this is not a post about a dead celebrity.
you've got to win a little,
lose a little
and always have the blues a little
new york city looks like gotham. it's rained basically the whole month of june. i'm starting a new job on monday, a PA for an obsessive compulsive upper west side lady who wants help keeping her tee shirts neatly folded. she thinks i'm overqualified. she's right, but i can't eat my bachelors degree. i think she's just pleased to have found a native speaker of english.
the past month and a half all sort of blurs together. it doesn't matter how much i hated my last job - i wanted to leave on my terms. being told you just aren't cut out to open mail and make copies for a group of people you hated anyway doesn't do wonders for your self-esteem. but i think a period of despair has to happen to you, once in a while, so you can have the experience of waking up. maybe i'm just pleased to be able to afford to do my laundry again.
adam keeps telling me to read my own cards, i'm so good at doing it for everybody else. i say it doesn't work because i'm not objective, and that's true. but the deeper motive, i think, has to do with wanting to be in the role of helped, advisee, the one seeking guidance. "if you are the Fool, then be the Fool." if you're a runner, run. if this is home, then welcome home. i'm rereading my 2004 LJ entries and am overwhelmed with admiration and envy for that whiny, mordant, cynical, hopeful, neurotic, ignorant, operatic 18-year-old. this is maybe a bad sign. more reason not to do my own tarot? my readings of events are largely suspect. but there's a pleasure in that, too, relaxing your analytical faculties and letting the world rush in at you. the george washington bridge lit up like a ferris wheel. midtown skyscrapers disappearing into low clouds. fat little sparrows hopping down the sidewalk. if this is home?
lose a little
and always have the blues a little
new york city looks like gotham. it's rained basically the whole month of june. i'm starting a new job on monday, a PA for an obsessive compulsive upper west side lady who wants help keeping her tee shirts neatly folded. she thinks i'm overqualified. she's right, but i can't eat my bachelors degree. i think she's just pleased to have found a native speaker of english.
the past month and a half all sort of blurs together. it doesn't matter how much i hated my last job - i wanted to leave on my terms. being told you just aren't cut out to open mail and make copies for a group of people you hated anyway doesn't do wonders for your self-esteem. but i think a period of despair has to happen to you, once in a while, so you can have the experience of waking up. maybe i'm just pleased to be able to afford to do my laundry again.
adam keeps telling me to read my own cards, i'm so good at doing it for everybody else. i say it doesn't work because i'm not objective, and that's true. but the deeper motive, i think, has to do with wanting to be in the role of helped, advisee, the one seeking guidance. "if you are the Fool, then be the Fool." if you're a runner, run. if this is home, then welcome home. i'm rereading my 2004 LJ entries and am overwhelmed with admiration and envy for that whiny, mordant, cynical, hopeful, neurotic, ignorant, operatic 18-year-old. this is maybe a bad sign. more reason not to do my own tarot? my readings of events are largely suspect. but there's a pleasure in that, too, relaxing your analytical faculties and letting the world rush in at you. the george washington bridge lit up like a ferris wheel. midtown skyscrapers disappearing into low clouds. fat little sparrows hopping down the sidewalk. if this is home?