Self-Indulgent Rambling

Tomorrow will be a better day than this one. Can't be any worse. And tomorrow I find out if I will be spending another year (at least) in this great state that led the way on banning the gays from enjoying normal legal protections. By a huge margin (but thank God for the courts). Southern Decadence should boycott us next year and head to Massachusetts or California. Yes, I'm aware that those places are not one tenth the fun of New Orleans. And they don't desperately need tourism dollars the way we do. Whatever.

But when I'm not driving or attempting to buy something, or, God forbid, trying to order french fries at McDonald's of all places, I really do love this crazy city. A week in Washington D.C. reminded me of that. Sure, the folks in Washington are sane and thoughtful and socially progressive (I'm talking about the people, not the politicians, folks). And they are even a bit less homicidally rude than the people here. But they are also incredibly boring. The city has no pulse, especially at night. No rowdiness, no character, no grit. And most importantly, no dive bars. Can I really make a place where people feel the need to wear ties to bars my home? Maybe I could have before I lived here.

Great things about D.C.: The jobs. I applied for two jobs. One of them working as PAC coordinator and admin assist to the VP in charge of governmental affairs at a lovely office located exactly one block from the White House. The other job involved working for a bi-partisan lobbying firm that deals a lot with trade issues and represents some Latin American countries. It couldn't be more up my alley.
Other jobs I may be qualified for: editorial assistant at the liberal American Prospect magazine. Administrative coordinator for the Caribbean and Central America Association, a trade group that promotes economic justice. Junior account executive at a small PR firm that deals only with socially progressive issues and represents organizations like Planned Parenthood. These jobs are almost too good to be true. Can it really be worth it to move to a place with no heart and 600-square-feet houses that start at $300,000? Just to have a shot at the most gratifying and stimulating jobs in the universe? (This looks better on paper, but feels impossible after spending a miserable and lonely week in the city).

As luck would have it, I don't need to make that decision right this second. I have stumbled upon an actual interesting and cool job right here in Slackerville. Sure, it doesn't pay worth shit, and offers no benefits...but it's nice being happy. Right?