...pulling my hair out in my hotel room and wondering why i'm even here. i got flown out here by a company interested in having me write their president's autobiography.[as in, a book]. i answered an ad they ran looking for a writer with knowledge of the liquor industry, which i have. turns out the head of the company, an eccentric gazillionaire [why am i always getting hooked in with eccentric gazillionaires?] wants someone to pen his memoirs. so they flew me out here, and here's how my interview went: Enter mansion, remove overcoat. [greeted by personal staff] "Mr. _______ will see you now. His bedroom is two doors down on the left." [bedroom??!] I enter said bedroom, and there is Mr. ______, all 84 years of him, propped up in a hospital bed, and smoking a cigar. a picasso, a chagall and a klimt [the real deals] are hanging askew above his bed. I take a closer look to make sure he is breathing. "Hello, Mr. ______. A pleasure to meet you. Thank you for inviting me here." "Yah. You know, we had 198 applications, and you are one of two people I asked to see. " "Well, thank you. I feel honored." "Yah. What'd you score on your SATs?" [me, obviously dumbfounded. i barely scored 800, if i recall correctly.] "Ah... that's so long ago! I believe around 1200 or 1300. Yes, that's about right." "Yah. Well, if you'd have scored 1600, you'd remember, right?" "Yah." "Do you know who made that hanging thing over there? [points to glass mobile above the wetbar in his bedroom]. "Ahhhhh..." "Who's the most famous modern mobile artist? Who?" "Ahhhhhh..." "It's an original by [I still don't remember the artist's name, even though Mr. ____ said it twice]" "Mmmm. It's beautiful. [dang! why didn't i study art history????] "Yah. Ok... Jeff! Take her outside. Have her look over the first two chapters of the book and see what she can do. Goodbye. Nice meeting you." And that was my interview. Jeff the assistant then escorts me to the infinity pool and hands me two chapters of a manuscript. i stare at it, and am overcome by the urge to run away. i am tired, cold [it's chilly in the mountains], jetlagged and have to pee. and the manuscript is really bad. i want to cry. Instead I say, "You know... there are a lot of things I'd like to discuss about these chapters, but i'd like to talk them over with Mr. _____. He's sleeping now, so maybe it's best if I take this to my hotel room and mull it over there." Blah, blah, blah, and they drive me to the hotel, where I proceed to whig out. This job is one of those weird professional/personal type of arrangements where you work for/are owned by/an eccentric zillionaire, who pays you a lot of money but drives you nuts. the big downside [and upside, too], is that it's 8 months in california, and 4 months in new york. which means i'd be away from my man of 8 years, for 8 months. two weeks ago, when i got the call, i thought it would be cool to live on both coasts, and seeing as i've seen my boyfriend every single day for 8 years, and almost 24 hours a day for the past 3 years that i lost my job, it would be a nice healthy separation. and the money would be good, so i could visit ny once a month. but i didn't expect that i'd miss him as much as i do. and it's only been a day. and i definitely did not expect to be asked to write 2 book chapters with no notification, while i am jetlagged. my ass's been up since 3 a.m. east coast time. i have no ideas!!!! on top of this, i don't like the hotel i'm in. it's separate units that face the street directly, and i don't feel safe. i like to be in an enclosed building with a concierge. i feel like anyone could break in my room. but the bigger problem is i gotta write two chapters now. i'm eternally grateful the room has internet access, coz i felt so alone after the meeting. i feel like a real p*ssy for having all these doubts and fears, but it really was a weird trial by fire, so to speak. i called my dad and he told me to be strong and get the job done, and to not be a p*ssy about it, that i'd be fine, and that i've always wanted to write a book, so why am i whining now? well, he didn't say it quite that way, but close. so i just needed to spew coz i needed to connect with something that felt familiar. i'm sure i'll write the chapters, at least one. but i'm really tired and overwhelmed. it's not just the no sleep, but the bigger issue of relocating, doing something very different, and taking a risk vs. doing what's safe. i honestly never thought i was such a scaredy cat. TALK SOME SENSE INTO ME!!!! oysh. i'm rambling.