Day before yesterday, I went to a job interview. The writer/producer, Daniel, for whom I've been doing research, recommended me for a receptionist job with his manager. It's a low-paying "Industry" entry-level job, justifying (justifiably) it's low pay with the incredible opportunity for meeting people from every level of the game. The two-going-on-three-person company encourages their receptionist to chat with the clients, get coffee, form friendships.

There's also the possiblity (maybe (possibly)) of working for Daniel as an assistant on a new show for a cable channel. He assured me that if I get the receptionist gig, he will steal me away if the show gets made, and he winds up needing an assistant. If (if (if)).

I cobbled together an interview outfit, realizing the travel shirt I bought recently would work for an office -- a good thing, since I own absolutely no other button-downs, and my shopping muscles are exhausted from a multi-day hunt for a dress to wear to two weddings, this coming weekend.

I arranged the clothes carefully on hangers, used one of Mark's work shirt bags to cover them, and attached them to my backpack.

After stopping at Whole Paycheck and eating a huge salad way too fast, I went to City Yoga to meet up with Celia, the new friend who introduced me to acroyoga. We did a little partner stretching, and then she flew me for a little while, while we discussed her impending trip to Venezuela, for 2 years and 3 months, for the Peace Corps.

45 minutes later began The Practice, with Noah Mazé. The silliest, most challenging yoga class I've ever taken. And the only one I've attended where I'm decidedly at the bottom of the pile. When he named some poses I hadn't been able to do 3 months ago, I moved to the wall for balance, but discovered I could do them easily, and moved back the the middle of the room. One pose that we'd never tried before (and that Noah warned us John Friend had broken his toe, attempting), and that several very advanced people had trouble with, I did easily on the first try (pincha mayurasana hopping to plank pose).

Noah mentioned the idea of he and I going on a bike ride around Griffith Park, some weekend. I meant to be encouraging, but was so surprised to be singled out that I'm afraid I didn't do much more than nod.

I biked over to the talent management office, found a diner next door, ordered an iced tea, and used their bathroom to transform from Yogachick to Clark Kent. Not a trace of sweatiness left when I was done.

"And you have reliable transportation, of some sort?" he asked at one point during the interview.

"Yes," I nodded.

"A car, or...?"

"Well, I ride a bike, actually."

"A bike? Did you ride here?" He asked, all a-shocked.

"Yep," I said.

"Do you ride in the dark?"

"Uh huh."

"What about when it rains?"

"Sure --"

"Come on!" he said, smiling.

"I have rain gear, and besides there's an express bus right to here, if I wanted."

"Wow, that's great," the other employee said.

"Well I couldn't do it. Do you know how to drive?" he asked.

On the way back from the job interview, having transformed back into Yogachick, and relieved to have seen they were both wearing jeans (I heart California Casual), I took off on a street I didn't know, but which seemed to be going in the right general direction. And without a map, I made my way back home via some lovely residential streets, picking up cat food on the way, and without getting lost.

As of exactly 2 weeks ago, I've been living in Los Angeles for one full year.