Old Man, Take a Look at My Life

And here we are. One week down in New York City. The last week has been a complete whirlwind, and I feel like I’m coming up for a breath, now, for the first time. It’s all very overwhelming, as I expected, as I’ve been told five hundred million times by everyone else who has been in my position, but there have been lots of good things I can hold onto as well. Trying to do any kind of summation of the last week chronologically would be exhausting, stupid, and almost as boring for me as for you, so I’ll just pick things up with this morning, leaving the near-endless amounts of lifting and rushing and building and drinking and worrying and dreaming and laughing and walking and taking deep, deep breathes that have made up my first week in New York to your (surely sufficient) imaginations.

I had a job interview this morning, my first one in the city. It was to be a shopper for a theatrical costume shop, basically running around the city all day buying fabrics and shit for them. It seems like it would be a good day job for a few reasons- it’s normal hours, Monday-Friday from 9 to 5, which is ideal for me as anything I want to do (stand up comedy, improv, perhaps some regular ol' acting) happens at night, and I also generally do my best writing in the evenings. It also would involve a fair amount of freedom, I wouldn’t be stuck behind a desk all day, and even if I’m working in costumes (a field I have no talent or interest in), I would still be meeting lots of people involved in theatre. I say all this now, when I don’t have the job and desperately want it, but it could also very well be a monster pain in the ass. More on that later.

In any case, it was one of the strangest job interviews I’ve ever had. Perhaps the strangest, and that’s saying a lot, considering I was once interviewed to be a delivery boy for Dominos Pizza by a man who, I found out later, spent the majority of his shifts hopped up on cocaine. The entire thing lasted approximately five minutes, and the woman asked me no questions. Okay, that’s a lie, she asked one: what are my long-term career goals. I could have lied through my teeth and said that I’d love to be a Broadway costume designer, but against my better judgement I told her the truth. She didn’t seem that thrown, and said that a former shopper now works for a Broadway producer, and that the job is a great way to meet people and make connections, no matter your specific interest. So far, so good. But then, she just described the job for a couple of minutes, asked me if I had any questions, and that was it. Nothing else! The interview was set for 10:30, I showed up at 10:20, and I was out the door before my scheduled time. I was all set to talk to her about all of my production experience, and student theater, and about ten other things that I had run through in my mind, and I didn’t get to say a goddamn word of it. What's worse, without giving any chance to talk I never got to really unwind, so I spent the entirety of the interview in the initial, nervous, tightly-wound stage. I can't figure it out. Who would call someone in for a job interview, and then ask them zero questions about the actual job?? Maybe the work is so easy she just figures anyone can do it and only wanted to make sure that I wasn’t a nutcase. Still, I can’t help but think that this all doesn’t bode well, and that there’s bound to be at least one applicant with a genuine interest in theatrical costume design who, rightfully, will get the job over me.

EXCEPT, at the end of the “interview”, when she told me I’d hear back tonight or tomorrow morning, she glanced at my resume again, smiled, and said “but it looks good.” Now, what the hell is that supposed to mean? Is she just being a tease? Why would she say that if she wasn’t interested? But how on earth could she be interested when I said a total of seven words during the entire interview? Maybe she just likes the shy, silent, submissive type. In case it isn’t already obvious, searching for a job is already striking me as a whole lot like dating.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what it means to be satisfied. And I don’t mean satisfied after you’ve eaten a big baked potato and unfastened your belt buckle. I mean the other kind, that near-mythic, deep-seeded, soulful satisfaction with your life that seems to exist for nobody in the real world except Zen Buddhists and Jay-Z. For as long as I can remember, I’ve always lived my life wanting something I don’t have, and I’ve always had a belief that if I could get that thing, that one thing, then suddenly the heavenly floodgates would open and everything would be wonderful. If I only got a lead part in the play, if I only got more friends, if I only survived Euro AP, if I only convinced a girl to kiss me, if I only got into a good college, if I only had sex, then, THEN the puzzle of my life would be solved, all the jagged, disparate pieces of my psyche would magically congeal into a perfect, smooth, healthy orb. Of course, all of those things happened, and each time I woke up one morning, took a breath and thought, well, this doesn't feel all that different now, does it?

Now, in this new stage of my life, there is a sharp influx of new worries, of new things that I want (a job, financial security, some sort of concrete plan for my future), but I know now more than ever that none of these things will change me. I want to say that it only matters what’s inside, but that sounds so idiotic and clichéd. But you know what, it’s true. It’s easy to see that some of these things would never be a miracle fix (when I get the hypothetical job that I so desperately want, I’m sure that it will be awful and I’ll start complaining about it right away, unleashing a brand new avalanche of unfulfillment and desires). In any case, I feel like I’m living my life with a slightly different perspective these days. It’s a personal philosophy that basically goes, well, there will always be things that suck. Nothing to do about it. It might sound a bit nihilistic, but it’s actually a huge relief.

I’ve also been thinking about college a lot lately, remembering lots of small moments: a funny line at a rehearsal, hands touching under a table, tiny winks and grins and revelations that seemed insignificant at the time but now hold an enormous symbolic weight for me, the entirety of my last four years condensed within their thin parameters. I wonder if I appreciated it all enough while I was there. Probably not. But then, I can sit back here, look around my remarkably comfortable new apartment, and feel pretty damn content. At least for right now. See, when you know that your worries are never, ever going to go away, it makes it a whole lot easier to temporarily ignore them.