So, it appears that next week my life will take a turn for the busier. Instead of just moping at home during Helen's daycare days, wondering why editors aren't calling and trying to work on my novel, I will be heading into the big city and doing work at a Prominent Cultural Institution (PCI). You will notice that I did not say my life will take a turn for the flush-ier, or that we'd be able to afford to replace the leaky windows in our front room: this work is unpaid. Technically, it's for
students
. Undergraduates, even. However, when I was moaning to a friend about this--I'm 37 years old and taking an unpaid internship! what the hell am I thinking?--she counseled, wonderfully, that I shouldn't care about that. I should just take this for what it is, a great opportunity, and do it "with gusto and fun." That's the best advice I've had in a long time, so I'm going to do my best to live up to it.
Of course I have misgivings, which I'm going to confide to the ethersphere in an attempt to exorcise them. My biggest fear is that this will lead to nothing; or worse, some
other opportunity will come along while I've committed myself to this one and I'll have to pass on it. Or at least make a choice. I kind of hate making choices, especially when one side of the choice is "money and dullness" and the other side is "fun and poverty."
Other fears:
- This internship will lead to nothing, and will be an interesting but useless interlude.
- The awkwardness will never wear off; I'll be the 37-year-old unpaid make-work-er for eight uncomfortable weeks. Oh, hai. What do you have for me to do toDAY?
- The end will feel like the end of my last job before this one: I'll feel disappointed and not-chosen.
- I won't make connections, either for myself or others.
- I won't have any ideas; I'll just come in every day and sit obediently at my desk, and never do anything beyond what's asked of me.
- I'll have great ideas, but they won't catch fire: I won't be able to do anything with them, or convince others to pursue them (this is one of my life patterns. A BAD one, obv.)
But! I'll get to take the light rail every day (well, three times a week)! I'll get to go into the city, with my clippy-clop heels on; I'll get to feel like a part-time member of The Club, for a little. I have some wild hopes, too. I'm afraid to share those too much, but I'll lay one out: I hope this leads to me being in a position to help the people who are helping me now, by bringing me in.
