Chatti today: "This is ALMOST what happy looks like." And I meant it. Everything is slowly falling into place. Everything I've wanted for so long—to work in publishing in New York, to share a space with Matt, to switch my life's course—is almost here. I can't describe how relieved I am that this is finally happening. I don't doubt for a single second that I made the right decision coming here. Sure, money will probably be tight for a while, but if I was truly concerned about money, I would've stayed in northeastern Pennsylvania and remained unfulfilled and miserable professionally.
INTERNING HAS BEEN GOOD TO ME so far. My company and the people I work with have been good to me. I'm trying really hard to earn positive feedback—and to make friends. I don't want to be one of those girls who moves to another state and only has her boyfriend as company. Matt will be working way too much to rely on socially. I need to make my own, new friends. I figured it'd be easiest to start with the people I work with since we're all around the same age and clearly have common interests. In fact, another intern and I went to lunch on Monday and it was awesome. I was at my last company for more than three years over all, and not once did I take my lunch out of the office with a coworker. We all awkwardly ate together at a long table in the conference room two or three times, but those experiences were painful. Nothing like nine women staring at each other as they eat (or don't eat, or pretend to eat), eyeing the dessert but knowing that everyone at the table will silently judge them if they reach for it.
Aside from making friends at work, I'm also learning how to navigate the city through the errands they send me on. I've taken the mail to Fed Ex and the post office with a few others three or four times now, and I know that if I start paying attention to where we're going instead of to the cart that bashes into my heels/ankles every few seconds, I'll remember where I'm going. I may get lost going back to Penn Station to catch the 1 train back to my room, but I know how to get to PS 87 on 78th Street with two cart fulls of boxed books. I know how to hail a cab (thanks for the lesson on lights, Andrew!) and I know how to get to the office where our promotional posters are printed.
I've worked on assignments ranging from reader's reviews (reading book proposals and filling out a form stating whether I believe the company should publish the book) to inserting editorial corrections into PDFs to proofreading parts of an upcoming publication. I've done this work for seven different people in the five days I've worked in the office. And I've received positive feedback from all of them. I make sure they know my name, and some of them know my story, and I want to prove to them that I would eventually be a good permanent employee. The interns received an email about an open editorial assistant position for the sports imprint today and I figured I'd show my superiors that I was interested in this future by applying. Do I really want to work with sports? Why not? I write all the athletes' bios for my old company, anyway. It's an interest of mine, even if I'm no longer active in any of them. Of course, I haven't been with the company as long as some of the other interns, so I'm not sure that I'll even be considered, but I do think I meet all the qualifications. I can talk football with the rest of them. If I had a television in this room, the NFL channel would probably be on. Preseason is approaching, after all. I ordered the NFL package on Direct TV last year, for crying out loud. But... football is not all sports, so... I'd need to brush up on my baseball stats and golf lingo, I suppose. But I'd willingly do it for a bigger paycheck and health insurance!
I'M GETTING USED TO the job and to the city. The crowds aren't phasing me as much, the beggars may as well not exist, and I've managed to find a way to read my book on the train to and from work whether I'm standing or sitting. I can even swipe my metro card at the speed necessary to receive the "GO!" prompt. Every time I do it—five times in a row, now!—I feel that much better about myself. It's like a pat on the back, or a signal to anyone following me through the turnstile that regardless of my less than two weeks in the city, I'm part of it now. If only I could stop getting lost trying to find the subway on the way home from work...
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