my first post as a new yawker

dearest, dearest readers. it's been nearly a week since i last posted. why's that? well, to put it simply, because i moved to astoria, queens, have no internet and have no job. but i'll solve the internet thing tomorrow afternoon, as hilary and i sit like two children on christmas eve, anxiously awaiting the arrival of the time-warner cable man. as for a job, that's a little trickier. i had an interview yesterday at mannes school of music, but apparently there's someone out there who's a really incredible secretary with way more amazing secretarial skills than i have, because i just got an email that "they've decided to proceed with another candidate." and so my fantasies of getting a phone call this afternoon offering me a sweet, sweet full-time job are flushed down the toilet.

funnily enough, i'm writing this post from a desk on the 20th floor of comcast networks, where i'm filling in as a receptionist. that's right, receptionist. even when i started this blog, the, um, reluctant receptionist, i wasn't actually a receptionist. i'm literally sitting here at the front desk, right behind these double glass doors, answering the phone. so far the only person to call has been my new temp agent, who called to ask what kind of job i was looking for. i met her at 10:30 this morning. by 12 i was on my way to this fill-in job. apparently this woman is on top of it.

since i don't have a job, i'm being as cheap as humanly possible. this translates to not going out to eat--ever--or if i do, making sure that it's under five dollars. we're eating at home (eating well, mind you, but still at home) for the foreseeable future. oh, and drinking at home. hilary and i had cocktail hour last night at 11 (she with a gin and tonic, me with a corona) after we spent three hours trying to put together a wardrobe (which i'm calling a chifferobe as a nod to to kill a mockingbird and plan on asking people to come bust up for me) that i'm convinced was designed by the devil himself. i literally severely injured my foot with it and it nearly broke hilary's face.

i'm trying not to stare wide-eyed and open-mouthed at new york city, but i find myself unable to look as over-it as most people here do. i'm not, in fact, over it. i still can't quite believe that i'm here. it all seems a little bit like an amusement park at the moment, mainly because i can't seem to land a job. when you have nothing to do but try desperately to put together an apartment and go to temp agencies and cook dinner and go to the market, life feels weird. that's where i am right now.

and i can't help it. i know i make fun of baltimore, and i know that i needed to move. but i'm homesick. i miss my friends and my routine and i miss phong. this will eventually start to feel like home, i know, but it's not going to be immediate. i only wish it were.