Up early, and out the door around 8 a.m. for my interview with The Clubhouse. I almost pissed my pants in the car on the way downtown. I was going to pee in an alley once I finally parked the car, but couldn’t find a good enough spot. Also, the parking meter was out of order, so I gave up on trying to pay for a space amidst my bladder panic. Note to self: don’t drink two liters of water, and then sit in two hours’ worth of rush hour traffic.

I made it to The Clubhouse on time. After interrupting the Concierge’s introduction so I could use the bathroom and reenact a scene from Austin Powers: International Man of Mystery, I returned to the front desk and was given a three-page application to fill out. I’m not even kidding. This thing had four fucking long ass questions, each of which I was instructed to complete in “essay form.” It was too early for that shit!

I took my sweet ass time filling out the exam. After checking in on me twice, I finally handed my booklet back to the front desk guy, and we talked about the position. I can’t remember his name right now. Regardless, the guy said that he would want me to work two to three days per week at the front desk, as a part of my combo role. The other half of my week would be spent working in an office with Robyn.

Naturally, I asked a bunch of questions about the front desk part of the job. It seemed fairly straightforward. Over the years, I’ve learned that people often like to make their jobs out to be a bit more stressful than they really are. We aren’t curing cancer here, people. You’re checking people into a private club, and confirming dinner reservations. Calm down.

After that, I had my second interview with Robyn. We talked for quite a while. Robyn explained that the office side of the position was basically still being formed, and that she didn’t have a formal job description to give me. Nonetheless, Robyn thought that I would be the best fit for the position.

“You have a good combination of experience that would serve both the back-end office work, and the front-end customer service parts of the role quite well,” Robyn said.

My position would be a “Member Relations” role, and Robyn offered me the job on the spot.

I hesitated. I told Robyn that I would need time to think about her offer. Not only had The Clubhouse offered me a salary of $4K less than I had asked for during my initial interview – which was quite the blow itself – but the lack of a documented job description concerned me. I’d basically be signing up for a job that The Clubhouse could change as they pleased.

I don’t know what the fuck to do. I guess this is good news? I keep wanting there to be this “fireworks” moment when I get a job, but it seems as though I’m running out of options here. I feel slightly pressured to accept the position. Fortunately, I’ll have some time to make a decision. After raising my concerns, Robyn said that she could provide me with a formal job description and written offer, but not until next week. Hopefully, by then, The Toronto Film Group will have gotten back to me with their decision on the events contract.

I don’t know what came over me, but I lied during my interview with Robyn. It wasn’t even anything worth lying about, though! While answering one of Robyn’s questions, I had casually mentioned something about my brother.

“Oh, is it just the two of you?” Robyn asked.

“No,” I responded confidently. “I’m the middle sibling of five children.”

My mind went blank in that moment. I just blurted it out! Originally, I thought that if I told Robyn I had multiple siblings, it would make me seem responsible. However, I failed to make myself the oldest of the Brady Bunch, which was the whole point of the lie in the first place! By the time I realized what I had said, it was too late.

Of course, Robyn then gave me the third degree on my “siblings.” I had to keep lying! Now, I have two older sisters and two younger brothers, which, if I accept the job offer, I’m going to have to continue making up stories about. Shit. Why didn’t I just stick to my original plan of telling Robyn that I was a competitive figure skater! Stupid.

I returned to my car after the interview, which now had a bright yellow parking ticket slapped to the windshield. Great. After that, I drove straight to The Store from downtown, and worked my last shift with them for a while. I did my thing from 12:30 p.m. to 5 p.m., and then drove home to Casa Z. I ate a bunch of food, watched the hilarious Mariah Carey Watch What Happens Live interview again, and then took a nap. Later, I hit the gym, showered, and crawled into bed.

I checked in with Bryan today. There weren’t any awkward moments, which was fortunate, considering we didn’t talk at all yesterday. It’s not just Bryan that I’m avoiding. I really don’t want to talk to anyone right now. I don’t want to respond to emails. I don’t want to talk to friends. I just want to live in isolation for a little while.

To be quite honest, I am really looking forward to my foot surgery tomorrow. My lengthy recovery will give me the perfect excuse to take drugs and not do anything. It’s different when I take a pill, hit a bong, or miss a day of exercise because I’m lazy. When that happens, I get really mad at myself. More disappointed, I guess. In those moments, I’m forced to face the reality that I can’t even bring myself to do something as simple as exercise or apply to jobs, even though my days are relatively empty compared to the majority of those in the workforce.

I keep thinking about the idea of that “fresh start.” I love the feeling I get when nobody knows my history. I think that’s why I enjoy traveling alone so much. Nobody knows me when I visit a new city. I don’t have a reputation, or something that people expect from me. I get to write my own story. Ironically, after a certain amount of time, I always end up back to “Kurt.” I don’t think you can ever fully hide your true self. At least, I can’t. But, it’s sure fun while it lasts.

I want a fresh start. I’m craving that feeling. That feeling of people being so interested in you. You’re new, you’re fresh, and they want to learn more about you. They want your story. They want the scoop! I think that’s why I like dating new people, too. There’s always such a rush at the beginning. But, then it fades. However, typically it’s me that gets tired of the other person, even if they’re still looking to learn more about me.

People bore me. I want to find a Prince Eric who can show me things that I’ve never seen before. I don’t want a guy to give me my legs. I can do that by myself. I want someone to help me learn to use those legs, though. I just want to be a princess, really.

Goodnight xo