Trying to find a job in New York city
My mother kept school memoir books for each one of us. I remember being so jealous of how thick my older brother and sister’s books were in my elementary years. The book has a couple of pages dedicated for each grade, and a pocket to store report cards, certificates and a few school assignments. There was a space for your yearly school picture as well. Next to your picture you were able to (write in the book!) and answer a few prompted questions and sign your name, at the time it feels exciting to merely write inside of a book. When I look back through this book, you see the metamorphosis of your appearance, your handwriting, and the ever important line to fill in. “When I grow up, I want to be…”
It just dawned on me, sitting here at my desk, I always wrote that I wanted to be an artist (and then after I got my childhood dog, it changed to a veterinarian for many years, to inevitably make Coco live forever). Remembering this fills me to the brim. I knew at age 5, that being an artist, a creative, was something that I had to do. I remember my first artist’s apron, and can smell the brand new box of oil pastels. My fingertips can still feel the raised wax and the feeling of smudging the vibrant colors across the paper. I cherished my first spiral bound sketch pad like it was my most prized possession. I remember reading books like The Boxcar Children and can still smell the stews that they would make with wild potatoes and onion. Then I read Hatchet and felt the pull of adventure on my heart, and I became obsessed with the outdoors collecting survivor gear for years after.
I have been influenced and drawn to the arts my entire life. I don’t know why this feels like such a revelation to me this morning. It feels empowering. It makes me grateful to have parents that encouraged my bookwormery and live inside of my imagination while my brother tinkered with motorcycle parts and was completely logical thinker. My sister wanted to play house, and be a mother and chase boys.
Thinking about this makes me feel like maybe I didn’t stray from my heart at all. Most people call me dreamer, a wanderer, but I always have been. I wanted the whole world then, and I still do. I want all of it. I want to hear music, paint watercolors, write poetry, travel alone, and fall in love over and over. Maybe I’m an artist, after all. My inner child approve wholeheartedly with my path. For today, that’s enough for me.
This entry was posted in I just moved to New York City, Uncategorized and tagged Andrea Heap, Artist, aspiring writer, books, Brooklyn, childhood dreams, children's books, country girl in the big city, create, family, follow your heart, friends, Hatchet, homesick, love, My first year in New York, New York City, The Boxcar Children, Trying to find a job in New York city, Wine Makes me Happy, Winemakesmehappy.wordpress.com, Writer in Brooklyn, Writer in New York City.
The bad news is, I have applied to 41 jobs and have only had three interviews. The good news is, there were 41 writing jobs to apply to. And, I was a bit picky. So I could have applied to hundreds.
I have been temping at a really great company on a 2-3 week assignment. It has been my favorite temping experience yet, and the longest assignment which is great! I appreciate the consistency of it. I am getting a routine down again and it feels really good. The irony of the situation is that they are hiring someone for the permanent receptionist position, and they can’t hire me because I work with a staffing agency and they can’t afford the finder’s fee. So, because I’m with a staffing agency, I can’t get hired. Hmmm. At least I can work consistently for the next couple of weeks! I will take it.
I came back to New York fully charged and full of promise with a great job interview to look forward to… I still haven’t heard back from the interview after four weeks and three follow-up emails. The interview went well, and it seemed like an amazing place to work and an incredible learning experience with a major magazine to shine up the resume. There was a few weeks that I had zero temping jobs, and I was having a hard time emotionally. It was bitter cold, and hard to want to go outside, so I was sort of stuck inside of the apartment. I had a hard time in those weeks, but finally I’m in a better place.
I also had an awful interview last week for a receptionist position. The girl was rude and essentially tried to dissuade me from wanting to work there the whole time. It was a very disappointing experience and a waste of a $40 cab ride. (I was on my lunch break at my current job and had to take a cab to meet the time frame!) If I got hired there (which I sort of hope that I don’t) it would be so ironic-horrible interview, I get the job. Two great interviews and I don’t? I would probably take the job, but honestly, it seems like sort of a horrible place to work. Moving here has made me question everything. Do I interview well? Do I make a good first impression? Why aren’t people wanting to hire me?
I had a visitor from 303 Magazine come to Denver this weekend to cover the pre-game Super Bowl parties and I had so much fun showing him around. (He had never been to NYC before!) I just talked the poor guy’s ear off on the train, telling him the ins and outs of living here. It was really a fun to be on the other end of visitor/local spectrum. It made me so excited for my friends and family to make the trek out here. This city still excites me and I had a lot of New York moments this weekend that will give me nutrients to persevere through this slow discouraging time.
I guess I am feeling a bit somber today. But I am still happy to be here. And am thankful for so many things that are right in New York. I hope some exciting things are just on the horizon! (Photos to come!)