I sent an email and a copy of my resume (200kb pdf) to a local design company here in the city in response to an ad for a writer. The email I sent was carefree and smart-alecky and was not truly intended to garner a response. But (I am writing about it on here) they did…Respond. I meet with them tomorrow at 11:00 am.
I really don’t know what the fuck they do. Their description of themselves is either intentionally vague or so esoteric that only people in the ‘design’ industry …

I knew that all I needed to do was sleep on it. I woke up this morning dreaming of place settings and proper busing techniques and felt confident. Work was a dream tonight (only one bad moment) and I did well and I think it will all work out ok.
Plus, I have income. Money in my pocket.
I was actually afraid that I might not be able to do it. I’m relieved.
I don’t have anything interesting to say.

Work was a kicked my goddamned ass tonight. I feel like I’m so out of my element here. I feel like a fraud and because I feel like I’m failing I want to say, “Fuck those people and their wine and their osso buco and their perfect smiles and their silverware placement.”
Jesus Christ.
I’m angry and frustrated and overreacting. They think I’m doing fine and it was only my third day and every day it will get better and better and everyday I will continue to write run-on sentences strung together …