From Klump Dump to Park Ave.

When I was about five years old, my mother and I lived in an apartment in North Hollywood on Klump Ave. We called it "Klump Dump," a name that should evoke numerous images.

It is in this apartment where I penned my first story. It was about St. Nick and how he became Santa Claus. I don't remember the details of the story, but I do remember the intense need to figure out who this fat fiction was and why he came with so much power. Anyways, back to Klump.

I was always aware of the world outside me, the world that was anywhere but Klump Dump. And I felt it was not for me. I felt I was destined for lateral mobility only. I only hoped that the apartments in my future would be located on streets with better names than "Klump." For some resaon, it was not until today that I was able to step outside of that mode of thinking.

Whether ambition is something I have is another issue for another time. But something I went ahead and did put a different kind of light on my world for the first time. After about a month of speculation, flattery, excitement, and anxiety, I got the phone call this afternoon.On the other end of the line was the woman who interviewed me, impressed with my resume. The woman who told me all along I was one of the stronger candidates. She told me she wanted to offer me the position. So, I'm the new copy editor for an online technology news site.

Thirty other people applied for the position, and about eight of them were under consideration (yes I had to ask). The minute I found out, I felt all of the tension ease up. But that was soon followed by a different kind of tension. Or anxiety. I had knots in my stomach for a couple of hours. I could barely break a smile.

Then it dawned on me. This week seems to be bigger than me right now. I will officially finish the thesis and graduate. And I was offered a job. And it's all good. I don't think any of it can be taken away, although I feel like that a little bit. At least I did. I think that's what the knots were about. I was in a daze, walking around the records office at work waiting for the air to be sucked out. Waiting for the bit of bad news. It's a strange feeling. I guess that actually came later, when I went to my advisor's house to pick up her corrections on my thesis and she hadn't left it for me.

Maybe I went too early. But maybe that was supposed to be the negative of the day. But after my initial disappointment, I realized that it just gives me another night to do what I've been calling the "fine-tooth comb" editing. It's all good. Right?

So this job. They have never had a dedicated copy editor. They are looking for someone to work with the copy in order to raise the quality of it to compete with technology media outlets like CNET.com and Ziff-Davis. Challenge? Hell yeah. And finally, one that I think I can meet.

Spending two years at the GF was great, but every single day I felt like I was always playing catch-up in a way. And now, I obtained a position that I actually know I can do, but that will take major work from me every day. And I'm excited. And it's a public company (so go buy stock in it! I think I get shares as one of my benefits.). I'm going in on Wednesday to finalize it and meet the editor-in-chief, which "is part of the job-offer process" according to my new supervisor.

I never thought I'd have a job like this in NYC, and here it is. I never thought I'd be able to live alone in NYC, but the possibility is now before me. I imagine it will happen within the year. And for now, I don't have to fear being homeless, something I've always feared for as long as I can remember. A job and a master's degree. In one week. Sweet. It makes handling the Spurs' breakdown a little easier. Later.