Happy Birthday?

If there's one thing I've yet to foster in my garden of personality it's a flourishing blossom of patience.
Frankly I doubt if I've even opened the packet of seeds.
It's most likely sitting on some dusty shelf right next to the rusting shears meant for use in trimming my vanity.

It's been one week since I moved to New York and already I feel like there's a pile of rocks in a gritty burlap sack nestled punishingly upon my shoulders.

The pressure I placed myself under upon first deciding to make this move was something entirely novel to me considering I'd never made such a decisive life alteration. But in the efforts of making my life fit my person the alteration was certainly expedient enough as to cause my urgent and direct action: thus the moderately short amount of time between the decision and the action itself.

And now the express train of the last two weeks has finally begun to slow and I feel slightly wobbly-legged like a freshly birthed giraffe.

My spotted, gooey, spindle-legged body has been drug through the process of interviewing on enough occasions in the last week to last me until my next birthday. But I'm far from through with it.

Since my last post I have spoken/interviewed with representatives from Sanford J. Greenburger and Associates, Inc, the Ace Hotel, Bella Vitae restaurant, and today marked my first visit to a temp agency (I can understand why they're referred to as "head-hunters", everyone working there had something of a savage and unquenchable desperation).

Forrest Solutions is located in a high rise near Times Square and the waiting room plays stage to the dreary dramas of weary wanderers from every imaginable background. One particular character was a pock-faced boy who looked to be no more than 18. He seemed slightly less eager than the others keeping quiet vigil in the employment offices. But at the same time he seemed to possess an enviable collection.

Modeling myself after this youth I somehow survived three rounds of clerical assessments and as many meetings with a woman named Gail whose bottom teeth resembled the brown crags of rocks posing a threat to shore-bound yachts.

That's not to say she was unpleasant in any way, just a bit abrasive in her floral sweater and deeply rouge lipstick.

Promising to be in touch about up-and-coming openings, Gail eventually released me to claim what was left of my birthday afternoon.

I'll be honest in saying I was a bit deflated by the time I departed the building but I was within walking distance of Stumptown and elected to reassure myself with the reminiscence of home.

And how I'm back the Bleecker flat, Drew's just arrived home, and we shall simply have to see what this evening will turn into given a little time.

It's been a strange birthday to say the least.
Thankfully I took the time last night to go and meet Jillian's best friend, Pedro, at his restaurant last night and he subsequently received a birthday glass of wine at midnight (maybe a little before). Todd met us after the place closed and we had one more drink at a local bar followed by a number of New York hot dogs and finally I turned in for the evening.

And thus began this strange day.
Oh, that it might end nicely.