Window Replacements

Today, I had an utter meltdown. I mean, serious complete, sobbing until I couldn't breathe. Then, I called my boyfriend Adam and picked a fight.

It all started with the window replacements. That's my job for the two weeks that I'm house-sitting (well, one of my jobs). The problem is, none of the companies want to talk to me if they know I'm just a lowly assistant. They will only deal with, as they term it, the "decision maker." I almost gave up a few days ago, but I gritted my teeth, made the appointments, put on my bougiest outfit (JCrew necklace, Gap sweater, and gold gladiator sandals) and tried to smile my way through the whole thing. No go. The first appointment was fine. The guy didn't seem to care who I was, and I merely said "thank you" every time he told me how much he love my house. (Yeah right, like I could afford a place like this.) The second guy was tougher. He started asking all these questions, like how long had I lived here, and what were my children's names (the window being replaced is in Stuart's daughter's room). I hit a brick wall. For some reason--I'm hoping it's a good one--I couldn't lie. I told him the truth. I'm just the assistant. He thought about it for a second. Then said, "Nope. Sorry, we're not interested."

I felt like I had just been dumped.

He gave me his business card, and told me to give him a call if I was ever authorized to make any purchases. I held it together, politely thanked him for coming, and waited to close the front door behind him before bursting into tears. Why? Because I felt like I had failed? Because it was a slap in the face to be refused like that? I'm still not sure. But, I can tell you it was grueling, and took two episodes of Sex and the City to gear up for the third appointment, which was completely uneventful, and made me feel a little better.

All this made me realize, though-- I need something more than a job to keep me going. It makes me feel ridiculous when I completely fall to pieces like that over something so small--a window. When I was in school, my grades kept me going. That was it--the coup de grace--the be-all, end-all of my self-esteem. Now, it's my job performance. Let's face it, I'm a perfectionist at heart, and I probably always will be. But maybe there's a better way to live my life, while still being perfect.

I'm going to have to think about this.

The California Project

I'm thinking Walden in Central/Westside LA. Here's the deal: three months as a summer intern in the heart of the film industry. Emily Mullin, almost entirely alone in the city of Los Angeles (with the exception of some very energetic relatives, and her grandmother), needs something to keep her from going completely insane. This is it.

The title? A melange (that's right, she's re-learning French) of The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin, and The Julie/Julia Project by Julia Powell. If everyone else can use the magic of the internet to revamp their lives, why can't she? She's going to stop writing in the third person very soon, she promises.

The details: She's working for two screenwriters. The rest of the summer is for her to figure out.

The Goal: Find happiness. Wherever that may be.