O Jove, teach me how to choose: Incline me to comply, or help me to refuse... -Semele
I just read something very disturbing. According to Newsweek, the CIA has admitted to using a torture practice called waterboarding on terror suspects. Waterboarding, or forcing large amounts of water into a person's nose and mouth to simulate drowning, was less recently used by agents of the Spanish Inquisition. Yeah, I shit you not. Enlightenment principles? What are those?
As much as I despise routine, my life has settled back into one: Wake up as late as possible, do some reading, go to class, call the boy, regale the roommate with stories from FIT's crazier denizens, drink some wine, go to sleep as late as possible. Fortunately, this schedule leaves little time for reflecting on the fact that I still don't have a job. I've sent out my resume to several companies on the FIT job board, but nothing yet. I did get a call from a designer who needs trade show models. Though I fit in a sample size (usually a 2/4) I'm really not tall enough. 5'7" is petite in the fashion world. It's really too bad, because even promotional models make decent money, and I could use some. I have less than $100 to my name. (I feel awful about this, because I promised an old friend I would send her money as a wedding gift, and I have nothing to send.)
Still, live goes on, as it has for at least the past six millenia. Isabelle gave me a copy of Jean Anouilh's Antigone, with which I am now obsessed. It's exactly the kind of thing I would do. I am also obsessed with my friend K's new play, Jean et Jeanne, about French Resistance hero Jean Moulin and Jeanne Darc, the Maid of Orleans. K is so talented. If there were anything I could do to help her get produced...
I am off to Statistics, which against the odds, I am actually good at. Afterwards, I shall apply to be a fitting room attendant at Barney's. Glamorous, right? At least I'd get a nice discount...
As much as I despise routine, my life has settled back into one: Wake up as late as possible, do some reading, go to class, call the boy, regale the roommate with stories from FIT's crazier denizens, drink some wine, go to sleep as late as possible. Fortunately, this schedule leaves little time for reflecting on the fact that I still don't have a job. I've sent out my resume to several companies on the FIT job board, but nothing yet. I did get a call from a designer who needs trade show models. Though I fit in a sample size (usually a 2/4) I'm really not tall enough. 5'7" is petite in the fashion world. It's really too bad, because even promotional models make decent money, and I could use some. I have less than $100 to my name. (I feel awful about this, because I promised an old friend I would send her money as a wedding gift, and I have nothing to send.)
Still, live goes on, as it has for at least the past six millenia. Isabelle gave me a copy of Jean Anouilh's Antigone, with which I am now obsessed. It's exactly the kind of thing I would do. I am also obsessed with my friend K's new play, Jean et Jeanne, about French Resistance hero Jean Moulin and Jeanne Darc, the Maid of Orleans. K is so talented. If there were anything I could do to help her get produced...
I am off to Statistics, which against the odds, I am actually good at. Afterwards, I shall apply to be a fitting room attendant at Barney's. Glamorous, right? At least I'd get a nice discount...