I had a job interview a few weeks ago and was told that the position didn't currently exist, but when it did, I would get the call. It meant a new career in graphic design, at least to the extent of my abilities. Patti said I got “news” from the company in the form of a thin envelope. “Thin is never good,” I said.

“I know,” she replied. “I held it up to the light.”

When I was in 6th grade, the local news taped a segment about my school's financial project in which students bought and sold pretend stock to teach us about money. I have a sound bite while wearing a Miami Vice jacket that goes, "I want to make good money at what I want to do and I want to reach that goal of what I want to do."

I'm 31 years old and I answer phones and file documents for a living. I was supposed to have been an author, vending machine entrepreneur or whatever would potentially get me out of this slump a long time ago. But temporary jobs are seldom temporary in my life. I think I'm going to give up and roll out of my work chair onto the floor. Somebody bring me food when I yell that I'm hungry.