Work. Work. Work. Monday, Thursday, and Friday I compose copy for my travel writing internship nine to five. Tuesday and Wednesday I so research and run errands for my indie movie distribution internship ten to six. I also put together copy, organize their Facebook, and “Tweet” for my beer company internship in my off hours. Oh, and I’ve picked up an actual paying gig with the city I used to work for in California, which is cool, but it just means that when I get off work here I’m on their time composing press releases, writing copy for brochures, etc. etc. I haven’t really had that much time for my own writing, but I am starting to work on ways to sneak it in. I just really wish I had some friends out here, because when things get rough I don’t really have anyone to talk to. I guess I should pour all that energy into writing, but as much as I want to think of writing as a dialogue with the reader, it’s so far removed that it doesn’t really seem to seem to help on a lonely Friday night. So far I have been going to a lot of art galleries and free indie movies. I don’t have a lot of money, and what I have is rapidly disappearing, so I have to be a little cleaver in seeking out things to do. Sometimes I just walk around in the park. Sometimes I get take-out in a cheap restaurant and walk around watching the street performers in Times Square. Sometimes, well, I don’t know what to do. I tried making friends at bars or clubs, but most of the social connections you make in situations like that tend to just like going out, and as I said, I’m kinda getting poor. Maybe I should make a club. It’ll be the: “late-twenty-somethings-don’t-really-have-it-together-don’t-have-a-career-and-don’t-have-any-money-but-aren’t-living-with-their-mothers-(anymore)-club.” I mean, where all the other people out there like me? Unfortunately, I’ll probably never meet most of them because they are at home wondering the same thing. -Mark Jordan 157 | 
