Still, I'm loving it. Working for a literary magazine is just what I'd hoped to be doing this year, and right now, being able to pour myself into this work is a good distraction. I'm fascinated by all parts of the process, from the littler tasks (addressing the new issue to fans in Azerbaijan) to the big ones (reading through some of the 1,000 submissions the journal receives monthly.) The editors have been wonderful to me; so far, it seems to be a good fit.
On the third floor, I have an office of sorts, an octagonal room with two desks and a spinning chair and many crates full of submitted stories. Usually I'm spread out on the floor, digging through a box or two of manila envelopes. The internship is unpaid, but there are lots of perks: focaccia and brownies in reception, a room of free books, and the occasional celeb sighting, as the magazine is connected to a film company.
The first few weeks of this year have been very surreal. I've fallen behind on many domestic duties, such as general straightening-up and grocery shopping. In fridge:
2) Nora's Tecates
3) one half burrito
At least its exterior looks presentable...