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( Tuesday, Mar. 11, 2003 11:39 pm )

>Selling out, but nobody's buying

Hello, all. This week I've kicked off the Half-Hearted Push for Employment, aka the Trials of Job. I've been applying online for various out of date postings, making too many photocopies of my "clips" (aka embarrassingly corny articles written at various PCU internships), and, today, spending several hours trying to write a cover letter that sounded "snappy" and conveyed the message that I'm a good writer. I'm already exhausted and out of stamps, and now completely willing to sell out my artistic integrity for the impossible dream of a salary and benefits. Basically, any kind of full time salary at all will make me rich beyond my wildest dreams. I am willing to consider any position that makes use of the word "writer" in any way. I will club baby seals. I will pee in a cup. I will buy an interview suit and pretend to be a people person. This I pledge to you, soulless corporations.

In other news, I have stopped freaking out about Call for a little while and have decided instead to adopt an outlook somewhere between Bronte and Emerson (ie. self-confident but willing to take whatever comes). But I am hoping it will suddenly be 60 degrees on Thursday so that I can wear a skirt.

Tonight Juney and I were watching some quality television when the commercial for the movie Willard came on, that one with all the rats and I think the guy who was Marty's father in Back to the Future, and June had to block out the horror with her feet, prompting me to creep up over the edge of her chair chanting "ratths, ratths," which is how you'd say "rats" if you had a lisp. She was amused. I like how a lot of times we interact like we're eight.

Also, Landlady Ellie left us two bags of mini Crunch bars on the stairs today, and Juney and I had chocolate for breakfast.

Being a grownup is fun.

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