Shiny new fork in the road

I never thought that I would be happy about leaving the Delmartment. But I am.

I never thought I would enjoy having all my possessions packed in unmarked boxes and strewn about a new apartment. But I do.

I can't find anything I need, I'm constantly running from one box to the other and my brother often sits in his room and watches me go back and forth in front of his door. One way, empty-handed, then back the other way with a table lamp. Pass by again, then back with my plant. He laughed when I held his old roommates toilet brush with the tips of my fingers as I ran to the trash can.

I like this moment. I can feel that this is the beginning of another chapter in my life. I'll be making a life-changing decision after the holidays and I'm ready for it.

The Elite

There exists an untouchable world, in which everyone who resides is elite. This mystical place is visible to outsiders, yet it fizzles away like a hallucination just as one thinks they are close enough to touch the glittery gates. An average person can see from the outside that the citizens of this other world are magnificent. Fabrics of the finest spun silks, swirl around them like smoke; engulfing their chambers and thrones in smooth fibers. When they walk around us, they seem to float, never lowering their heads even to take a step as the crowds part for them. They are artists, and perfect combinations of colors melt off the pens they hold in their hands, their vision is reality.

Jealousy, envy and awe follow in their path and eager young scholars strive to be like them. Yet hard work and desire alone won't get one entrance into this transcendental universe... you must stumble upon an unmarked path, be blessed with a latent sense of direction and above all; accepted by a resident. Only those who dwell in this world, can bring in another.

Those who dwell here are called interior designers... and I wanted to be one.

I didn't collide with any hidden path. I mapped courses out on a form with a college counselor, then shriveled into the corners of my classes. While I scratched the basics of design onto project boards, my peers performed alchemy on paper. Hot drops of embarrassment and failure ran down my cheeks at presentation time and it wasn't until my final two years that I finally felt proud of my work.

My blind groping continued when I became an intern for a designer, who was short an assistant. Somehow, I held the job longer than both the designer and myself expected. And with the entire planet watching their investments crumble, the designer became frustrated at her own charity and turned my days into hell. She refused to bring me into the design world, and flung me towards the hordes of the unemployed.

I was blessed, not with an innate design sight, but with a job. It was my belief then, that I didn't need to be guided into the design world. I thought I could just walk right in, and I was wrong.

The truth is sharp, yet it has numbed me. I look at a beautiful room, full of inspiration and I feel nothing. I can appreciate the nuances of a well-designed space; the hidden treasures and the bold focal points, yet I'm cold towards it. Nobody tells you that to try and walk through the boundaries of this esoteric world, will leave you beaten.

My choices now are to either take leave and search out another, more accepting, universe or stand up and try again the right way. But having seen design from the bottom, I'm unsure if I even want to be up there anymore.

Carmen can't breathe

Or is it me that's suffocating?

Last week, I found the perfect job on a Craigslist post. It's a 'Carmen list' job, too: Freelance journalist for an interior design/architecture magazine. The ideal candidate would need to have contacts in the industry and be able to find new and/or interesting projects to do stories about every month. Holy, Up-My-Alley, Batman!

I applied as soon as I could, but I realized that the post had already been deleted from Craigslist. I was only able to send my resume because I had emailed myself the address. I'm not even sure it went through... it's been 3 days and I haven't heard anything yet. I keep checking to see if the position has been re-posted, but it hasn't.

Somebody else has my job.

Oh, and the designer down the street asked if I would intern for him. However, it's an unpaid position and I'm barely getting by as it is, working 40 hrs/week with pay. I think he knew this because of the look he gave me. He followed up with, "You want out of here, huh?"

Where's 'here'?

I don't even know what to say anymore.