Day thirteen at this cracked out music television internship and I can’t seem to find a mode of normalcy. I’d like to think of myself as a fairly spontaneous adventure-seeking type. The every day conundrum, mundane schedules and habitual routine I follow during the school year tends to make me delirious and in need of a strong drink at 10 am (no, not coffee), but this was just insane.

All week I’d been running around Manhattan delivering costume jewelry or picking up edited music video reels, though some days staying in the office and making phone calls and writing e-mails (Not to James Franco, but to his agent’s agent). Needless to say, I was starting to crave a more conventional daily grind.

Today I was scheduled to help with a wardrobe fitting. Figuring I’d be pinning blouses to mannequins in some broke down warehouse. I wasn’t that bothered when my alarm didn’t go off and I was forced to shower quickly, neglecting my usual primping and hair straightening ritual. I’m Persian, and not one of those blessed Persians with the silky dark hair. I got the fro. The frizzy kind.

Rushed to make it to work on time, (Pierre, my very talented and very flamboyant boss would undoubtedly stick me with phone duty if I was even a minute late), I figured I could just pull it back in a wet bun and hide it under a hat from wardrobe. Read More »