The Walrus & The Carpenter

I watched Alice in Wonderland last night (the beloved, animated Disney version), and was delighted to rediscover the at once hilarious and terrifying anecdote of the Walrus and the Carpenter. That Walrus is scary looking, trust me, and those little oysters never stood a chance.
Given that I had lost my job a few hours before, and was feeling introspective, I saw a little bit of my own situation, mostly, why obsess over boring work when you can talk of other, more interesting and imaginative things? Lewis Carroll says it better:

"Work?! The time has come," the Walrus said
"To talk of other things
Of shoes and ships and sealing wax
Of cabbages and kings
And why the sea is boiling hot
And whether pigs have wings
Calloo-Callay
No work today!
We're cabbages and kings"

Obviously, work is good for money and stuff like that, but every now and then it's important, especially if you're me and want to maintain the creative energy and pursue the sorts of opportunities that utilize that, to remember your imagination, and watch a trippy, animated film.

So, before I prep for my interview and pack for my high school reunion (!), I'm going to listen to some French music, daydream about Paris, and do the dishes.

À Bientôt.

(Another Possible) Bump in the Road

So, I was laid off today. FBR figured out, from my numerous absences, that I was looking for other jobs. Since I'm a temp and they don't need to show me any professional consideration, they have been interviewing people for the past two weeks, found someone, and told me today that my last day is Friday.
Luckily, I happen to have another job interview Friday (of course, as soon as I throw in the towel on Publishing, one of my old contacts emails me asking me to interview to be her assistant), so obviously I hope to transition into something better.
Ultimately, though the whole situation and the way in which I felt hung out to dry were very upsetting, I've been able to get my head around things, and see that this is for the best. I'm still working on wine store jobs, and I'm thinking of looking for more waitressing jobs in the meantime. There is something a bit appealing about that sort of work after being in an office for over 6 months, doing things that made me feel stupid.
I spoke to my contacts at the temp agency, and they are very eager to find me other assignments. If I do decide to do temp work, I think it will be short term work, week by week, while I look for permanent things that I actually want to do. On the bright side, working at night / some days would give me more opportunities to write, etc. Honestly, I'm trying to see the bright side, and looking at the positive of something like this is difficult but important for me to do. Luckily, there are opportunities for me. I'm out of a situation that made me unhappy, and I'll still be able to make money, pay my rent, etc.
End of a certain era, but I feel as if it's the beginning of something better. There were some other things I wanted to write about today, but they took the back burner after this happened. I'll get to them tomorrow.

xx

Finally Doing My Civic Duty

I'm writing from the Manhattan Court House today. That's right - after months (years?) of attempting to evade first the Delaware and then the Manhattan judicial systems, I am finally here. It actually feels like a vacation, in a way. I can access all the websites (personal email, facebook, job search websites, this blog) that are blocked at work, get an hour for lunch, and wear jeans. However, it feels particularly serendipitous that I'm here, since I recently decided to take the plunge and sign up for an LSAT course. It sounds dumb, but when the judge came into the selection room this morning and spoke about the responsibilities of being on a jury and the implications of serving, I got a little excited about it. Yes, excited about jury duty. Either I really hate my day job, or maybe I'm more suited to study the law than I originally thought. I think I want to take the GREs as well, but I'm not sure what I'd go to grad school for other than a Writing MFA, which I'd want to do a little later on in life, or a law degree. Plus, the GREs have math, which is enough to make me a little wary about them.
Then again, Law School is a huge decision and investment, and I have had, no exaggerating, three people interrupt cell phone conversations in which I am discussing the LSAT and tell me not to go to law school. So, I'm deciding to take the test and let that experience (and my score, obviously) dictate whether or not I take the plunge. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, etc.
Now that my wine store inquiries and volunteer pursuits are starting to take root, I have to look at my job (or maybe grad school) prospects, frightening as it is. I'm going back to the Barnard Office of Career Development (it does not escape me that the office has the same acronym as obsessive compulsive disorder, it's actually quite apt) at the end of this week, and I've been brainstorming all the possible career paths that I could pursue for the next couple of weeks that wouldn't involve me being a receptionist and worrying that we're low on French Roast coffee in the break room. This is a harrowing task, but a necessary one.
Also, I'm using this hour and a half (!) lunch break at the court house to look up writing contests for various journals, magazines, online and off. The best inspiration is the deadline.
When that gets old, I have the latest issue of the Paris Review and Ian McEwan's latest. I could get used to jury duty.

'Til tomorrow.

A Little Bit of an Exercise I Like

* Write one page of memories, always beginning with the words "I remember." Write a second page of sentences that begin the same way, but are lies. Then, intersperse them.

I remember the pain of gravel on bare feet, and how it eventually lessened the longer I stood.

I remember indescribable pain in my ears after running two miles through a Connecticut winter, and how the thaw hurt almost more.

I remember when it was cool to be religious.

I remember emotional landmines. You touch them, and you die.

I remember my mother's address book, falling apart at the spine and never replaced.

I remember irrational fury at someone suggesting I should like something or someone.

I remember the security of being with adults, and the exhale of being with friends.

I remember the pressure of always appearing to be learning or appreciating something.

I remember running away, wrapping all of my essentials in a white towel and trying to attach the bundle to a stick, like I had seen done in movies. It might have been a grand success, except for the note I'd left, telling my parents where I had gone.

I remember it was a thrill having secrets for about a day or so, and then feeling as if I would die if I didn't tell someone.

I remember the joy of rediscovering something, usually an old letter or picture. The rush of memory, sweet and sudden, is rare and precious.

Feels Like A Lifetime Ago

Today, thanks to some very generous help, I set out to craft a resume to send to Italian Wine Merchants, a gorgeous wine store in Union Square. It's the sort of place where I'd feel ridiculously cool just to learn at their feet. So, I had to call to mind some experiences I hadn't though of quite some time, my restaurant jobs. I've worked in three restaurants in New York, all while in college. Even though it hasn't been more than a year and a half since working in a restaurant, it took a while to even remember which summers I worked where, and for how long. It seems like a completely different world, and, in a way, it always felt like that while I was working in restaurants, too.
Going from Barnard to the Popover Cafe, for example, while only 20 blocks down on Broadway, turned me into a person I almost didn't recognize. At college, I was confident, surrounded by people more or less like me, at similar ages and with like interests. We were all moving toward the same goal, and everyone juggled classes and was looking towards a certain type of life. Even in my job now, being out of school, I'm surrounded by men in suits all day, all of whom went to business school and live in either Murray Hill (if they're under 35) or Connecticut (if they're not).
In restaurants, at least the ones I worked in, I was never surrounded by servers like myself, students working on weekend nights to make some extra money for nights at bars and daytime shopping trips in the Village. I worked with single mothers, college dropouts, one memorable gay "freelance stylist" who claimed to have dressed Soledad O'Brien (and called me fat whenever he got the chance), and countless strange and listless other people.
I was almost always reserved, feeling more like a spectator than anything else. On the instances where I did let my guard down more than usual, I felt as if I could be, and was being, a different person - maybe a departure from my usual life. The expectations of working in that sort of environment were completely unlike the demands I made of myself at school, with literally no overlap. So strange to imagine how many hours I spent at those places, and how little of it I can place in my mind. Something tells me that, if I'm lucky enough to get this second job, I'll feel very differently learning about and selling amazing Italian wines than I did serving the equivalent of Eggs Benedict in a popover.
In other news, I have my first volunteer adventure this weekend. My volunteer orientation at 826, Dave Eggers' non-profit to encourage creative writing in children, is on Sunday, to be followed by Storytelling & Bookmaking. Awesome.

And, finally...The TV in my area at work is tuned to CNBC all day, so, of course, I watched the entire Goldman Sachs hearing yesterday. Tragically, because I leave work at 5, I missed Lloyd Blankfein. For reasons I can't quite explain, I find him absolutely hilarious. Luckily, so do the ridiculously funny people over at New York Magazine. They brought this to my attention. Enjoy.

Until tomorrow!!

PS. I absolutely love the emails and comments. Keep them coming!

Bump in the Road & A New Plan

So, today, I found out I didn't get the job at Macmillan. The job I've gone on three rounds of interviews for, done two projects, and faked several doctors' appointments to pursue. Normally, this would not be that big of a hiccup in my plan to find a publishing job, but, if you're familiar at all with the history of my job search, you'll know that this is the latest in many, many of the same result. Ultimately, this was a job for which I was completely qualified and was called back for several interviews, but no offer. I've decided, after today, that going after a job in Publishing is not working, so I am going to pursue other things.
This is tough for me, since all of my internship experience has been in that realm, but I think the universe might be trying to tell me something. In a way, while this choice is a little scary, it's also liberating. Just thinking of all the things I might want to do...Advertising, Marketing, maybe go back to College Admissions, maybe take the LSATs (yikes). Luckily, I have my admin job to keep me from living on the street, so I'm going back to Barnard Career Development and meeting with my old career counselor to try to weave something new together. Plus, I got some calls back from wine stores today, so maybe I can turn drinking wine into some sort of career...cue me envisioning myself in Reims, guzzling champagne, and working at Veuve Clicquot.
So, bye, Publishing. It was good almost knowing you (I've interviewed at every major publishing house in the city, so I consider myself a fringe expert). I guess we weren't meant to be, but now I can find some other industry that will love me back.
God, I didn't mean for that to sound so pathetic. Onward and upward!

2 Things I Made From Scratch Today

The first is a little comfort food stew I made (no recipe!), basically a riff on one of my Mom's signature dishes. I felt very competent, sauteing my onions, chopping my parsley, etc...


With luck, it should feed me at work for most of the week. Saving money is a beautiful & delicious thing.

The second is this - a little free write I did this evening. I'm experimenting with proprioceptive writing as a way to mine inspiration a little differently. We shall see...

I left work at five o'clock on a mission, a sense of purpose that felt completely foreign. I needed a zebra aloe plant. If I went to sleep with that plant on my formerly barren windowsill, things would be better in the morning.

At a job where my most pressing tasks involve making sure there is enough coffee for thirty investment bankers to drink when they saunter into work in the morning, each day is an exercise in keeping myself occupied. For the most part, after navigating the complex list of websites the company blocks, I am entertained by the New York Times. Their seemingly never-ending supply of slideshows, "multimedia wedding announcements", and stories on everything from natural disasters to the MTA discontinuing student Metrocards is a godsend in my line of work.

My favorite section is in Sunday Styles, titled Home & Garden, though I have neither. I have Apartment & Dying Daisies in a Cloudy Vase. But that's the great thing about the Times. They don't just cater to people who have townhouses and charming neighborhood gardens. They're also talking to me, the young, relatively poor, yet endlessly aspiring class of person. They know what I want, and there it was - in a new slideshow: Apartment Gardens. The Zebra Aloe was the first slide: "visually arresting" and apparently almost impossible to kill. Perfect.

Equally perfect was the fact that, although I live on a somewhat forlorn stretch of First Avenue, my closest subway stop was in completely respectable proximity to the "Upper East Side" of fancy and comprehensive florists, which the Times, in her infinite wisdom, referenced at the end of the article. And so I left at 5 precisely. After all, the florist at East 87th Street closed precisely at 6, I needed that plant, and it couldn't wait until tomorrow.


PS. By popular demand, a photo of the zebra aloe!