I think I mentioned a little while back, that I wanted a particular internship, but their production office was not yet open. Well, it opened, I called, and–probably mostly because the woman who was hiring was alumnus of my spelunking school and was already in the process of recruiting from there, I did get the internship. Yeah!
So far, it’s pretty kick back. They don’t really seem to need interns yet, and I’m not sure they ever will, but I get to sit in the bull-pen, and hang out with the writer’s assistants and see the writers come and go from “the room.” It’s sometimes hard for me to be in places where I’m not really needed. I’ve been a bit addicted to feeling useful. But I also realize how nerve-wracking it is for people who want to go on with their lives, when you bring your need to feel included into it. It makes people nervous. I’ve been in that situation, from jobs where you have extra bodies, but it takes all kinds of energy to find things for them to do, to party guests, to house guests. The best ones know how to just hang out. So that’s my goal. Listen, learn, mostly shut up, but try to be a little fun, and just hang out. I’ll do some writing. Play some Typer Shark.
The storyline in my life that has reached some resolution is the “thesis project.” After a final work week of anxiety, depression, a salting of self-loathing, I did indeed turn it in–as did most of the other folks in our program. Our committees read and deliberated, and last night, I received my call from the chairman of the department, letting me know the script was “well-received” and that I passed. I was relieved of course, and gratified…but it’s just my nature, I was also a little sad. There is this thing called “distinction” that you can get. I wasn’t disappointed at all that my committee had not awarded it–there is no way they could have, because, despite the improvements that I know I have made, I also know the third act is not yet where it needs to be. But some people seem to take soaring leaps, and I sometimes wish I was like that. But I’m not. Paul’s impression of me is the sound of a little train chugging up a hill “chug chug chug.” I get there, but there are few leaps and bounds, it’s just chugging onward, little by little. Inch by inch.