Introduction:4 Years. 6 Jobs. 19 Nervous Breakdowns.
MAY 2022
Off the shore of Puerto Vallarta, with the cooling morning breeze flowing along the coastline and the gentle waves flowing up to my knees, I found myself starring off into a vast emptiness beyond the horizon.
Not even as I bared witness to this picturesque paradise could I calm my racing mind. Nothing in surrounding air nor in the the tranquil sights laid before my eyes could mellow my burdened thoughts or loosen the tightening knot in my stomach.
Just a few days prior, May 13, 2022, I was stepping off the stage of the Shrine auditorium in Los Angeles, California. Proudly trailing down in my cap and gown and an bachelor’s degree case from the University of Southern California’s School of Cinematic arts. After an all too short and largely remote collegiate experience, I had finally achieved what just a few years prior seemed like the impossible. Commencement.
That entire weekend was filled with celebration from my friends, mentors, and family, all reassuring me that the best was yet to come. That after a truly unprecedent and catastrophic world event, the world was eager to restart. To reset and welcome the wave of COVID graduates with open arms as the world and our industries made up for lost time.
But that morning in Puerto Vallarta, I felt none of that optimism.
That morning, surrounded by the love of my uncompromisingly supportive family, I never felt more alone, lost, and dejected.
That morning, I had received a rejection email from a job I had been waiting several weeks to hear back from. It wasn’t a glamorous job. Hell, it wasn’t even a particularly exciting opportunity; a podcast editor position that was only marginally tied to my true passions of being a writer. Hardly worth the grieving that morning.
But that opportunity was tangential enough to my true career aspirations to keep me creatively driven and financially afloat in the city of Los Angeles. A true stepping stone on the way to my dream, this opportunity happened to also be the only sign of life in an otherwise silent inbox of job applications.
Throughout my entire college experience, I only landed one development internship at a small independent production company. It was remote, of course, taken during my third semester of COVID learning from back home in El Paso, Texas.
As such, I completed my education with a pretty bare resume of whatever volunteer on-set experiences I managed to cram into my first 3 semesters before the pandemic.
Already feeling behind, this editing job truly felt like a godsent. A sign that I didn’t miss my shot, and that opportunities were truly open to those willing to seize them.
After compiling a short editing from all my school assignments and experimental projects, I pushed through two rounds of interviews and reached the final stages of a test edit.
But now, with a simple rejection email, that opportunity washed away on the Mexican shore. Surrounded by the most important people in my life gathered to celebrate my imminent success, it was impossible not to feel like a complete failure and fraud. Standing alone with no plan and no realistic career trajectory. Just a bare resume and empty diploma case (the actual certificate would arrive late in the mail).
That entire week, each congratulations or reference to my Hollywood success played as a reminder of just how far away everything seemed.
Truth be told, from the moment I was accepted into USC, I spent every day worried that this dream could quickly be snatched away.
What if my financial aid dropped from one year to the next? Where would I transfer to? What if I don’t land any significant internships? What if I fail to build a network? What if… what if… what if…?
All these fears seemed to materialize with two years of fully remote COVID learning, stripping away the usual opportunities of networking, interning, and growth that were integral to USC’s reputation in the industry. In every meaningful way, I felt that my educational experience had been severely undercut by circumstances truly out of anyone’s control.
Though fear not, the outrageous tuition cost remained unscathed.
Following USC’s commencement ceremony, I had originally planned to return to my hometown of El Paso. A much-needed reset before embarking on this new phase of my life, this final homecoming symbolized a new beginning into my dream. Living full time in a LA as an aspiring screenwriter.
But with no career opportunities lined up ahead of me, I decided there was no time to rest. I had to return to L.A. immediately, hoping that in a few months I would find a job position that would empower me to write and create on my own terms. All I needed was a semi-stable role that could nurture my truly naïve career aspirations. A desk job. An assistant role. Anything really.
It is now May 13, 2026.
4 years, 6 jobs, and 19 nervous breakdowns later. And I sit here once again unemployed and with a career plan as stable and
But let’s go back a little bit.
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