I flew into New York about 24 hours ago and boy are my arms tired. That's not a joke; it's a run-on sentence. I'm actually kind of sore all over and I think it is from hauling my stuff from LaGuardia to Jersey City during rush hour. First, I'm glad I decided against using my ginormous backpack because that would have been a disaster. Even packing significantly lighter was a lot to haul around on a bus, then through the subway turnstile, down stairs, up stairs, through a revolving exit gate, another turnstile, more stairs, ANOTHER turnstile, and then down the steps to Ben's place. It also didn't help that I was dressed for Late October weather and not the actual mid-70's temperatures. What the frig, climate change?

So far it has been rather uneventful. Ben has this place that he goes to called "work", so today was spent looking up similar places called "jobs". I sent in one application, walked to a nearby store to pick up some provisions, applied to a couple more jobs, then walked around the neighborhood for a bit. Ben lives in the Paulus Hook area of Jersey City, a place that he describes as the next great hipster homestead. I didn't quite get that vibe from walking around, but that was around 3 so it might have been too early in the day.

Tomorrow will be my first excursion into the Apple of Bigness. Originally I called this experience a relocation, but with nothing officially anchoring me down at this point I should get some tourism under my belt. The Paley Center is holding a screening tomorrow afternoon/early evening, so that's at least something to plan my day around.

[Dinner Break]

So I just had Wasabi Gelato. Amazing.

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Follow-up

Sigh. I got a very polite rejection e-mail today. It probably would have been wiser to wait until I got home to check this particular e-mail. Instead, I became aware of it when I was on my way to the grocery store and my iPod's volume dipped for a second, a sign that something landed in my inbox. I get inside the store and check the message and see the bad news.

There's the initial "Aw, maaaaaan," but then it really hits again about 45 seconds later. Of course, the Universe can't leave well enough alone and has to try to make this a friggin' MOMENT. I'm standing in the frozen pizza aisle across from rows and rows of alcohol. I make a conscious decision not to pick up anything named Jack. Then friggin' PIANO MAN starts playing on the PA system. Now I'm just getting angry. Shut up, Universe.

The good news is I now have a contact at ESPN who would like to meet with me when I get to the City. The people I interviewed with were impressed with me, so it is helpful to know that I'm making progress. Still: Aw, maaaaaan.

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Telephone

Many of the career guides I've consulted have equated the jobhunting process with the process of dating. You can understand why my baseline anxiety level, which was already pretty high, has elevated in the last five months.

Right now I'm in the waiting-by-the-telephone phase. The first date interview with ESPN went fine, and I had a second interview that went better. It's taken a few practice runs, but at this point I'm getting the hang of dating interviewing mores. Mores such as the neurotic internal dialogue:

"I thought we had a great time -- why hasn't he called? Maybe he's busy, he'll call tomorrow. Maybe he's out of town. Oh God, was it something I said?" He feverishly replays the entire encounter in his head. "...I thought that was charming, maybe it wasn't...He seemed to respond positively to that...he can't think you're fat, he hasn't even seen you in person..."

I'm blurring the line -- that's not helping.

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