Futurist
It's August. Some friends are gearing up for another year at school, some are getting ready for work, and others, like me, are wondering what the hell to do with themselves now that we've reached that cramped little space between the two.
I skipped graduation, and most of my summer was spent ignoring the phantom of real life. Instead, I spent it getting totally smashed in London fairly regularly. But, as with all good things, they end. The veil has lifted, and I'm left to stare real life in his stern, zitty face with the stark realization that school is starting and I won't be there.
The two companies in Chicago I'd hoped would hire me upon my return didn't come through. As of Tuesday, I was back to square one. I spent the day scouring craigslist and Mandy, a film-centric job posting site to little success. Turns out in a bad economy there is plenty of work, but noone really wants to pay you for it.
The next day I called in the big guns: Dad. By the time I woke up, my resume had already been sent to the far corners of the globe. I received forward after forward from my father detailing that little PDF's journey to LA, Boston, and New York.
After a whirlwind journey of phonecalls and e-mails, a few options peeked out from the wreckage. I have a meeting for an internship with the International St. Louis Film Festival, a possible Production Company also in St. Louis (tv mostly), and a meeting about an internship in New York.
Dad had previously said "No more unpaid stuff outside St. Louis," so when I received an e-mail back from this company asking if I "could meet tomorrow at 4" I almost laughed as I pushed it along to Dad. I didn't expect him to ask me to negotiate the meeting to next week so I could get a cheaper flight.
So what do I make of all this? Too early to tell. I'm still waiting to hear back from people who've apparently stuck my resume under the noses of people at National Geographic TV, the US Soccer Federation in Chicago, and other production companies in LA and NY. For now, all I can do is send lots of e-mails, and get really comfortable saying, "Hi, my name is Chris."
I skipped graduation, and most of my summer was spent ignoring the phantom of real life. Instead, I spent it getting totally smashed in London fairly regularly. But, as with all good things, they end. The veil has lifted, and I'm left to stare real life in his stern, zitty face with the stark realization that school is starting and I won't be there.
The two companies in Chicago I'd hoped would hire me upon my return didn't come through. As of Tuesday, I was back to square one. I spent the day scouring craigslist and Mandy, a film-centric job posting site to little success. Turns out in a bad economy there is plenty of work, but noone really wants to pay you for it.
The next day I called in the big guns: Dad. By the time I woke up, my resume had already been sent to the far corners of the globe. I received forward after forward from my father detailing that little PDF's journey to LA, Boston, and New York.
After a whirlwind journey of phonecalls and e-mails, a few options peeked out from the wreckage. I have a meeting for an internship with the International St. Louis Film Festival, a possible Production Company also in St. Louis (tv mostly), and a meeting about an internship in New York.
Dad had previously said "No more unpaid stuff outside St. Louis," so when I received an e-mail back from this company asking if I "could meet tomorrow at 4" I almost laughed as I pushed it along to Dad. I didn't expect him to ask me to negotiate the meeting to next week so I could get a cheaper flight.
So what do I make of all this? Too early to tell. I'm still waiting to hear back from people who've apparently stuck my resume under the noses of people at National Geographic TV, the US Soccer Federation in Chicago, and other production companies in LA and NY. For now, all I can do is send lots of e-mails, and get really comfortable saying, "Hi, my name is Chris."