I’ve been kind of MIA lately because I’ve been busy job hunting and such. My Internship is over in early May so now it’s time for me to really start getting my shit together. I had an interview a couple of weeks ago that went well but I didn’t get. I also had an interview this week that went REALLY well but I haven’t heard back yet. I have an interview tomorrow that will be bananas if I get it. I have another interview that is no pay but is for a really interesting documentary. So things are looking up, lotsa irons in the fire and that.
I also have a lot of pictures I’ve taken while on my daily hoofing sessions around Santa Monica that I haven’t had the chance to post. I decided to forgo individually posting each picture because seriously that’s ridiculous and a lot of work. AND it’s not like anyone but me is sold on me doing it that way. *shrug*
Also, I’d like to tell you that I busted my ass like I’ve never busted my ass before yesterday. If you’re reading this, it’s likely you already know that shit because you know me and I posted it on Facebook and Twitter. I’ll break it down for you:
Here I am, walking in Santa Monica and minding my own damn business. I’ve got my brand-new running sneakers on that are supposed to equalize my stance. They’re supposed to help people who walk on the sides of their feet (and whose shoes always go crazy because of it). I don’t walk like that but it’s okay because the sneakers are not solely FOR that, it’s just a bonus-type situation. I’m talking on my phone to Kristyn, blandly walking back to work because my lunch hour is kaputsky. Out of nowhere, my right ankle just totally gives out. There was nothing to trip over, there was nothing I stepped off of, I wasn’t walking funny, nothing. I literally CRASHED into the ground. Face first, arms out, full body on the ground. Cell phone goes shooting out of my hand and skitters down the sidewalk. So dramatic. I seriously thought I broke my ankle and cracked my iPhone. I can hear Kristyn’s voice shouting “ARE YOU OKAY?! ARE….YOU….OKAY?!” in the background. There is a man walking down the street coming towards me. He is a cool guy on his cellie. We aren’t like CLOSE to each other but we’re definitely the only two people on the (residential) street and we’re walking toward each other. He sees me, I see him, there’s no getting around it. I am walking just fine and then do like a rag doll dramatic fall face first on the ground, arms flailing, phone shooting. I got myself up, inspected the damage (ankle is fine, cell phone not cracked, left shin possibly scraped) and get back on the horn with Kristyn. Apparently I told her I fell but failed to elaborate further in all the chaos because she was suprised to learn later that night that I’d fallen in such a spectacular fashion. She didn’t know that when she was screaming, “ARE YOU OKAY?!” that bitch was DOWN. She thought I turned my ankle and hobbled off. She didn’t know that I was eating dirt and that the phone was on a lawn ten feet away. Back to cool cellie guy. He saw me basically drop dead but didn’t rush to help me. He didn’t ask me if I was okay. When we got near, he didn’t say, “Awesome motor control” or any other wry-commentary. He didn’t even laugh. He just continued chatting on his cellie, going about his daily bidness. *shaking head* Not even a laugh? Not even a chuckle? In NJ or NY, people would have come out of their houses to inspect such a scene. People would be standing around telling tales of their own experiences face planting. Someone would have called me an asshole or at least made a fat joke. Another person would have been annoyed that my fall slowed them down in some inconceivable way. Either this guy ignored me because he didn’t want to embarrass me, or he didn’t care, or he didn’t notice, or he didn’t like the looks of me. I guess I’ll neva know…
Anyway, OH! Also, just this morning, Kristyn dropped me off at work and then came home to find six cop cars on our block, a police helicopter circling above, policemen on foot investigating our back yard and a man in the back of a cruiser. There aren’t many details yet but someone had a gun, the police can’t find it, maybe the man in the police car was the perp, no one knows. Guys, it is time to move out of Silver Lake or at least off this Indian Burial Ground block we live on. Blerg.