Boy, it's drafty. While one nightmare slowly comes to an end (construction is done, fixtures don't quite work), another begins. Reader, I am sick. Obviously, I blame the dengue. I would like to stay on the couch and recuperate, but there's still a lot of dust in the air and home is not so comfortable for vegging.
I am also sick at heart, or more accurately, sick at professional ambition. It seems likely that the financial crisis will make finding a real job much more difficult. It feels like everyone is on a hiring freeze. Or maybe they just don't like me and that's why I'm not hearing back. When does the personal panic kick in, by Christmas maybe? I certainly intended to be employed by Thanksgiving, but, I don't know, man, I don't know.
In other news, I went out on Saturday night with an old, old friend - middle school vintage - who I hadn't seen in at least 5 years. We reminisced about the good times (our Barbie soap opera video for 9th grade bio, Larry the Mole), the bad times (8th grade love triangles, French trip heartbreak) and discovered all the things we have in common today, like Brooklyn, remarried moms, and a love of Toronto. I also spent half an hour monologuing about what makes The Wire so sophisticated and unique and upsetting and intimidating for someone ostensibly "writing" a "screenplay."
Finally, as we have less than 2 weeks until the election for President, I urge you, dear Reader, to go to a phone bank. Make some calls to your fellow Americans in Colorado, Nevada, Ohio, Pennsylvania, Virginia, or North Carolina. Put your mouth where your heart is and tell the country why they should support Senators Barack Obama and Joe Biden. If we give them 2 weeks of focussed effort they will give us 8 years of something better.
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