You’re a spunky kid. You decided to come into this world a whole week later than we had planned, and even then you were a breach birth. So comfortable, you were; we literally had to cut you out of me. God dammit. You’ve never liked doing things the easy way. I love you so much for it already.
This is the first job interview of my life that really counts, and I already know it: I’m going to have to seriously bullshit my way through it.
More importantly, when he eventually asks me The QUESTION, I’m going to have to lie straight through my teeth. I know this. I’ve rehearsed my delivery of its answer about ten times this morning in the hotel mirror. No one practices lying that much if they don’t know they’ll need it. I need to know that when it comes my answer will be so good and perfect and casual that he won’t suspect anything at all. People lie all the time. That’s how you get to work in New York, probably, right?
“So your resume address says New Jersey? Are you based there or do you have plans to relocate to the city?”
“Actually I’m moving in six weeks! To a friend’s room in Brooklyn. I’m,” (flirtatious but professional laugh), “obviously trying to line up something to actually pay for staying here permanently.”
Somewhere between Ohio and Pennsylvania, on our return trip from our grandmother’s 90th birthday party, soundtracked by endless episodes of WTF Podcast and This American Life, I decide to restart this blog.
I keep trying to remember exactly when I made the decision to stop writing about myself and television. It was basically four-ish years ago, and it was basically because I had my first real New York City job (my dream!), and I guess I got too busy, and it was essentially because… what? Nothing. I keep coming up with nothing. I’m sitting in the MetroNorth station in Rye, NY, waiting for my train home, flipping through Spotify for something new to pass the journey. I listen to the same four angry playlists and albums lately; they are starting to bore me. Scroll, scroll, scroll — ah. The Civil Wars, Barton Hollow. And that’s when I remember why.