In less than two weeks I'll be living in Brooklyn and interning at Marvel Comics. I have been attempting to not let either of these things freak me out. I have been failing in that attempt.
Once I get to New York, once I get settled at the apartment I'm staying at, once the internship actually starts, I know I'm going to be just fine. I mean, seriously, who else do you know who's more prepared for a job at Marvel?
It's the anticipation that's killing me. First I applied for the internship, which led to a crazy afternoon merry-go-round of tweets between myself and my soon-to-be boss, followed by my getting called in for an interview the following week, which led to my frantic pursuit of a button-down dress shirt and tie, and a train ticket, which became a bus ticket because the tracks were washed out due to torrential rain in Rhode Island.
After the interviews, it was another two weeks before I heard anything. Finally, on April 20, less than a month after I applied for the internship, I received the phone call: not only did Marvel want me to intern for them, two different departments wanted me. And it was up to me to choose which one.
It's been difficult to concentrate on much of anything since I got that phone call. The last few weeks of the semester seemed to crawl by. My head was absolutely not in the game. It's a wonder I managed to finish any of my final projects at all. But I did. And the semester finally ended last week and I've been sitting here, spinning my wheels, waiting for the internship to start.
So, here am I. Less than two weeks before my inner 10-year-old officially freaks the fuck out. And I can't stop thinking about how incredible this opportunity is, and how I've always seemed to screw up previous incredible opportunities. Granted, I don't think I've ever before had an opportunity that even comes close to this one. And I tell myself, and my friends tell me, I'm a different person now. I'm not the screw up who wasted the first half of his 20s. I busted my ass to finally finish undergrad. And while I seem to have worked significantly less hard here in Boston, I've finished two semesters of grad school with three A's and two A-minuses. The guy I was wouldn't have done so well, would have pissed it all away the first chance he got.
Despite my incessant, groundless fears about working at Marvel, I honestly cannot imagine being in a better place right now, physically and mentally. Emotionally, well, I'll always be a wreck in that department, so I'm trying to just not think too much about it.
But, if I really think about it, I'm actually doing pretty well there, too, in spite of the occasional bout of depression. So I'm in no position to complain.
But I do anyway.
Coming to Boston, to grad school, to this particular grad school, has probably been the best thing I've done for myself in a very long time, probably since deciding to finally finish that undergrad degree in the first place, which was, what, five years ago now?
Wow. Five years. It feels like a lifetime ago. It kind of was, I guess. Another life. My timeline is split now, between pre- and post-California. Who I was vs. who I am. And I know I whine and complain all the time, and my pessimism is unyielding, but if you were to catch me in an unguarded moment, I might actually admit to feeling pretty damn good about who I am and where I'm going. You'd probably have to ply me with alcohol first, though.
Seriously. Less than two weeks and I'll be at Marvel.