Great Expectations (and Accompanying Failures)

Okay... I'm frustrated.

I know being hopeful is better than the alternative, even if it amounts to nothing. I know nothing in life would be good if it wasn't for all the bad stuff in between. I know optimism should make things happen to my advantage. AND YET, I don't think there's any worse feeling than false hope.

I just met two women who work for a prominent publication, in advertising for entertainment and fashion. They asked me about my favorite movies and tv shows, so of course I had plenty of strong opinions and I'm sure they noticed my sparkly eyes (it happens when I talk passionately about something). It's the only explanation for what happened next. One of them asked suddenly, "How tall are you?" "Um... five-six," I answered, confused by what this had to do with the latest Matthew McConaughey disaster we'd been discussing. "Have you ever modeled?" I searched her face for signs that she was mocking me, but found none. "Um, no," I replied, as my reddening cheeks erased the freckles on my nose. "Honey, you have the perfect body for modeling," she declared. "Especially for Ralph Lauren. He would love you. I can picture you on the back of a horse in a polo shirt." "Oh yeah? I used to ride horses!" I giggled, already imagining meeting Gaspard Ulliel in a photo shoot and then maybe in a hot tub later and then taking family photos with our four children - Wait, I'll have to steal him from his boyfriend first probably, I reminded myself, before snapping back to reality and a ringing phone, declaring that my visitors should be let upstairs.

They were gone for an hour, giving me plenty of time to plot the perfect escape from receptionisting (receiving? recepting? answering phones). I had already told my saviors that this was a temporary position, but I felt like I hadn't made myself seem eager or available enough. Could I slip them my email address? Jokingly ask if they could put in a good word to Ralph? BEG FOR JUST A TINY SPECK OF HUMANITY IN THIS GOD DAMN ECONOMY? My stomach was fluttering; my heart pounding every time I heard the elevator start to move.

Finally, they stepped out. The phone wouldn't stop ringing, but luckily they had to put on their jackets and get their things together. I basically hung up on three people. "Maya!" they yelled, "it was so lovely to meet you!" "Oh, it was great to meet you guys too!" I yelled right back. "Honey, do you like living in New York?" my biggest fan inquired. I had mentioned my college career in California, shamelessly bragging about the two majors and subsequent honors I'd acquired there. "Well, it's taken some getting used to," I grinned, "but it's really not so bad." "Well, you have a lovely face. Come back to LA." She started walking towards the door. "WHY?" I screamed in desperation. "Do you know of anything in LA?" "No," she laughed, "but good luck, darling!"

Just like that, they were gone. I know I should be excited just that someone thinks I COULD hypothetically be successful in such a career, but I guess I just wish someone would help me through it. Everyone knows you can't just walk into Ralph Lauren's office and demand to speak with him. CONTACTS! It's all about contacts. And shit, I just lost my only one.

This is like when that cute boy approached me at the Apple Store last week, hung around even after his iPod was retrieved from the Genius Bar, told me I was cute, and then left abruptly and inexplicably without asking for a name or number or anything. Fine, maybe that's how some people do it, just harmless meaningless flirting, but dammit I fall in love with every boy that talks to me. And it's hard to find a cute, funny mac geek who can rock khaki pants and give me compliments without seeming desperate or condescending.

In conclusion: I don't have a boyfriend or a modeling career (TWICE over, since I just this weekend failed to follow through on ANTM), so I guess... suicide, then? Who's with me? Greg, I know you're in.

Having a Job is Better... Srsly

So... I can't tell you where I work, because I don't want to get fired. But it's (probably) a temporary position, so I get the thrilling combination of working 12 hour days AND worrying about how I'm going to pay my bills next month. Sometimes I remember how nice it is to sleep in, and to drink every night of the week, and to watch tv all day in my pajamas. Then, hours of misty eyed daydreaming later, someone reminds me that OH WAIT, those are symptoms of depression.

I spent 6 months in the south, the result of a misguided attempt to prove that I was fully devoted to my boyfriend at the time who of course I would NEVER EVER leave and couldn't live without. His office pitied me enough to give me a job answering phones. Unfortunately the position didn't require me to wake up before noon, leave my house, or stop watching marathons of Jon & Kate + 8. After this thrilling stint, I moved to New York, thinking it would be a great adventure which would result in a modelling career or the title of some company's CEO, or at the very least a husband. It resulted in 6 (and still going!) horrible months of sleeping in, drinking myself numb, watching tv in my pajamas, and the occasional fruitless job search.

I knew I wouldn't enjoy this extended "vacation" when I quit my last job a year ago. Even though I was working 14 hour days, fighting with disgruntled employees, and on several occasions using toxic-waste protective gloves to scrub the blood of hobos out of the carpet... I kind of loved it. I like being busy, and I like being challenged, and this definitely was the kind of job where I didn't have enough time to finish anything and I didn't know what to do in any given situation. It was very painful and dramatic, and therefore it was invaluable to my life. I've never been unemployed, and I thought it might be a nice break from you know, the bleeding homeless people, but it just obliterated what little pride and confidence I had left. Don't worry, it's coming back now that I have this fantastic job ANSWERING PHONES ALL DAY. I'm so glad I went to college for that double major. Totally worth it.

Anyway, you guys sitting at work, dreaming of a full night's sleep and watching every episode of It's Always Sunny... trust me, it gets old. I won't tell you what all the old people are lecturing in my direction, about how In This Economy You're Lucky You Can Afford That Fancy Macintosh Computer, but honestly - even if your job sucks, it could be worse. You could be unable to pay your bills, OR you could be dealing with bleeding homeless people. If you are in either of these situations... I sincerely apologize, and hope you are using the proper biohazard materials. You can come answer phones with me if you want.