Time flies

when you're having fun. Or so they say. I've been bad--downright horrible--about this blog and I feel as if it is already approaching the end of its short-lived life. This is a desperate attempt to keep it afloat, for a little while more at least.

I have been meeting up with many more friends in the past week. It's been great. Visited a few bars, ate at more than a few restaurants, thus--along with a blinding amount of clothes shopping, though my materialistic wants have yet to be fully satiated--ruthlessly decimating my bank account. Not to mention that I'm as of now out of a babysitting job, due to a heart-wringing session last Thursday during which the kid cried and tried to make herself puke as she called out for her mommy, who was out for dinner with daddy. They both rushed back and I got to leave early (I was paid extra), but the phone message the mommy left me yesterday indicated that we're currently "on a break". Meaning my source of extra cash is no more. Meaning 'tis time to return some clothes I recklessly bought in previous weeks.

My two suitemates in the room next door are both from UMich, very friendly, very nice. Both i-bankers, with banking friends in the area. I don't know a single other person on my floor who isn't working at a bank this summer. Those I've met seem like cool people, but it is nonetheless sad. Must try extra hard (i.e. harder than I do at Penn) to keep the inferiority complex from resurfacing and ruining my summer. Have to keep reminding myself that yes, despite their little cocktail parties, corporate credit cards, free rides home, free dinners, country club events, and fat paycheques larger than the size of my ass and stomach combined during finals week--yes, despite all this, they are working insane hours, they are staring at Excel spreadsheets, they are doing something that means nothing to me and that I wouldn't enjoy even if the job fell into my lap. Yeah. What I'd wanted to say was that it was funny to hear them talk amongst themselves about Wharton (apparently every firm has a huge proportion of kids at Wharton, surprise surprise) seemingly with a degree of admiration. I felt some school pride for a nano-second before I remembered that I am not, indeed, in Wharton. This culture--business, banking--is something I've been trying to avoid the past three years, yet here I am being hit left and right in the face with exactly these people, and trying to make friends with them. Because, really, they're nice people and we just have different ideals.

Speaking of work, my internship began on Monday. I love it. Maybe it was the copious amounts of brainwashing during orientation and a "town meeting" in which the CEO spoke about the company, but Random House is a great company and an awesome place to work. The blend of corporate with artistic/literary license really shows through and everyone does seem passionate about what they do. My supervisors are great and it's a treat hearing them talk about "their" books. Children's Books is cool as hell. Some people wear jeans here. I now have about 50 new books on my to-read list. My cubicle has a sliding door. (Though I'd feel real shady about keeping it closed, so I don't.) Free books congregate in stacks like unwanted gold throughout the beautiful 25-floor part of the building (not counting the mad-expensive condos above us). Most of the other interns I've met so far seem like fun and chill people.

I am--dare I say this?--happy. For now. Perhaps serene and contented. I still love the city, and my unlimited ride Metrocard. Holla.