Why is it that whenever I got really, really excited about something and envision futures of delight and happiness, it blows up in my face?
Take my first internship at CNN Türk. I was supposed to be interning at the arts & entertainment department of the channel, a program called Afiş, at CNN! Just, Turkish. So I showed up the first day and they parked me in front of a computer and I...spent about 8 hours on Facebook. And the next day too. Finally, I started bringing in books to read and I went through about 5 books in 3 days. Oh, they didn't leave me completely hanging though, oh no. I got to translate a one paragraph article from English to Turkish about the Black Eyed Peas performing for Nelson Mandela on his birthday. Except I had to email it to my mom to correctit before I turned it in because fuck if I know Turkish grammar, I never went to Turkish school, I don't read enough Turkish books, I never learned any of that! They also took me on two shoots, each one to film the intro of a segment within the show. I got to... stand to the side and watch a heavily made-up woman talk and then get barked at by the bad-tempered camera guy. I even shamelessly played the grandpa card. I NEVER play the family name card but finally I was so frustrated I started bringing in my grandfather's autobiography (which at the time I was translating into English, another project of mine that sputtered out and probably is no longer needed, not that I was doing a good job anyway) to work on and people noticed who it was and asked who I was. But then went back to ignoring me. Finally, I just quit. What was supposed to be a month-long internship ended up being a week and a half of the most mental frustration I've ever had to deal with. I was told to come in on a Saturday too once because they were covering a country-wide exam but did they tell me where? NOOOO. So I showed up at a completely empty office at 9 in the morning on a Saturday. Yes, maybe I should've checked and made sure where I was supposed to be, they said they were short of people, and this made me feel slightly guilty. But why should it? I know I was a lowly intern but for fuck's sake treat me at least like a human. I didn't even get to photocopy papers of fetch coffee.
Then let's see, there were all my music writing jobs. Oh I talk the big talk on how I got to interview some of my favorite bands and review records and get published. Big fucking whoop. I got to interview two bands that I actually liked, one which was with Hardcore Superstar who are pretty much my favorite band, but even that has a sour edge to it because their representation was so scatter-brained they stood me up twice on phone interviews (one on my BIRTHDAY) and I had to end up emailing them my questions. I got no money, barely any credit, and the very first online magazine I worked (who, I might mention, looooved me during my interview with them esp) for edited my stuff so much that I had to re-write everything twice or more just so I could at least have my words published. This from the people who emailed me to ask me to interview because my cover letter stood out from all the others because of my "voice." Not to mention, three, yes THREE, separate websites stopped responding to me and posting my articles and thereby letting me know my services were no longer needed in the most passive, unprofessional way ever. One website which at first was so into me they gave me my own column. What the fuck, are we in high school? Are you breaking up with me and ignoring my emails and texts? Just tell me straight out, I'm a big girl I can understand if you no longer want or need me to write for you. Haha oh and there was that other one where the guy I reported to hit on me via an email.
Which brings me to the latest thing. This internship turned part-time job. When I was interning for this literary agency, they sent me 22 books and scripts in 3 months to do in record time. I was so excited that I got the internship without having to stay in LA that I was happy to do it and I sincerely was. I'm good at what I do and I do it well. I don't sacrifice quality for speed, I can handle both. They realized this and actually kept me on after the internship ended as a paid reader. But now, I have received three books in two months. And they have not answered any recent emails.
Like I said, I get so, so nerdily dorkily excited when I get these opportunities. Hooray, someone likes what I can do and wants it! But then it just blows up in my face and I end up sitting up, waaaay past regular bedtimes ranting and raving and fuming and bitching and writing entries that are better suited for a middle school Livejournal than a grown-up blog. I understand having to pay dues and not getting things handed to me but I try! I would like something back for all the effort. It's frustrating, it makes my brain and heart hurt, and it makes me paranoid about my abilities and the fact that maybe I'm disappointing everyone around me. Screw it, I'm going to look at things that make me happy. And hug my cat. She has her butt pressed up next to me and is snoring so sweetly.
Credit goes to the beautiful, creative blogs I follow, all listed on the right.