Disenchantment in the Age of Enlightenment

I want to be 18 again. Not because I loved college (I NEVER want to suffer through an Ithaca winter again!), but because I knew what I wanted to do with my life. I had a goal, career path, and job that I really loved. I already had two years experience under my belt and I was only 18.

Now I'm 25, I have even more experience under my belt, have deviated away from my initial career path--not because I didn't like it, but because there weren't any jobs that gave me health insurance--and don't know what the hell I want to do. I know what I like (hard work, risk, creativity, encouragement) and what I don't (a paycheck under $40,000/yr.), but that sort of leaves me either overqualified for entry-level positions, but under-qualified for anything above the $35,000 bracket. How's a girl to win? New York is supposed to be a city that never sleeps, takes gambles and risks on things like the stock market and cable TV, but yet I can't find someone to take a gamble and hire me. Why is this so damn hard? Here's a list of the craziest offers I've ever received:

1) Entry-level job at big corporate media company: $31,000+benefits (sit in cubicle all day and use computer. No break. (I actually took this offer)

2) $600/week, no benefits, desk, office, computer etc, working for indie producer (I took this offer too, spent three months sitting on a couch reading, and hated it)

3) $15,000/yr. no benefits, no overtime, but would be expected to work overtime. I laughed, thanked them for the offer, and promptly hung up.

4) $55,000/yr full benefits, dental, paid vacation (3 weeks), as an assistant to a powerhouse publisher. It turned out they were crazy. I was warned by several people to expect my phones to be tapped, mental and verbal abuse, and possible physical side effects to occur. (I decided this wouldn't be a wise move. I was harassed for 4 days by said company after turning down the offer, and had to screened calls for a week).

5) $30,000/yr, benefits, no over time (but 18 hour days expected, 6 days/week) no lunch or pee break (I kid you not). Massive amounts of verbal abuse. 20 page confidentiality agreement. Lots of damage control to be done. (I reluctantly took the position, but they decided to re-neg and hired internally at the 11th hour...literally 11 hours before I was to start working). And no, this wasn't for Scott Rudin.

I could keep going, but you might think I'm crazy for passing these opportunities up. I know people would kill for them, but most of these jobs would kill you first. The way I look at it, I've saved myself many ulcers, acid reflux issues, massive therapy bills, loss of sleep, and loss of mind. I always thought there would be some sort of middle ground here, like those movies where the editor takes a gamble on a bright, talented, young-but-naive journalist who hits it big with the scoop of the decade, and gets the man. What happened to that ideal life?

Risks, gamble, whatever you call it, at eighteen, it all seemed possible. Maybe it's not age at all, maybe all I need is to move to Vegas.