Ever have something happen at the exact time you needed it to? A raise when you needed money, a new love when you felt alone, a new job when you felt you couldn’t go on another day at the one you have?
I need that to happen now.
I can feel that I am on the cusp of a major change in my life, and I am hoping it is for the better. I have been applying to jobs in New York, Connecticut, New Jersey – in a nutshell, anything that was train accessible and had the word ‘newspaper’ somewhere in the ad – for one year and three months.
One year and three months seems like forever, although I know its not. I know that the likelihood I will have to work harder, work longer, sell myself better, is extremely great. I know the city can swallow people alive, and yet it has left me whole. I have made it through the growing pains, and the horrible breakup and the doubters that told me I would never make it. I have made it, and made a life for myself here. It’s just that this last step feels so insurmountable. The puzzle is only missing one piece, but it’s a big one – and its jammed between the sofa cushions, and – well, you get the idea.
I came to New York to be the next Carrie Bradshaw and now I want to be the next Bob Woodward. Funny where life takes you. I came looking for a career that would make me the talk at high school reunions, even though I would never go to one. I came looking for the glamour, and now I just want to get back into the khakis again with the notebook in my back pocket, pen on my ear and camera in my hand.
I applied for another one today: Special Sections Editor at amNewYork, a free commuter daily owned by Newsday.
Here’s hoping.
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6 comments:
I remember before you moved thinking that you were going to do great. I think you are doing great already. The pieces will fall into place. Give it time (says the man without the nards to move outside of New England).
As always, Husher, you say exactly what I need to hear, and make me laugh hard enough to spit water out my nose.
Thank you for believing in me.
Thank you for spitting water out your nose. It's a very funny visual. Doesn't make me believe in you any less, though.
I laughed so hard at a joke a couple of weeks ago, I spit beer out my nose.
In response to "Beat it" coming on the radio in the bar, a friend said, "Michael Jackson makes my beer taste weird."
In fact, I have been spitting a lot of things out my nose lately.
Maybe I should get that checked out.
Sometimes, when I read your little exchanges, I worry about you two. Then I realize I'm not only laughing at what you wrote - I'm wishing I had thought of it. Gawd, now I'm worried about me.
Both of you made me (almost) spit tea out my mouth. My nostrils, however, remain prestine.
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