The Right thing at the Right time

I had terrible dreams last night, dreams that were like bad versions of past things and people, dreams that woke me up every hour on the hour only to let me fall back asleep to a different version of the same uncomfortable feeling. And I ended up on the wrong side of the bed even when waking up with the arms of the one I love wrapped around me.

How unfair. How unfair that one sleepless night of mental insanity can color your entire day, can make you feel like something bigger and more potent than yourself is conspiring to darken your life in some way. How unfair it is when your eyes tear up on their own accord, leaving you to wonder what you could possibly have to cry about?

Three hours later I still felt cloudy and slightly confused, waiting for the 1 train at Christopher Street to whisk me away to the day's next task. And then, from the opposite platform- the strains of Hallelujah. A song that's been sung by so many, so many amazing musicians, and still, to me, sounds like salvation when sung by a nameless busker. A song that instantly saddens me and calms me in such a magical way that I cannot explain it's hold over me or what it means or why I am drawn so to it's sorrowful strains. I watched from across 3 sets of electrified tracks and wished that I could throw far enough for whatever money I had in my wallet to reach his guitar case. And I watched as almost EVERY SINGLE PERSON who walked by on that side of the station, at least every other, threw money into that case. In the four years I've lived here (and all the previous years, when I think I probably noticed much more than I do now), I have seen countless subway and street musicians peddling their talent. And I have never seen one so well-received by the usual foot traffic. It was like this siren song, like this grace, that was having an affect on nearly everyone that took their headphones out of their ears long enough to listen.

A 2 train passed, fast, with a rumble and whoosh and then it was gone, and the guy was only finishing up the bridge. I saw the oncoming 1 train waiting down the tracks, lights blazing, but motionless- like it was giving us the end of the song.

And then, just after the last word, 1 trains from both directions flew in the station and parted the guitar chords that still hung in the air. And I felt a little bit less alone.

Today's List(s)

Things I Hate:
-Allergies. Something I haven't had in four years. What I thought was a benefit of living in a city.
-Cold/rainy days. Nothing new here. Except that it is unfair that this happen in conjunction with allergies.
-Boys with hipster hair which falls in front of eyeballs obscuring view on purpose. Girly.

Things I Love:
-Ham. Delicious.
-Upcoming vacations. Something to dream about.
-New hair. Something fun to look at in the mirror. Instant self-esteem.

Things I can't decide about:
-Zombie movies. Cool, scary, or just uncomfortable? Sometimes all three.
-The E! network. On one hand, it has The Soup and Chelsea Lately. On the other hand, it also has annoyingly plastic surgeried host(esses) and non-stop coverage of Miley Cyrus.

Things I should add to the Hate list:
-Miley Cyrus. No explanation necessary.

Secretly I wish I was Romanian?

I think I assume a foreign persona when emailing people about apartments, and I have no idea why. Because all the listing are obviously from foreign brokers or landlords and I want to fit in? Because I think I sound more refined when I use the word "mobile" instead of "cell"? Because I want them to believe that I am bilingual and therefore more worthy of an apartment? Because I am reading "You Shall Know Our Velocity" and one of the characters does this when he travels?

Huh?

Leavings

I'm going to Jamaica in 16 days!

And I'm (if all goes as planned) moving in 55 days!

And I am so ready for both.

Even if I hadn't had a huge fight with my landlord (I do not even want to go into how stupid this fight was) and even if I hadn't missed my previously scheduled vacation (so not revisiting this), I would be desperately needing both to happen as soon as possible. I can do 16 days. 55? I hope so. Because I have been scoping out matching dishes since February, I am anxious to clean my carpets, my waffle maker patiently awaits a coveted spot on a new countertop, and of course I really miss my sister, aka new roommate. The countdown has officially begun.

There seems to be so much to do before I go, but it's too early to start doing any of it. This is going to be so worth it, right? Moving scares me, and money scares me (or rather spending it in large amounts), and I have to do both of these things at once very soon. Everything seems so daunting right now... I wish I could sleep through the next few weeks and wake up and drink a pot of coffee and just get it over with.

I can make it through the next two weeks. I can do that, and I can go lay on a beach and get drunk on local rum and fruity concoctions with my ginger boyfriend, and then I can come back and figure some crap out.

It is time to get back in "what the hell should I do with my life" mode and get my act together.
Rev up that coffeemate, San- we're gonna do this shit.

My Faith in God and New York City has been Restored

I just went for a run to Astoria Park and I got at least 3 grins, a thumbs up, and a wave, and on the way back I ran into Carrie on her way to the park too. And suddenly I feel like myself again. Which is kind of amazing, since I haven't felt like myself in at least two months- and had I known it only takes short-sleeve weather and a quick conversation on the sidewalk, I would have stayed in hibernation until today and saved everyone the trouble of trying to figure out what's been wrong with me.

I think I must have had the worst case of Seasonal Affective Disorder ever, which, hello, duh. Every year since I can remember I have been depressed at some point during the winter, for little or no particular reason, even when I lived in NC, but I guess it just hasn't made me feel like a completely crazy person this long until now. And during school at least I had a reasons to be depressed and stressed and crazy-acting. But now, not so much... I am actually a very lucky person and it is high time I quit wanting to cry over anything that slightly bothers me, like traffic and mean people at the post office. Because that is just dumb.

Today it was finally beautiful weather on my day off, and suddenly, my faith in God and New York City has been restored.

So, what the hell?

Yesterday I saw a big macho looking man crying on the subway. He seemed to also be halfheartedly mouthing the words to whatever was being piped through his headphones. He was wearing a leather jacket and I thought maybe he was Irish- he was cool in that way that Bono would be if he were a little taller and not so full of himself. If he had been italian looking and wearing gold chains and had gel in his hair I would probably think it was funny. But it wasn't funny, it was quiet and sad and it made me sad. And it made me think of all the people I've seen cry on the subway, and all the people that must cry on the subway, and all the times I've cried on the subway because I was either drunk or just couldn't take it anymore, or both. And I kept wondering what he was crying about: a woman, his mother's sickness, his life? A job lost? A love lost? A dream lost? And something in me wanted to know- to know what allows a grown man to sit, red-eyed and purse-lipped, among a bunch of strangers, and not care who's staring? And also I wanted to say that it's ok, I know it sucks to be this miserable in public, it happens to me all the time. Probably this is some sad sort of scheidenfrued, because I felt a little less bad about all the things that make me want to cry.

When did I become miserable? On a 60 degree day, no less? Maybe not so much miserable, as generally dissatisfied with my life. Thinking about almost anything for more than 3 minutes fills me with a sense of dread lately, and I'm not sure why. I'm antsy and I think about moving somewhere warmer and less expensive and that fills me with dread too, because I can't imagine living anywhere but here, even though here (New York City) is different and and sadder and emptier than it was before. I feel the need to "put things in order" ALL THE TIME even though I haven't the slightest clue what things need to be put in order, or how to go about doing this.

I'm hoping to chalk this all up to the bitter winter that is hopefully almost over, because it's been a particularly crap winter this year. So far 2009 has kind of been particularly crap. But when I have a brief moment of clarity, a fleeting moment in which my brain works logically, I know that there is nothing miserable about my life; on the contrary, I have all the things I've ever needed and most of what I ever wanted. I am a happy person. I was meant to be a happy person. So, what the hell?

Any ideas on how to make my brain work in a logical fashion more often are gladly welcomed.

A Waste of Life-time

At work, I make lists of all the things I have to do each day and then I cross these tasks off in different colors. It is very enjoyable and makes me feel quite productive to see list after list, red-lined and finished. Even really inane things make these lists, because I WILL get chewed out if I don't verify something about license renewal for the third time or grab my boss a small coffee with milk on my way back from the post office. It recently occurred to me that if I had theses kind of lists for what I do in my personal time, they would be even dumber. And maybe, just maybe, if I start making lists of all the stupid things I do with my precious spare time, I will actually realize how much time I'm wasting and will be motivated to become a more productive person. We'll start with this:


-play with the Clipiola Italian paperclips from my office and think of ways I can use them at home, simply because they are spiral and look cool

-look at wedding and baby pictures of people I disliked in high school but am still, for some unknown reason, friends with on Facebook

-look at pictures of myself on Facebook to make sure I'm not tagged in anything really weird or terrible (although even if I was, I'm sure I'd probably leave it up anyways). simultaneously verify that there are at least a couple pictures in the first page view in which my hair looks nice and I don't look fat, and in which I appear to be happy

-search for on-sale flat screen TVs online for my bedroom, because even though I spent 600 bucks on a nice 32" only a few months ago, I am too lazy (and cold) to go to the living room and watch it

-re-read my journal, which is a bad idea because it gets me nowhere, wastes my time, and makes me extremely sentimental and/or emotional, neither of which is useful at this point in my life

-search craigslist for a new, cheaper apartment and get depressed about how much I pay in rent, this depression turns to anxiety when I think about how much I pay on top of rent for health insurance and utilities, anxiety turns back to depression when I realize that the only way I can fix this is to move out of New York

-refresh weather.com to see if the temperature has changed since I started wasting time on my computer. get angry about the crap weather that inevitably returns every time I have a day off

More to come later, when I am wasting my time in ways other than writing on this blog. Post office time now. List making time later. Hoping for some caffeine in between.

Things I Should Do That I Don't

1. Run a marathon > my best friend from college just ran a marathon this weekend. While he was carb-loading, I was trying to decide if I should get off my lazy ass and put on enough clothing to last 20 minutes in the 43 degree afternoon wind. I did not do so. And then when I remembered that he was running a marathon, I felt like a big fat loser.

2. Stop eating white cheddar cheese popcorn > this will never happen, so I should just give up now and call it a day. I'm not even sure why it made this list. Probably because I am trying to convince myself not to go through 5 whole servings a day. Which will also never happen. Maybe 4 servings. Maybe just two. But never none.

3. Clean my room > so I can be minimalist like my boyfriend. He has the biggest room of anyone I know in NYC and he has hardly anything in it. It is amazing. I can make my voice echo AND do a headstand without crashing into any furniture. I secretly want to fill all his walls with the framed photographs I have no room for in my own bedroom. I secretly want to buy him furniture and arrange it because I have no more room to buy furniture for myself. I secretly want to switch rooms with him. This is not going to happen, any of it, because I like him a lot and I don't want him to think I'm any more of a weirdo than he already does.

4. Fold my laundry > folding laundry is the most annoying chore ever: it's like, okay your laundry is finally clean, and now you have to do something else with it? Fold it neatly? And put it away? When you finally get the motivation to clean your bathroom, you don't have to do anything else with it- you can sit back on your porcelain throne and admire your handiwork. Folding laundry sucks. Especially if you have so many clothes that once they are all clean they won't all fit in your drawers. So once you fold it, some of it still has to sit out on your chair until you've had time to wear other clothes from your drawers, at which point said clean clothes can take their place. I would rather wait until there is room in the drawers and then I'll fold these clothes. Maybe.

That's all I've got right now. Back to watching Flight of the Conchords in my underwear and eating popcorn in bed. And maybe updating my Facebook status. If I'm not doing things that I should do, at least I'm doing things I maybe should not do. A reverse productivity, if you will.

The Illustrious Life of Vera

My chair has had a very illustrious existence. I venture to guess it has even had a very long and fruitful life thus far, as I found it in a high end thrift shop (high end equaling fruitful, thrift shop equaling longish). At first glance the chair was (is) a beautiful specimen: matte white leather with a chic black trim, tall, polished chrome legs, the back two which curve slightly.

I think it is safe to say I am in love with my chair.

Even if my chair is a woman (It is totally a woman, only women are this beautiful and well preserved, except maybe for gay men. I don't think my chair is a gay man.)

Upon further inspection, my chair once belonged to Burberry. What this means is mostly lost on me, as I can only surmise that it once made it's home in a high end retail store. Not far from the Burberry client sticker on the bottom of my chair, there is a tiny sticker which says "Made in Italy" AND a tiny Italian flag. Italy! I knew this chair was special- extraordinary, even.

Who may have sat in my chair before I lugged it up Hudson street, into the Iofredda's apartment building, then back down to the subway, onto the 1 train, transferring in Times Square to the N train, into the Food World so I could purchase toilet paper, and then down 29th Street to my apartment where we climbed the stairs to it's new home?

Who, indeed? My chair has gotten so many jealous looks in even my short ownership. People looking longingly at it's supple leather, as they sat on the hard plastic benches of the N. People glancing sideways and cranking their heads around as my chair passed, the kind of looks normally reserved for leggy blondes. People with questionable glances, wondering where or how they might obtain such a chic and lovely piece of furniture for their own humble apartments.

Oh, my chair. Touched by rich old women, Italian stock boys, perhaps a burly UPS man or an overly tactile customs inspector. And now reserved primarily for my behind. Or my clean laundry. Or maybe I will rest my computer (up until now my most cherished posession) on it's smooth cream colored surface.

I sure am getting old and domestic.

I Should Move Somewhere Warmer

The above statement is very applicable to what the hell I should do with my life. It's really a shame that I like New York City so much, and that I am fortunate enough to have met people I can't imagine leaving. So what to do now?

Thoughts:
1- Go on tropical vacation (this didn't work last time I tried, and might be a little tricky considering my boss seems to be a big fan of consistency in my work schedule. and I've only been there for 3 weeks yet...)
2- Go to warm places, like the gym (too smelly), yoga (nice, but my arms can only take it a couple times a week), or a tanning salon (totally out since my bout with Melanoma).
3- Hide in my bed until May (not really an option, considering the aforementioned job)

I am fresh out of ideas. I am completely miserable in this single-degree wind tunnel, but it's not even fun to complain about since 8 million other people are in the exact same situation.

In my next lifetime I'm going to be Australian. I wonder if love bagel can come?

Things that are Good

Today was largely un-interesting. I say this because the highlight was my trip to Bagel House this morning, where, despite my best intentions to eat better, I had a giant chocolate/cream cheese muffin. But I made Doug eat at least three bites.

However, despite the uninteresting-ness of my day (mostly spent volunteering at the Museum of Modern Art and working on my quarterly taxes), I was in no particular mood, good or bad. And this is good because I have gotten really tired of being in a bad mood the past month. And also I realized that I am the only person who can help me not be in a bad mood, and this is both annoying and empowering. And means that I have to make having a good attitude my numero uno priority.

On the other hand, yesterday I was in a really good mood. Yesterday was a great day, and let me tell you why:

1. I went to work, and I got paid. (Payment for work is always a good thing.)
2. After work, I went to the movies with Doug, who always lets me hold his hand, whether we are in the movies or not. (Going to movies is a good thing. Going to movies with your red-headed boyfriend is better.)
3. On the way to the movie, I bought Smartfood popcorn and a six pack of beer, which I then expertly hid in my bag. (Smartfood is SO good. Beer is even better.)
4. On the way to the movie, I bought chicken fingers and fries from Chelsea Papaya, which I then expertly hid in my bag. (Chicken fingers and crinkly fries from Chelsea Papaya are possibly better than beer. Depends on what kind of beer it is.)
5. Slumdog Millionaire is a really good movie. (Despite my deep hatred for awards shows and all things awards-show related, those rich bastards in Hollywood were right- really really good movie.)
6. After the movie, I went home with aforementioned red-head AND.... ate cookies. (Cookies are also a good thing. Or 10 good things.)
7. Doug's apartment is always warm. (I am always cold, so this is probably the BEST thing on this list.)

So there you have it. It is almost Friday, and so far the run-down is thus:

Monday- kind of sucked
Tuesday- sucked less, actually didn't really suck, considering it consisted of eating curry products (god, I love things made with curry) at Bite with one of the very few former co-workers I still like (Kav you're cool), getting paid to browse cnn.com with a cool old guy, and a delightfully B.O.-free yoga class. Oh and then I drank a bunch of wine and feel asleep by 11. Sweeeet.
Wednesday- did not suck at all, culminated in cookies
Thursday- also did not suck at all, so I guess that counts as a good day

I see Friday being great. I am going to a Knicks game with Kevin where I'm sure I'll spend my last remaining non-rent money on horrifically overpriced beers, but I won't mind because the beauty of sporting events is that you are supposed to drink, and the more you drink, the less you care about how much money you are actually spending.

Hello, weekend! Forecast for Saturday and Sunday: productive and delicious, the high point being brunch. God I love brunch.


ps- Doug, do I need to use a code name for you in this blog? I figured it didn't matter that much since I think you're the only one who reads this (except when my sisters are bored in class) but if you want to remain nameless, I'll edit in something suave in place of your name, you just let me know honeymuffin.

One Week Into It (my job, my life post-deathbed, etc.)

Consensus?
So far I like my job and I kind of hate everything else. Yes, this is one of those negative blog posts where you humor me because I am going to rant like every other blogger does from time to time (or all the time) about various things I don't like. And at least a few of these are somehow work-related, though I don't know how related they are to the larger picture of what the hell I should do with my life. I will try to make a correlation at some point.

Things I Don't Like:
-Getting sick. And staying sick for extended periods of time.
-Missing my birthday. Inevitably I will not be sick anymore and then I will just be sad that I missed the only day out of 365 that is devoted to me and during which I can't feel bad about doing everything I want and nothing useful.
-Not getting a birthday cake with candles or a reasonable facsimile thereof.
-People who don't care that I'm on my deathbed. Or at least that I can't get out of bed to wash the puke off my comforter.
-Having to cancel an expensive NON-REFUNDABLE vacation because of aforementioned illness.
-Having to do complicated taxes.
-Having to do complicated taxes 4 times a year.
-This horrifically cold weather.


How this relates to what I should do with my life:
-Don't buy expensive vacations ahead of time.
-If you do buy expensive vacations, make sure you spend the extra 50 bucks on insurance. If you are anything like me and tend to have big accidents at inopportune times, you will need it. This goes for more than vacations. This goes for EVERYTHING.
-Do not live in New York City where it is either brutally hot or brutally cold.
-I have no advice for missed birthdays, cakes, or finding people who will help you wash puke off your comforter (or at least ask how you are doing), or taxes. I am apparently very bad at keeping such things in order.

It is obvious that I am going through the stages of grief over my lost health and lost vacation. I was too sick to care about anything except trying not to die, then I was so happy that I was alive and could actually breathe without coughing up my left lung and walk outside (walk! outside!), then I was sad about how weeks of bed rest affected the rest of my always faltering life, and now I am just angry. I am not an angry person. I do not like being an angry person. I need to figure out what to do about this.

Feeling a little manic lately. Can you tell? I blame it on Valentine's Day. Another thing I'm going to continue disliking even though I'm in a relationship. What is the point of a holiday in which no one, no matter where they are in life, knows what they should be doing to celebrate it? I'm for Thanksgiving, where it's obvious that turkey is the focal point of the day and it is a known fact that you do not need to buy anything for anybody, because there is no such thing as a Thanksgiving Day gift. Turkey is obvious, and edible and delicious, and also kind of healthy. People should care more about Thanksgiving. People should send Thanksgiving Day cards.

So that's it. I'm for turkey. And apparently I have anger issues. And I need to get the hell over it. But my job's pretty decent. End of story.

I'm Alive... Barely. Alive.

This time I have a very good reason for abandoning this blog. I would say a trip to the hospital and two weeks of deathly illness is a pretty decent reason for letting a little thing like a blog go. But fear not! I will not let this blog go the way of all the rest. No, you will not languish in obscurity because I have given up on ever acquiring brilliant writing skills. This blog will live on, in small infamy, forever and ever, even though

I GOT A NEW JOB!

Do you know what this means? So many many things... but mostly it means I get another brief respite from wondering what I should be doing with my career, because until I realize this job is not it (which, my god, could it actually be?), I am able to rest in the peace of thinking that I may have actually found my calling this time. And maybe I have? I've been lucky to find something (and convince them I'm worth hiring over the other 900 applicants) that not only do I want to do, but I actually feel qualified to do. I am able to use my previous experience at SBJ's architectural firm, in conjunction with my graphic design skills, to do a job that I'm actually pretty sure I can do without feeling totally lost and underqualified. Which is no small feat. I have felt underqualified so much in the past few years that it's a wonder I haven't given up and gone back to serving sandwiches just so I don't have to deal with the constant nagging feeling of not being good enough to make it in this city. So we shall see if this one takes... I so hope it will, because among other things, the commute is really super.

In other news, apparently no one told my former co-leader that I quit my job. And I really just don't feel like having that conversation with her. It would figure that when I finally left a place with such communication problems no one would actually get the memo. I emailed the coordinator and I know she got it, so I think it's ok to feel like this is no longer my problem. So there.

So I might have a clue what to do with my life. Holy hell, could I? We shall see... we shall see.

From: Mayowa Williams Re: Tutoring position

this juicy little nugget of pseduo-employment found in my inbox yesterday (the second of such bogus responses to my carefully edited resume and email):



I am Mayowa Williams I am from Germany but resides in the United Kingdom, I have a Son His name is Sean is 13 years old. Whom will be coming for an holiday in the states he's in the high school,will be teaching him so the teaching per hour which should be $40.00/hr(which i have in mind) so get back to me with the total and also i want you to know that my client who is in US will be sending you my salary payment which i want you to know that the rest of the money will be used to get accommodation and any other arrangement for the lesson, so i want you to know that i will be sending you a check for the payment of the tutorial and the payment that you will sent to the Nanny to takecare of him while he's there for the lesson, The nanny will be the one to bring him to you whenever he's suppose to be with you and will also be the one to pick him up after every tutoring.The tutoring can take place at your residence or any nearest library around you. so as soon as you get the check cash you will deduct cost of tutoring of the lesson and send the remaining balance to the Guardian that will be taking care of my son Via western union.



Regarding this, kindly send your full information to receive the check so that payment can be able to made out on-time. So hope i can trust you that you will teach my son good academics and some moral respects so that they can be good to their self in the future, i hope i can count on you for the tutorial and the money to be sent to the Guardian. Thanks and waiting to read from you.Kindly get back to me with your full info so as to issue out the payment as soon as possible. Pls i get back to me asap and i don't want any delay at all.


1.YOUR CHARGE FOR AN HOUR....
2.TOTAL CHARGES FOR 2 WEEKS, 2TIMES A WEEK, AND 2HOURS EACH DAY
3.FULL NAME AND ADDRESS....
4.YOUR PHONE NUMBER...


Williams

Even if I hadn't just gotten a fake check for $3,600.00 in the mail less than a month ago, I am pretty sure I wouldn't be stupid enough to think this was a good idea. You send me a foreign check and then I have to wire money to someone else? Yeeeeahhhh... fat chance chuckleface. It's just pissing me off that these bozos have the verbal skills to write legitimate-sounding posts for teachers on Craigslist, forcing me to waste my time poring over yet another cover letter.

Anyways. Calling on all the birthday karma in the world tomorrow for my interview... I someone managed to buy very professional looking (size 2!) pants at Banana Republic today for $8. Yeah, 8 freakin bucks! The other pair was $45, but hey, I might end up returning them anyways. Besides, it was worth it after I spent an hour this morning trying on and discarding pants that were too big, eventually settling on a pair that were so wide they looked vaguely like pajamas.

Birthday karma + new pants + my naturally enthusiastic and highly intelligent personality MUST = ch ch ch CHANGES!

(Oh, also calling on Bowie power... SO need Bowie power)

Finally: An Interview and a Chance to Be a Stalker

So, I finally have an interview! At this point I've responded to almost 40 job ads, and so far this is what I've gotten:

-One email from someone who wanted me to design stationary to put on her site, commission-based
-Two emails from scam artists claiming to be foreigners whose children need tutoring when they arrive in the US, a deal in which I would be paid by check (yeeeeeah...) but then would have to wire money to the "caregiver" (do they think I am retarded?) note: STOP POSTING LEGITIMATE LOOKING ADS FOR TEACHERS ON CRAIGSLIST, WE MAY BE PATIENT WITH CHILDREN BUT WE ARE CAPABLE OF HURTING SOMEONE AND ARE GETTING REALLY PISSED OFF!
-And finally, a phone call and an interview!

I have visited 4 temp agencies (meeting with one tomorrow) but I don't have high hopes, since I'm pretty sure that half of NYC is also trying to sell themselves to the limited number of agencies, and there are probably at least 1.8 million people who are more qualified than me. Oh, and also I hear no one is hiring temps in this economic fiasco. Wahoo.

But, I have an interview on Friday for a fantastic-sounding (hopefully my ears don't lie this time...) job at a small architecture firm in Soho (getting to work in Manhattan again? glorious!) which entails doing everything I am qualified to do: graphic design, admin, office management. For once, maybe I won't feel underqualified? Now that would be a miracle. Just getting this job would be a miracle, as I talked to my former boss yesterday and he said since things are slowing down at their firm they are switching to a 4 day work week. Not sure what that entails for the employees, but it doesn't sound good. Ouch.

Also, I was able to stalk another potential employer and it may actually have worked in my favor! I went down to the school where I had applied to an Afterschool job by email, and I actually got to talk to the person who heads up the program. Face time is good, but even better is that she seemed very enthused to see me and said, I quote,"I am so glad you came down here, you have just made my job much easier!" after she had told me they got over 200 applicants for two positions and hadn't had time to look over them yet. So, go squeaky wheel! And thanks Dad, for encouraging me to risk being annoying and go get em!

I am mad sick still (mention I think I have the flu?) but mentally I feel better than I have in weeks- there's a (slight) chance I will be able to change jobs, kill the 2 hour commute, and never have to deal with hooligans in Hollis again. Keep your fingers, toes, and any other bendable digits you may have crossed.

Top 10 Things to Do When You Are Looking for A New Job In a Terrible Economy

10- Sleep
9- Whine
8- Get sick, drink orange juice, repeat steps 9 & 10
7- Watch the Sci-Fi channel and complain about how you could do better graphics in your sleep
6- Wish you were Anthony Bourdain
5-Wish you were Bill Gates (but also hate him because your Microsoft stock is down)
4- Wish you were anyone but yourself
3- Edit your resume for the millionth time (thesaurus.com is fun!)
2- Convince yourself that no one is returning your emails because you are "overqualified"

and the Top Thing to Do When You Are Looking for a New Job in a Terrible Economy iiiiis:

1- Blog so that your unanswered emails & applications, time wasted on Facebook, and entire day spent in your pajamas does not make you feel completely worthless and unproductive.

Now GO!

Because the Crazy Man Claims I Am Going to Get Beat the Hell Up...

I am quitting my job. Because of many other things in addition to the crazy man, and because I must get the hell out of Hollis before I get beat the hell up in Hollis. I hesitate to go into further details about why I JUST CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE, DAMMIT!, mainly because I've spent the better part of the past two days (not to mention the past two weeks) complaining bitterly, and also because I'm pretty sure only two or three people might actually read this, and you are precisely the people I've already complained to, ad nauseum.

So, anyhow, this crazy man accosted me at a deserted bus stop in Cambria Heights the other night, first insisting that he was going to hang out with me to protect me, then claiming that thugs were going to beat me up because I'm 17, and then telling me he was in jail, all the while asking me where I was going and why in a really demanding and quite frightening voice, before he finally tried to nonchalantly touch my shoulder and I flailed my arms around a bit and told him to buzz off. So that is another reason I will not be returning to Jamaica, Cambria Heights, or Hollis. I just have to find a way to break the news to the people I work for. Oh, and figure out how to pay my rent.

Which stinks, because sadly, I did not receive any uplifting emails upon disembarking the plane, only a sense of vast relief that I would be returning to my own home, with a bed that does not fold up and a distinct lack of small children. Which, in itself, was pretty happy. But I was disappointed nonetheless, and spent the rest of the evening huddled amongst my sheets, trying to simultaneously stay warm and convince myself that my life was not going to shat.

So, still awaiting any signs that I am a marketable resource, convincing myself that the employers were just biding their time until all responses came in (none quite as fabulous as my own), and craving Orange Mango juice. It is too cold to go outside to the all night grocery and I have been in my pajamas (or some semblance of them) since 5:00.

Tomorrow will be a better day. It is Monday.

33 Jobs in Two Weeks

I have applied for 33 jobs in the past two weeks. Actually, it's probably more like 36 or 37 because that's not including the jobs I applied to through other websites, only things or people I directly emailed, which I just counted in my Sent Mail folder. God bless gmail and it's infinite storage capabilities.

So I'd like to say, heyyyy let's sit back and watch the responses roll in! Sadly, I've gotten, like, two responses, neither which involves consistent work or specific money. Which means, when I fly back to New York tomorrow night, I must mentally prepare myself for Friday's 3+ hour commute and Saturday's 6 am wakeup call (with the 3+ hour commute). Barf.

I've applied to be a graphic designer (which I actually am), a nanny (which I actually was), an administrative assistant (again, I was), a photographer's assistant (haven't been that yet, but hey, I am a photographer), a personal assistant (pretty sure I can handle that), a temp (been there too), and a bartender (strangely, the hardest position to obtain. what?). So here's the plan: I'm going to be in transit, away from the internet, for like, 7 or 8 hours tomorrow, when all's said and done (which is probably the longest I've been away from internet ever, except for various flights to various places). I'm going to tell myself that during those 7 or 8 hours, a large percentage of those 33-37 people/companies I've emailed are going to send me back something along these lines:
"WOW! You seem like a perfect fit for our position as a graphic designer/nanny/assistant/temp/bartender. We LOVE your portfolio. Your resume is genius. We want you to come in for an interview asap. In fact, forget the interview. We want to hire you! When can you start? How much do we need to pay you? Be employed by us, three whole, amazing days a week (enough for you to pay your bills AND have time to freelance/screenprint/watch HBO in your underwear). You can wear all those cute professional clothes that have been languishing in your closet for the past two years, and there are free bagels on Fridays, and best of all- we have one of those really cool coffee machines where you can choose whatever flavor you like from all those tiny coffee packets and make a different flavor in every cup!"

And then I will say something chilly like this:
"Thank you for your kind response. This looks like a very interesting opportunity. Since you are willing to pay me a large amount of money per hour of my valuable time, I look forward to making your website beautiful and drinking your coffee that comes out of tiny individual packets. I will see you on Monday. I mean Tuesday. I don't work Mondays." And then I will do a very enthusiastic, very ridiculous victory dance.

And then, I will go to work next Tuesday, a new woman with a new, 30-minute commute.

At a Loss for a Good Schmooze

So I'm a the Sundance Film Festival, tagging along with my producer aunt & uncle for the third year, and instead of pounding Stella Artois like I usually do I'm Googling resort jobs. And then getting distracted by the "work at home" ads I keep coming across. I've always been told that if it sounds too good to be true, it probably is. And the halfways-intelligent side of me knows this to be true. But then I keep wondering... does that make me a sucker? I don't know. Right now the only thing I'm sure of is that I'm wasting my youth on the internet. I mean, who flies across the country to a ski resort in Park City Utah and spends the entire time online searching for jobs?

What I should really be doing is what everyone else is: schmoozing. I need to schmooze. I need to schmooze the hell out of this exclusive festival and it's celebrity entourage. Only problem is, I have nothing to schmooze about. One can't schmooze without purpose. One must know one's goal in schmoozing; one must have at least a modicum of content to schmooze about. One must stop using certain words relentlessly (schmooze) simply because one thinks they are hilarious.

Conclusion? I am useless here. I have not ever made, nor probably will I ever make a film or be in any type of production greater than the motionless cameo I made in that Poison music video two summers ago. I should hit the Stella tent asap. Again, Craigslist is a wasteland and I know 10 years from now I'm going to regret being married to my computer during my most attractive years.

Eating more popcorn, mulling over the meaning of the John Krasinski film I saw this afternoon, and hoping for inspirational dreams.

Welcome to my Quarter Life Crisis... Again

I have been a graphic designer, a receptionist, an administrative assistant, a nanny, a Production Coordinator (whatever the hell that means), a waitress, a hostess, and a milkshake-maker (and yes, my milkshake DID bring all the boys to the yard). I have worked in retail, in food service, in marketing, and in education. I have sold shoes, burgers, and my own plasma. Probably my favorite job was driving the beverage cart on a golf course in North Carolina. And now, as seems to be the trend since graduating college and moving to New York City almost four years ago, I am again trying to find gainful employment that doesn't make me want to strangle myself after a few months.

I have been freelancing as a graphic designer for two years now, ever since quitting the soul-sucking corporate job that paid me much more than I was worth- and if I could do this all the time, hell I sure would. But there's only so much work one can acquire without leaving the house, so I'm also commuting over three hours A DAY to teach afterschool programs in the far reaches of Queens. The annoyance and stress of which has slowly made the affliction I refer to as my "existential dilemma" creep back, like a bad skin rash you just can't seem to get rid of. Not that I have such a skin rash. Or ever had such a skin rash. You know. An example. Or, like, poison ivy that follows you around. Whatever.

I have already faced many of such dilemmas in recent years; the biggest culminating in my decision to leave corporate America after less than two years of cube-rat status and become a nanny. Which turned out to be a pretty great gig. So don't ask me why I quit that a year later... something about health insurance being a bitch and my career going nowhere? Anyhow. Here I am, a year later, and not so much wiser. On the contrary, when I left the nanny world I thought I had some things figured out:

1- I love the freedom of freelancing
2- There are certain employment agencies devoted to finding short term jobs for graphic design freelancers
3- Said agencies were supposedly going to give me lots of work

Numero uno is still true (god bless Mom, she thinks I should return to the aforementioned cube-rat status) but sadly, while I'm still unclear on the validity of number two, number three turned out to be a BIG FAT LIE.

So here I stand (sit). Desperately scanning Craigslist, day in and day out. It is a vast wasteland of unpaid internships and potential money-laundering scams (more about that later).

HOLY HELL, WHAT SHOULD I DO WITH MY LIFE?

Stay tuned to find out if I ever find out.