It’s Time

In my suite, I’m probably considered the “odd-man-out.” I’m the only single girl, and of the girls in the suite, I guess I would be considered the “together” one. I have my own friends, my own activities, my own schedule; my world is not confined to those people I met freshman year, nor is it confined to the pastimes of those people around me, if I do not enjoy them (i.e excessive amounts of Magic and Guitar Hero). Granted, I do have my bad days and go on the occasional rant concerning a particularly nasty customer at Hillside or my internet-retarded computer, but for the most part I keep to myself and am certainly the least likely to “let loose” in a party situation or otherwise. Therefore, it would probably be a pretty accurate to assume that my roommate Ben has ever heard me squeal before. That is, until four days ago.

We were the only two in the suite—he was playing Guitar Hero in the lounge, and I was checking my e-mail in my room. (For some reason, my internet had decided to work at that particular moment in time. It is being particularly temperamental this semester.) Recently, I have been doing a lot of job-searching and resume-preparing, considering everything from how to go about selling myself to Random House to whether or not I wanted to continue through the recruitment process for Teach for America. In effect, I had completely forgotten that I had applied for the Time, Inc. summer internship program. I had applied to this program on somewhat of a crossed-fingers basis, because traditionally the program recruits college juniors, and I am—of course—a graduating senior. However, I am most certainly qualified for the position, and so I applied.

Well, to make a long story short, I got the job. Congratulations! read the e-mail. You have been selected out of over 600 applicants as one of our 47 Editorial Interns for summer 2008!

Yes, I squealed. I was just so excited! I mean, this takes a tremendous amount of pressure off of my shoulders for the next few months. Granted, it is only an internship, which means it will only employ me for June and July, but it will put me right in NYC, which means that I will be right there if (or hopefully, when) employers want to interview me. What’s more, the internship pays to house me in Columbia University’s summer dormitories, which gives me the perfect time, location, and financial cushioning to find a “real” NYC apartment.

On the semi-downside, I was not placed into any of my top three magazine choices. I will be working for This Old House magazine this summer, which seems from its website to be an interior decorating/fix-it-up type of magazine. (I will have to find and read a few copies sometime soon to get a better idea.) However, on the upside, I will get to work in the editorial department, which is the most important thing. And I will get to put Time Inc. on my resume—how impressive is that?!

Meanwhile, back in Rochester, I am beginning to do some freelance editing work for a fellow student. However, things have gotten more legally complicated than I had anticipated. Why can’t people just know what they want and spell it out clearly? I think the problem is that people simply don’t know what editors are for, or what they do. It’s a darned tough job, and certainly just as artful in terms of crafting the piece of work! So now I have to not only do the work of editing the student’s manuscript, I also have to edit the contract before I agree to it. Between that and all of the paperwork for the Time internship, I am simply drowning in legal technicalities!

Which brings me to my final point: I don’t know whether it is age or maturity or what, but the more time that passes and the closer to “independence” I believe I come, the more I discover that I rely on my parents. And it terrifies me. I have been back-and-forth with them over paperwork and decisions and terms and goodness-knows what else more than I care to admit. What is going to happen when they are no longer around? Sure, there are other people I could go to in order to ask questions, but they are my parents, and I am a priority to them. They answer my questions quickly and thoroughly because they care. I truly pity anyone who does not have such wonderful people in their life.

But parents cannot last forever. I am about to graduate college and get a job. When does the day come when all that knowledge magically transfers from them to me, and I become The Wise Self-Sufficient Adult?