I haven’t been reading and writing as much as I have wanted to. I look at plane tickets to the UK and Europe everyday with the hopes of having the guts to click “Purchase.” I am beyond sick of applying for jobs. Even the title of my Facebook album is, “The Summer I Shouldn’t Be Having.”
I wasn’t supposed to have a summer. I was supposed to have a real job and be miserable, longing for the chance to get to the beach and sleep late. But no. Sure I freelance, which is great, but enough is enough with the job already. I am a fuming five seconds away from writing a strongly worded email telling whoever the “Godsend” of the publishing world is that gets to say “You got the job,” to just humor me. Give me the job and I’ll prove to you I can do it. If not kick me out. But just give me one week. Or you know what, I’ll even make an appearance. I would love to march through Manhattan (in my fabulous LK Bennett nude patent sledge pumps, just like the Duchess of Cambridge has and which I am currently on the waitlist for), and demand an audience with whoever posts those damn jobs.
But back to my summer. I’m sick of it. Yes, I am a lovely caramel color and actually look alive compared to the pale, dead-looking human that walked before you in the winter. Two weeks of summer, that’s all I need. I’m sick of the heat, the sun, the barbecues and the bugs. But more importantly, I’m sick of being unemployed. The last thing I want is to get comfortable again being stuck at home.
Every day in the back of my mind I have this teacher complex; thinking I’ll always have summer’s off and that I’ll just be a teacher if I can’t hack it in publishing after a few years. Then I remember that I’d rather be dead than deal with the brainless, hormonally charged little imps they call teenagers these days. After that thought, I tell myself over and over again that I just need one good book. One of my books will eventually get picked up and will be sold in stores and I’ll be set from there. Yup that’s my morning.
Speaking of books, I just finished Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights. It took me forever to read, mostly because I couldn’t get in the mood and the fact that it read a little dry in the beginning. Not to mention all of the characters’ names that started with “H.” After finally closing the back cover, I felt powerfully haunted. It was an amazing book. Lengthy, because Bronte included a whole other dark and twisted love story about the next generation, but nonetheless brilliant. Possibly one of the darkest romantic novels I have ever read. Not light summer reading, I know. But as I’ve told you before, I’m not normal. I don’t read normal things.
Completely contradicting that last statement, I am starting J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter. I read the first book when it originally came out and never got into it. Some of my friends are die-hard fans who know every inch of every page. Others simply enjoy it for the story. It’s British and from what I can tell, J.K. Rowling is the Shakespeare of our time. When I say Shakespeare, I mean to use the paralleled term loosely. So yes, the Harry Potter books are next on my list. No, I will not just watch the movies. Books turned into movies can be very interesting and entertaining. But the people who watch only the movies, well, they are the lazy, unimaginative idiots too dumb to play the story back in their own heads. I don’t care what any of you say, books will always win. Those who disagree and fight with me, get lumped into that lazy, unimaginative dope category I was talking about earlier.
After re-reading this post, I realize that I am chock full of more snark and negativity than I proudly display. Big deal. If you don’t like it, don’t read. If you disagree, I don’t care. In fact, I hope those of you reading this are from the major publishing houses that refuse to give me a job. I think you’ll find I make for an interesting interview. Until then, my summer, and the rest of my time off, will continue with as much reading and writing as I can pack into it. If you find my bleak yet comical outlook on life amusing, stay tuned. If not, cheers!
– The Duchess of New York