My first foray into music journalism.

It's my second day at SE Perf0rmer, and my opinion of this job is by no means fully formed. The R key on the intern computer's keyboard sticks, a fact I became acquainted with during my first five minutes on the job yesterday morning. By 10:06, I knew my first obstacle. This afternoon, I found an old iMac in the closet behind my desk, the blue translucent kind where the monitor had a handle on top, presumably by which to haul it around, periferals and all. I always thought that particular design element was a bit bizarre...until I had to do that very thing with one for yearbook camp (I know) the summer before my senior year in high school...kinda came in handy...nevermind. So I found this old iMac. It boasted a stained and crust-covered, but functional keyboard, which I have just switched with the other one so that I may be unencumbered as I search for endless indie music news events in other southeastern cities, largely unsuccessfully. I have questions instead about whether it is sanitary.

The office is sunnier than any I have had at an internship so far. I inhabit the interior room, of course, but my desk still faces a ceiling-high, three-panel window with record label and show posters taped haphazardly across it. The bucket of unlisted CD submissions glints in the afternoon light in front of me. Between myself and the window, things are positioned thus: me, my knee against the crappy metal-and-particle-board '70's style desk, my americano from the nasty coffee shop next to Five P0ints Pizza, wires (among them an iPod hookup from some past intern's unnamed iPod), blue bucket of aforementioned CDs, computer monitor (the hulking old kind that's off-white and covered in post-it notes), windowsill complete with stacks of back issues of the magazine and writers' manuals, window. It all strikes me as exceedingly predictable (I knew I was going to work for a music rag that wouldn't pay me...not the richest or most glamorous position). Every time I walk into my editor's office I notice a push pin that's been stuck into the carpet at an unlikely angle and that no one has bothered to pick up. And yet......this editor is passionate about what I'm passionate about. She lights up just like me.

I really like it here. I like that I have anything to do with music. I like that I'm in an office in L1ttle Five, right above an Indian restaurant. I like that I have my own space and that the walls are littered with covers of previous issues. I could be ok with this.