Between 8th Ave and Limbo

With every passing day I find myself losing hope in the city that never sleeps. I have been scammed. The CITY that I once fantasized chewed me up and spat me out like used gum.

Hope is quickly running out and my bank account is close to running on empty. I have resorted to making a Starbucks between 8th and 7th my home office although I have only bought one "Dirty Chai" for $4.29. Sephora has become my new place for touch-ups before interviews (a girl can't go wrong with free make-up samples), and the steps in front of the Post Office have become my permanent hang-out. I guess the only positive aspect of this whole situation has been losing weight, since I don't eat lunch.

I haven't even found a job and all the hustle and bustle of the city, plus the one and a half hour commute each way is starting to deteriorate all the good vibes I had accumulated back in Europe. Everyone has somewhere to go, somewhere to be. Women in high-heels and their Chanel bags viciously push me aside while at the same time I run into standing tourists who stop in the middle of the sidewalk to appreciate the Chrysler Building and ask me about which is the correct way to Times Square. *sigh* To be a tourist and not have to worry about the stress back at the Starbucks office! Ignorance is bliss...

I sit at my corner office (literally in a corner that blocks the cash register's view) and scroll through pages of unattainable jobs, all at the same time trying to avoid the Manager who definitely knows who I am by this point. The cheapskate who doesn't order anything, ever, and who only sits at the same table on the same chair facing the same way and uses the free-access internet. I fear that next week there will be a picture of me with a striked circle on the window forbidding my entrance to the establishment.

But alas, I will pretend to drink my steaming Venti Caramel Macchiato and read through the posts on Craigslist in the hopes of finding something.

Till then, like Dori says, "Just keep swimming."