11.01.01 - 1:16 p.m.

Whee! I am being neglectful. As soon as I finish this, I am going to MOVE ALL MY STUFF IN. Finally. Finally. Hooray!

It is hard to maintain the stiff upper lip when eveyone you talk to tells you they'd rather have a candidate with at least a year of experience. More and more I think my entire graduate school experience was a waste. When even the temp people don't have faith in your abilities...it's just degrading, that's all. Even when you're wearing the awesome kickass professional black pants.

Speaking of temping, what follows is a transcription of my boredom while waiting for the phone to ring at King World on Tuesday.

Feel very inferior compared to all the others in the elevator with me - not so much the people at this office but all the imagined beautiful people at Town & Country and Harper's Bazaar. Overheard this conversation between elegant honey-blonde in scarf and willowy Gisele wannabe: "Oh, honey, you could model." (To other elegant well-dressed professional woman:) "Don't you think Fabianne should model?" Apparently has given Fabianne names of contacts - "Well, you call so-and-so and tell her I said hi and let me know how it goes." Of course, that could turn out the same as any of the 'contacts' I've received, but it seems so much...I don't know...more glamorous when you're talking about modeling and not grunt magazine work.

Why do I always feel twelve years old?

I don't mind the Path, I'm getting used to the subway, but I'm really obsessed with the Light Rail. And that's the one I never ride. It's just so futuristic and monorail-like and smooth, the way it glides past my window like a ghost. I love its swooshiness and the way it turns corners. O Light Rail! You rock my world.

So there you have it. That's what I think about when I'm temping. Now and without further ado - I must unpack.