My Year Of Everything

They told me the top ten finalists would be notified by midnight on Tuesday, so I called in sick Tuesday as well. 

Here are some things that went through my mind in that two-day period:

• What am I doing?
• If I get this job, will I actually live in the MTV Beach House over the summer? 
• If I actually make it to the top ten finalists, and this thing actually is televised, how long will it take before the people at my job find out this is why I called in sick? 
• Will there be some kind of chore wheel at the MTV Beach House?
• When do I get to meet Kevin Seal? 
• Jesus, no: obviously the MTV Beach House will have a cleaning staff. 
• Carson Daly and I are almost definitely going to be boyfriends. 
• Seriously, what am I doing? 
• Is there some kind of yearbook or phone chain or newsletter that connects the VJ community, like there is for the SNL cast in my fantasy world? 

On Tuesday evening, my roommates were both away on business, so I ordered a pizza*, got a bottle of wine**, rented Wim Wenders’ “Wings Of Desire***” and waited for the phone to ring. 

And at 11:55pm, I pretty much gave up hope. I finished off the red, opened my IBM ThinkPad and tapped out this journal entry, which I will save forever:

“Tuesday, April 14, 1998

11:56pm

They didn’t call. And I’m disappointed, of course, but I got a look through a window at the life that I want yesterday- all those people working hard at something they love- and I have to get in there. Maybe not there there, but closer. Life is short, and I can’t spend another day doing something I don’t care about. It’s time for me to”

And then at exactly 12:01am, the phone rang. 

* And remember, these were the days before the Domino’s PizzaTracker, so we’re talking about 30 minutes of uncertainty here.

** A varietal I knew at the time as “red.”

*** Because even when you’re waiting to hear the results of an open call to be an MTV VJ, it’s never the wrong time to be a pretentious jackass.