OK...I'm getting pretty despondent about the paper in the desert. Yesterday was MLK day, so who knows how that impacted the editorial staff. Today's the day after MLK day - ditto. But still, today I've left two pairs of brief, friendly messages with my two contacts, one pair early in the AM and another late around 5PM, and I haven't heard back since last Wednesday, when they told me they "fully intended" on making an offer.

What the fuck is going on?

Why won't they at least call back? Even to say things are still in limbo??

I mean, if they weren't gonna hire me...wouldn't I have heard that by now?

But still, to abruptly go silent...I mean, it's a complete 180 and it makes no sense. Something's up. Right? Look, look: I know. I'm sitting around with nothing else to do than read into things waay too much. But factor in my Shining-esque stir-craziness and it's still pretty strange, you have to admit. Monday before last, during the interview(s), the guy kept repeating how he'd be in touch and wouldn't linger.


******************************************************************************************


After leaving the 5PM messages, I go to brood - I pull out my guitar and start playing an accoustic version of "Message in a Bottle." A couple of minutes later my cell phone rings in the other room. I bolt for it, and the number has a 213 area code. Huh?

Strange timing. Calling out of the blue is another local publication, where as an afterthought I submitted my resume more than two weeks ago. The editor on the other end sounds sort of strange and manic, and once again I find myself answering questions that are becoming damn familiar, even predictable. "Yes, I know my cover letter talks about jumping out of helicopters, close explosions, and getting ambushed in Venezuela, but trust me I'm not expecting any of that." ... "Yes, I realize this assignment would be totally different."

Then he throws out an interesting line: "Well I'm sure everyone's asked you the same thing about your resume."

"What's that?" I ask, curious. Nobody's asked the same thing about my resume.


"The multiple cities."


"...?"


"You've really bounced around in the last year - Chicago, DC, Venezuela...I mean, you haven't stayed in the same place much. What assurances can you give that you're not gonna want to move in another three months?"


"Wow," I think. "Just, wow." You browse my resume, and it's no secret that a.) I've been in J-school for the past year and a half, and b.) all of that bouncing around cities was just part of the program. "He does realize I was in grad school, right?" I think, as I begin to explain in simple terms. When I realize he did get that I was a grad student and hence all the travel, well...there's no such thing as a stupid question, right? Right?

Anyways, so I have an interview there tomorrow. Which is cool, but I honestly don't think I'm that interested - if I was, I would have taken the God's Country Business Journal offer.

I'm dead-set on the paper in the desert.

Again, the dating parallels to this whole gad-awful nerve-wracking experience are uncanny. You spend all day waiting for them to call. Why won't they call? The phone rings and you immediately sprint and dive for it and it's someone else and your heart sinks. And that person only further reminds you how much you wish it were the other person on the line. But you agree to meet up with them anyways - you know, just to take your mind off of things, to go through the motions, even if your heart is somewhere else.

I really hope the paper in the desert calls back soon. Why does everyone play these games at the beginning? Why can't we all just say, "I like you, you like me - let's go home together and make a baby"??




[banging head against key-$%*& #$^$&$ F&^F@# %&Y#$.......]