The Beginning

The Bitter End

Last week was spent at an amazing ranch in Wyoming, where I rode horses, drove cattle, and played cowboy.
But I'll begin at the end of the trip, because that's what is making my hands shake and stomach sick.

After getting home after a late flight and a long and windy ride with a confused cabbie, I ran to check my e-mail. I hadn't touched a computer since before the trip, and I was chomping at the bit for some kind of 21st century communication.

I noticed an e-mail from the ex. I wasn't expecting this:

"I hope your trip is going well or went well depending on when you get this

I want to let you know that over the weekend 8/10 I got engaged its not a
joke and I'm sure it quite a surprise still is for me also

I wanted to tell you myself and not have you find out from Kate or another
source which would be a rather lousy way to find out"

For a split second, I wanted to give all the career success away, and just have someone to be happy with. I didn't cry. I had a laugh with my roommates about it all, and poked some fun at the girl I know nothing about. But it stayed with me through the night, and sleep proved impossible. The iPod this morning spent half the commute this morning jolting me awake from the jet-lagged haze and the other half creating tears that welled up in my eyes.

The worst part about it is that for once, he was honest. He told me upfront and directly about something significant - something he never did while we were dating. He's the person I always wanted him to be, only now he is with someone else.

I don't want him anymore. I haven't wanted him for a long time. But all of a sudden, I am back to square one.

Dysfunctional

I have ten drafts wating to post. All ten are three-quarters of the way done. Kind of like everything else in my life lately-not quite complete.
I have become one of those people that I hate - those people that say they never have 'time'. I hope there is a day when my job won't feel so overwhelming, and a day when I stop obsessing over insignificant details to the point of exhaustion.
But I'm just so tired. And I feel like maybe I wasn't that far off when I said in a previous post that I think the stability is killing my creativity.
Have I really become one of those people that needs something to go wrong to feel a rush of creative energy?

Better Late Than Never

Ok, a brief disclaimer: This was written exactly two months ago, when I was still fresh and new at the AP (you know, the time before you feel like you're allowed to check your personal e-mail?) Anyway, I felt the need to share. Enjoy.

April 27, 2007
I went to a going away party for one of the business editors tonight. A going away party for a person I hadn't talked to, except for when we were introduced.

"This is Samantha, she comes to us from a fashion publication," my trainer said to him on my first day at the AP, with the inflection of a gate monitor at the Magic Kingdom.

His eyes rolled off to the side with what I thought was judgment.

Fashion. Why did she have to tell people? Of anything, anywhere, is there anything that could make these people take me less seriously than that?

Of course, after she said it to every one of those 40 people in my division, I wanted to crawl in a cave and die, or at least wave a white flag. I can't handle this. It's too much, too big, too intense. The confidence I had was gone now, hidden behind a nervous smile as I asked:

"I'm sorry, what was your name again?"

But the days have gone by, and through every 8 hours more questions arise, and more instructions roll through my head about how I am supposed to act. I am laughing more though. And smiling more. Feeling like myself again.

These people, my co-workers, are ridiculously nice. Coming over to my desk, one hand gently on my back, the other guiding the mouse where it is supposed to go. Instant messages blink on my computer screen from editors "just making sure I'm ok."

"Just a note to say you are doing great. It will get better and easier eventually, I promise. Take a deep breath. Hope you are having a good day."

"Samantha, how are you? I want to assign you this mover (a story about a significant stock move) -- have you done this before? Wanna take a crack at it?"

The most dramatic time in my short lived career at the AP happened when the editor I was assigned to called me over for some personal instruction. That day had been a tough one - I was on my own for the first time, with computer programs I barely knew and numbers of which I did not know the relevance.
He called me over like you would call a dog to jump in the car to go to the vet. His body stiff, I knew I was in for something. And whatever it was, it didn't seem good. Not good at all.

I lined up behind him like a child waiting to be punished. He put his fingertips together and then lifted his hands to his face. Deep breaths in and out; I watched as he contemplated his next move. I let my own eyes close gently as I let the breath out of my lungs; the calm before the inevitable storm.

His silence made me even more afraid of what he would think of this first big centerpiece story. But as I was leaning in to hear if he had any edits for me, he threw his head back and slammed his hands on the desk.
"That's what I'm talking about!" he shouts. Uh-oh. What did I do?
He says is again. I am terrified. Not only am I going to get yelled at but it's going to be loud.

"Samantha, this is great. Really great. Jesus, when you write your first book, can I have a free copy?"

Note to self: Confidence helps ease the fears of being killed by my boss.

Wait'a'ya hear this!

In a move of unparalleled conceit, today I set up a Google Alert: for myself.

Summer in the City

It's summer in New York today- the sun is bright and parties have spilled out onto the streets. My block is bursting with Latin sounds and the smell of grilling meat and the smoke of firecrackers.

I can't help but think that this is a new beginning for me...as the new job is starting to feel like routine and my life is opening up with new possibilities. Some things have stayed the same, although I have a fear that with every thing new and exciting comes something from my old life being pushed out.

There are friends I haven't talked to in ages that I wonder about. My best friend is getting married in a few short months and yet phone calls to her have gone unreturned. I haven't talked to her since she announced the engagement, and I miss the sound of her voice.
I no longer have the security of the ex's voice on the phone, although gruff and unemotional most of the time, was still a way I pushed through the loneliness.
I haven't talked to my sister since I came back to the city from a visit over a month and a half ago. I am partly to blame--I think the sadness I felt at the old job was more serious than I knew at the time. A depression, possibly, although I don't want to admit it. I feel a bit of a cloud over my life now even though everything at work is what I imagined it to be, and my social life is starting to pick up again.

Everything is how I have planned it for so long, but my head is spinning. I can't slow down the days enough to get my breath and I feel I am leaving some very important pieces of myself behind.