The Inevitable Nervous Breakdown

My bags are packed, I'm ready to go, I'm standin' here outside your door, I hate to wake you up to say goodbye. But the dawn is breakin', it's early morn. The taxi's waitin', he's blowin' his horn. Already I'm so lonesome I could die. So kiss me and smile for me. Tell me that you'll wait for me. Hold me like you'll never let me go...oh oops. That's a John Denver song! Sometimes I get my life confused with lyrics from 70's folk singers.

I guess it does make a little sense. Except my bags aren't quite packed yet and I'm not taking a taxi or leaving on a jet plane. More like the Chinatown Express. But the sentiment is the same. Ah, John Denver. You spoke for us all when you sang those words. I'm getting ready to make the long journey north. I haven't even left yet and already I'm so lonesome I could die. All right! Enough folk singers!

But seriously, folks. I am pretty nervous. I'm going to be up there New Year's Eve and I just got finished watching "When Harry Met Sally" and envisioning myself strolling the streets of New York trying to pretend I'm happy to catch up on my window shopping...alone...on New Year's Eve. And I'm wondering where my Sally comes in. When do I meet the friend that can save me from eternal lonliness in the city that never sleeps. It takes me a long time to get comfortable in a city and this time I don't have the safety net of school or friends to help me. I mean, I have a few friends but no one very close. And they're just guys. I don't know where I'm going to meet people who will want to be my friends. I feel like a kid on the first day at a new school. And it's worse than that! At least at a new school all the kids are eager to find out who you are, where you came from. You have a modicrum of mystery hanging about you. In New York no one's going to care that you're new to town. New people arrive fresh off the boat every ten seconds. I feel like I just might be the brunt of some horrible newbie practical joke; like in every movie I've ever seen when a small town girl comes to the big city to make it and instead gets kicked around by fate. Of course in those she always maintains her sense of hope and optimism and some how it all works out for her. I don't expect to be so lucky. I mean, luck can only carry me so far. I've been very lucky up until now. I've gotten a job and a place to live without even lifting a finger. I got an internship with only your average amount of input. (okay, I did have the trip from hell getting to the interview but that's only part of the comedic exposition. It's not the actual obstacle I've got to overcome. It never is.)

And so I'm left wondering if this all came just a little too easily. Will I really be given the chance of a lifetime and end up with the penthouse, the dream job and the boy after learning a valuable life lesson about the good that comes from hard work, creativity and a little hope? Or will this end like The Jungle, where he faces one hideous, life crushing blow after another but has to survive. And what about the friends? When do I make those?

The End of an Era

I think I lost a friend today. My best friend of eight years and I have decided to seperate. We've practically been a lesbian couple in the last year or so. She accompanied me to IKEA, helped me put furniture together, found me jobs and counseled me through countless family issues. She's been the first person I've called when I got a job, quit a job, did something stupid, did something smart, broke up with a guy, slept with a guy, got in a fight or saw a new movie. She brought me flowers, little gifts, crossaints, made me tea, brought me sugar.
We dared each other to do ridiculous things in the name of entertainment, helped each other up when we fell, took revenge on stupid fat cows and hated the same people. For eight years she has been the most loyal friend I could imagine. She wanted to chase my ex boyfriend down the street when he pretended he didn't recognize me. I pulled her off stage when Jean Marie caused her to fall down. She cheered me up when my family and my life was falling to peices. I drove with her to Pittsburgh to meet and then end the love of her life. (Certainly not the last.) I have admired her sense of fashion, taste in music, daring and playfulness since I met her. She's the one who regaled us with stories of her European friends on French nude beaches and museum openings with famous people. She is the one responsible for my job at the Kennedy Center and subsequently my job with the Super Bowl. I owe her so much. Without her I would not be the person I am today. She opened my eyes to a world that I would not have known without her curiousity, aesthetic and kindness.
Despite our problems I always thought we'd be in for the long haul together. I imagined us sitting on a patio with our kids playing in the yard, laughing over a cup of tea about our crazy youth. Instead I think we've come to a parting in our paths. I'm moving up to New York soon and she will be coming up shortly after but New York is like a river. You never step in the same place twice. My New York experience will be different than hers, and that will only seperate us further over time if we don't share the journey.

I've been afraid of this parting for some time. I knew we were both contemplating a seperation after our disasterous trip in New York. Part of me is glad. I will finally get out from under her stylish shadow. She's been like a big sister to me and as much as I've envied her I feel like it's time to step out on my own. It's time to make friends with people not through her. All of our coolest friends have been met through her friendly advances. They're hers and I'm just lucky enough to tag along. I'm ready to quit that. I'm also ready to develop my own style without her help. She's usually right but sometimes I feel like I can't make a decision on my own without discussing it with her first. I don't feel like a complete person when I can't make up my own mind. I feel like a leech. I can start fresh in a new city with new possibilities.

But at the same time I can't believe I'm going to be losing that friend who knows me so well she can guess what my move will be and the person I know so well I can anticipate when she's going to tell that story about us on the train to Amsterdam. Or any other story. I can tell what she's thinking so often and know how she'll react to something so often that sometimes I stop myself from speaking because I don't want to hear her reaction. I know when she's feeling uncomfortable in a situation or when something reminds her of an unpleasant memory. It really is like an old marriage sometimes.

And sometimes I don't know what she's thinking at all. Sometimes when I'm being my most honest she surprises me with a reaction I had hoped we had moved past. That's when it gets me, when she's been offended by something I've said and I haven't even realized it because I thought we were on the same page. I think that's why we need this seperation. Because sometimes she can't see when she is being stubborn and hurtful, and when her pride is getting in the way. And because I don't stand up to her and say what I think. And because she gets hurt so easily by things I don't realize I've said or done. I can't take such prideful sensitivity any more. I'm tired of tiptoeing around. I'm tired of not saying what I think because it might hurt her or that we might disagree. I don't feel strong enough to withstand her reaction when I disagree.

I know this is one sided. I can't see both sides anymore. I'm tired of doubling back on myself to make sure she doesn't disagree with my thoughts. I'm too hurt by what she has said to me and by what this separation means. I'm ready though to explore what the world is like without her.

Maybe some where in the future we will come across each other and begin our friendship again. Start fresh. I'm not good at giving up both hope and a friend in the same night.

Updates

The Kennedy Center Honors didn't stop when I quit writing. After what seemed like hours I got to go down to the gala. I had been packing boxes and pulling up taped wires and contemplating rebellion and why I shouldn't be forced to do what I was doing, I was the receptionist for God's sake! Not a bloody PA. Although I was, sort of. I just didn't want to be one then. I wanted to go mingle with Washington's finest. Finally my boss let me go and I ran so fast I almost tripped on my wedges. I wasn't going to risk him calling me back. I got some drinks and hung out with the production crew who ended up shutting down the place at the free bar. Trust a TV crew to find free booze and not let go. We "mingled" a little, if you can call it that. The foyer was so jam packed with tables that no body was sitting at and no place to walk through that it was pointless trying to get to the honorees. Besides, all the good famous people were already gone. I wanted to see Dolly or Steven or Tom. Not even Josh was left around. Disappointing, since Sam, Aja and I had hatched a plan to get Josh to come hang out with us, younger people. I did say a shy, five-year-old's hi to Aretha Franklin who was sitting down fanning herself at a table that we inched past. I think she said hi back and I didn't know what else to say. Cee Lo from Gnarls Barkley said I was sexy as I passed him. I said thank you. He was definitely on something. But I did look sexy.

Anyway, that was basically the end of it. I came in on Monday and helped the Production Coordinators finish boxing things up and waited for the vendors to come remove what we had rented from them. Soon it looked like a dance studio again. It was hard to believe what once went on here. It would have been sad if I hadn't been so exhausted. I went home and straight to bed. I wasn't doing Christmas in Washington like most everybody else and I had an interview in New York on Wednesday. I would have liked to have written about the day before it and my nervous trip up to New York, getting lost in Maryland as I tried to take Route 1 all the way and avoid boring highways and ridiculous tolls but I was too busy doing it. So I'll just relate to you the outcome. I had my interview at Tribeca Productions and looked at places to live with Aja. It was exhausting and not very productive. We came back defeated and irritated. We're going to look for seperate places.
On Friday, the day after we returned I got a call from someone in New York. I didn't know what it could be. I thought it was a rental person returning our calls. It turned out to be a job offer from a company who would be filming the Super Bowl. They had gotten my name from a lady I had worked with at the KCH and wanted to know if I would like to be their office PA in New York while they were in Miami. It would be a five week gig. I was dumbstruck. I had no idea this lady would have been so kind as to has passed on my information. It was one of the sweetest, surprising gestures I have ever received. (Except maybe for the person who paid my toll on the Pennsylvania Tollpike because I had no cash left. Thank you. ) I told them I would love the job after thinking about it for a minute but that I was waiting to hear back about something else so I wasn't certain wether I could or not. She said she would write my name down as though I was, just in case.
Now I have a bit of a delimma because I got a call from Tribeca last night saying they did want me as an intern. Great news lately, right? Then why do I feel so confused? I'm worried because I've got a paying job in a field related to the one I want and a non paying learning experience in the field I do want to be in. If I take the paid job will I forfeit the chance to work at Tribeca? Will this set me up for more television jobs when what I want to do is film? And is the Tribeca internship even what I really need to get where I want to be? Will they be kind enough to let me work around this schedule? Now that I'm writing this I feel like a complete jerk. How many people would like to be in my position right now? I have a paying job in a very cool city, one that I didn't have to lift a finger to get and an internship with a very prestigious film company. I'm going to quit complaining.

Cinderella at Someone Else's Ball

It feels like a grown up version of prom here tonight. Everyone is dressed up in their very best. The men in tuxedos and the women in elegant (black) dresses. I was not told about the "black" dress and so I wore the only dress I could find in my closet last night at 9:45 p.m. It's baby powder blue and one side is "ruched" meaning it is sort of gathered on the side. I altered a more boring version of the dress to make this one. I have on my cream colored 'sculpture' wedges. I look pretty good and I feel even better. Everyone has been admiring my dress.
I just went down to the stage for the Andrew Lloyd Webber segment. I wanted to be down there when Josh Groban got off stage. And to see him sing. I don't really love his songs. I wouldn't buy a CD and listen to it all the way through. But I love his voice. And Sam and I have a bit of a crush. I also have a bit of a crush on Sarah Brightman. When he came off he stood right by me and it was hard to breath. And then, after everyone went on to take their bows and came back off I got to see Betty Buckley and him and Liam Neeson. Wow. Liam. He looks pretty normal in real life. I would have just passed him by. He stood there looking a little lost. As I walked back towards the elevators, ending my magical moment back stage I passed by Shania Twain who my mom would like me to have pestered. I refrained because she looked a little orange. And dried out. And because I'd like to keep my dignity, even if my mom doesn't care.
I came back down when I had another moment and stood steps away from Reba who I think is totally cool. And she lived up to that. And Reese who is so tiny in real life. She was so delicate and sweet looking. I couldn't take my eyes off her. I take back ever thinking she looked weird and that Ryan was the better looking of the two.
And now I'm back in the office, packing up supplies and regretting my wedges. But it was all worth it for those ten minutes backstage.
And watching Jessica Simpson dig herself into a bigger hole of embarassment. She messed up somethingg during her song, 9 to 5 and started holding her stomach. I thought for a minute her top had fallen down but now I think it's just a nervous stomach. At the end she aplogized for being so nervous and nervously skipped off the stage like a five year old. What a dumbass. When she came off stage, one of the PAs told me just now she goes "FUCK" and started crying and runs off. Reese had to hold her hand during the bows. Iloveherevenmore!!
This event makes me want even more to be a success. I want, not to be on stage, but to do something. I don't want to do any more award shows. I want to be at the award shows. Even if I'm not winning or being honored. I just want to be a part. Not just the receptionist. I need to be somewhere. Will the way I've begun help me get anywhere? But I feel so ordinary. All these other people had such beginnings. I feel as though I'm completely ordinary. As if no one has ever noticed me in a way that might lead someone to think I had such potential. Or any potential for that matter. I think I might have a wee touch of jealousy and depression soon. I don't want to be the person who is helping the creative people acheive their goals. I want to be the creative person. I want to be part of a really great team. I want to be recognize, in any arena, for my creativity. Do I have enough stories to tell and enough drive to do it?

Oh, and by the way, Josh is the nicest person imaginable. It doesn't help my crush any.

I can't tell you what day it is or what hotel I'm staying at but there are two trees involved

Last night I went over to Kramerbooks to get some reading material. I was staying at the Doubletree with Samantha, the director's assistant as I had to be back in the office at 7 am. The Doubletree is a few blocks away from the Kennedy Center and that means my commute is much less than the hour it usually takes.
I wanted to get back to my room by ten if I could, which meant I had thirty minutes to park, pick out a book, pay for it and then get back to the hotel by Foggy Bottom. I drove around Dupont about ten times, like a crazy person who does the exact same thing and expects a different outcome. There were young professionals out everywhere. There were groups of them walking and laughing down the street. Some of them were dressed up. Some hurried along with their cellphone pressed to their ears. I couldn't figure out why there were so many people out. Were they all coming from work? Why were they here and making my trip more difficult? Then I finally realized today was Friday and these people were going out. It's pretty depressing when you forget it's the weekend and you can count on one hand how many times you have been outside or seen your family. It's even more depressing when you realize your weekend will also be spent indoors, in the same room you have been in for the past three weeks. It only slightly seems like a light at the end of the tunnel when you realize this job will be done on Monday. I like these people. I like working on this show but I'm ready to be done. And then, without a pause I go up to New York, which I think will be fun but will also be nerve wracking and exhausting.

p.s. Sorry about the post from earlier. it was a late night. Something that the cleanliness and comfort of the Doubletree took care of. I love down beds. I'm a new person.

12 hours and counting

I got here at 7:48 am. It is now 7:48 pm. I have been outside once. It was beautiful. Windy and wet but warm and the sky was full of clouds backlit with silver sunlight. It was my absolute favorite weather of all time. I saw it for two minutes. I wanted to run through the streets and sing joyfully. Instead I headed back into the recesses of the Kennedy Center. I need help. Please, help me. I can't do it anymore. I'm about to throw up. I want out. I give up. I give up. I don't want. I want I want I want. Sleep Sleep. No more white walled purgatory. Last night I dreamed about the phones. I DREAMED ABOUT DROPPING CALLS. This is not normal. I can't. I'm going to go puke in the bathroom. Goodbye.