Bullshit. I've been in the city applying for jobs for over a month now, and that is the generic response from HR when they receive your resume, "We'll get back to you." I understand that they're trying to be polite, and I shouldn't take it personally, but seriously? Just be honest with me here, people. My resume is one page, you know from one glance whether or not you're actually going to think about hiring me, so just tell me. If I'm "not taking it personally" anyway, then just man up and say it, "Sorry, you're mediocre achievements and glaring lack of experience indicates that we will never hire you ever. Good luck somewhere else, asshole!" Well, maybe they shouldn't be quite that blunt, but don't string me along, don't give me hope where there is none.
I know that I've only been on the job search for a month, and some people have it a lot worse than I do, so I really shouldn't complain, but it's frustrating as hell. I feel like I'm going through rush all over again, except this time they won't even let me have a forced, inane conversation with them. Clearly when I was skipping class most of my freshman year I missed the day when they said that if you didn't pick a career path and stick to it and get around 14 internships in that exact field throughout college then you might as well pack it in, you jerk, because businesses today have no room for enthusiastic, intelligent (sort of) recent college grads unless they already have 3 years of experience. That's right, you can't even be an assistant unless you've already been an assistant for at least 3 fucking years. I feel like I'm taking crazy pills.
I guess that's enough bitching and moaning for today. Check you later.
Here's a song. It's kind of morbid, but I think you can handle it.
Murder in the City, The Avett Brothers
Monday, July 11, 2011
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Moving On Up
Well, as I drunkenly blathered in my last post, I've moved to New York. It's really great, and by "really great" I mean I'm bored out of my mind. I love living in the city, but being unemployed may actually be as soul-deadening as having an office job. Except that not only am I bored, but I'm too poor to do anything. I can't even go to the movies after noon, because I don't have the $13.50 for a matinee (before noon, though, tickets are $6, chicka yeah). Mostly we just watch a lot of TV. We're actually watching TV right now. We generally favor Law and Order SVU, which is what we're watching right now.
It's a really great episode about a "musician" who thinks he's a vampire. He has followers who allow him to suck their blood, or steal blood from the blood banks where they work, because he's scared of getting HIV from sucking random people's blood. It's especially entertaining to watch Olivia read his lyrics in the most serious, non-humorous voice ever. I like it because it's kind of like leaving the apartment, without actually leaving the apartment. I don't even have to put on pants.
Now that I've started rambling, I think it's best that I go, don't want to scare off my avid fans. Is anyone even reading this?
Going to go hump the fridge.
It's a really great episode about a "musician" who thinks he's a vampire. He has followers who allow him to suck their blood, or steal blood from the blood banks where they work, because he's scared of getting HIV from sucking random people's blood. It's especially entertaining to watch Olivia read his lyrics in the most serious, non-humorous voice ever. I like it because it's kind of like leaving the apartment, without actually leaving the apartment. I don't even have to put on pants.
Now that I've started rambling, I think it's best that I go, don't want to scare off my avid fans. Is anyone even reading this?
Going to go hump the fridge.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Many Moons
Well, I haven't posted on here in many moons, so I thought I'd give it a shot. I'm a little tipsy, so please don't be too harsh on the judgment (why is there no 'e' after the 'g' in judgment? that doesn't make any sense).
Moving on. I have officially relocated to New York City. That's right, the Big Apple, NYC (or Enyce, if you prefer), the City of Dreams (I made that one up, but it seemed fitting). It's glorious here, but I still feel like such an outsider. I try to fit in, try to seem like I know where I'm going, but it doesn't really work. I mean, I'm learning the neighborhoods, but I still get the odd sensation that everyone looks at me and assumes that I'm some redneck who's on vacation and can't handle herself in the Big City. It's kind of like how I still felt like a freshman at UGA even as I was completing my final semester. Which reminds me, I got my diploma! The high and mighty overlords of the University of Georgia actually decided that my mediocre grades were enough to let me graduate. Huzzah! It's kind of odd, too, because no one else I know has gotten his or her diploma, but whatever, I got mine and they can't take it back. So there.
Other than my feeling like a total outsider and the fact that I did not bring nearly enough clothes, New York is groovy. Lyndsay and I lucked out and got a super-great apartment in Murray Hill (Midtown, central location=perfection). Though our apartment broker may have been a criminal, apartment 2F is now all ours and I am so beyond thrilled. It's a one bedroom, but splitting a one bedroom between 2 people is actually fairly common in Manhattan and we really do have tons of space. One ridiculous thing about NYC is that landlords apparently don't understand the need for central AC, so we have none. It's been fine so far, but seriously, it's 2011, and we're not in Europe. Why the hell do these people think AC isn't necessary? Other than that (and the tiny roach problem that has now been quashed), our apartment really is fantastic. I am just still having a hard time believing that this is not a vacation.
I should probably write a more coherent post in the morning when I'm a touch more sober. Until then, hasta la huego (I have no idea if that's spelled correctly; I took French)!
Moving on. I have officially relocated to New York City. That's right, the Big Apple, NYC (or Enyce, if you prefer), the City of Dreams (I made that one up, but it seemed fitting). It's glorious here, but I still feel like such an outsider. I try to fit in, try to seem like I know where I'm going, but it doesn't really work. I mean, I'm learning the neighborhoods, but I still get the odd sensation that everyone looks at me and assumes that I'm some redneck who's on vacation and can't handle herself in the Big City. It's kind of like how I still felt like a freshman at UGA even as I was completing my final semester. Which reminds me, I got my diploma! The high and mighty overlords of the University of Georgia actually decided that my mediocre grades were enough to let me graduate. Huzzah! It's kind of odd, too, because no one else I know has gotten his or her diploma, but whatever, I got mine and they can't take it back. So there.
Other than my feeling like a total outsider and the fact that I did not bring nearly enough clothes, New York is groovy. Lyndsay and I lucked out and got a super-great apartment in Murray Hill (Midtown, central location=perfection). Though our apartment broker may have been a criminal, apartment 2F is now all ours and I am so beyond thrilled. It's a one bedroom, but splitting a one bedroom between 2 people is actually fairly common in Manhattan and we really do have tons of space. One ridiculous thing about NYC is that landlords apparently don't understand the need for central AC, so we have none. It's been fine so far, but seriously, it's 2011, and we're not in Europe. Why the hell do these people think AC isn't necessary? Other than that (and the tiny roach problem that has now been quashed), our apartment really is fantastic. I am just still having a hard time believing that this is not a vacation.
I should probably write a more coherent post in the morning when I'm a touch more sober. Until then, hasta la huego (I have no idea if that's spelled correctly; I took French)!
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Animals
Two close friends have passed away in the past two days, and it's got me a little shaken. The following is a poem by Frank O'Hara entitled "Animals" that I'd like to dedicate to the both of them. You will be greatly missed.
ANIMALS
Have you forgotten what we were like then
when we were still first rate
and the day came fat with an apple in its mouth
it's no use worrying about Time
but we did have a few tricks up our sleeves
and turned some sharp corners
the whole pasture looked like our meal
we didn't need speedometers
we could manage cocktails out of ice and water
I wouldn't want to be faster
or greener than now if you were with me O you
were the best of all my days
[1950]
ANIMALS
Have you forgotten what we were like then
when we were still first rate
and the day came fat with an apple in its mouth
it's no use worrying about Time
but we did have a few tricks up our sleeves
and turned some sharp corners
the whole pasture looked like our meal
we didn't need speedometers
we could manage cocktails out of ice and water
I wouldn't want to be faster
or greener than now if you were with me O you
were the best of all my days
[1950]
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Hipster Gambino
This whole "only taking 9 hours" thing has given me a lot of availability this semester. Instead of being super involved and productive, though, I spend a good amount of time on the internet. This morning, via a long, convoluted chain of events, I found a website that combines two of my favorite things: hipsters and Donald Glover. Well, actually it's Donald Glover's rapping alter-ego, Childish Gambino, but it's great none-the-less. I haven't listened to much of his rap as of yet (that will probably change in the next couple of hours), but his stand up is hilarious, as is his acting on Community. And, if you know me at all, you'll know I'm absolutely fascinated by everything hip and can be heard saying, "Hip, hip, hip hiphiphip," whilst walking past Manhattan Cafe and Max, the bar formerly known as The Max Canada. Clearly, I'm not hip as I have a blogspot instead of a tumblr, but that does not detract from my love of hipness. Moving on, the blog is called Hipster Childish Gambino and it combines pictures of hipsters with Childish Gambino lyrics and generally just makes me giggle. Also, the girl that writes it is apparently from Alabama just like me, so I think we're probably going to be friends.
Monday, April 4, 2011
New York, New York
To quote my friends, "It's all happening." In a few months I will be a proud resident of that great metropolis so disparaged by cowboys and so esteemed by hopeful immigrants, New York City. What am I going to do up there, you may ask. I have no idea. Where am I going to live? Not entirely certain of that either. But I'm 22, and if I can't embrace uncertainty right now, when can I?
All this talk of the big move sent me back to some of my favorite poets, the so-called New York School, especially Frank O'Hara and Ted Berrigan. I don't know if it's their respective styles, their subject-matter, their words, or my post-adolescent idealism, but few poets have ever meant more to me than these guys. It was as I was reading over some of my favorite poems that I noticed a huge injustice has been dealt to Mr. Berrigan. His short poem "Things to do in New York City" is almost impossible to find on the internet, a huge problem when you're looking for advice on just that topic. It's as if the internet gods have decided that this beautiful piece of writing isn't worthy of their hallowed domains. So, I shall here right this egregious injustice with a transcription of said poem.
"Things to do in New York City"
for Peter Schjeldahl
Wake up high up
frame bent & turned on
Moving slowly &
by the numbers
light cigarette
Dress in basic black
& reading a lovely old man's book
BY THE WATERS OF MANHATTAN
change
flashback
play cribbage on the Williamsburg Bridge
watching the boats sail by
the sun, like a monument,
move slowly up the sky
above the bloody rush
break yr legs & break yr heart
kiss the girls & make them cry
loving the gods & seeing them die
celebrate your own
& everyone else's birth:
Make friends forever
& go away.
To hear some more of Ted Berrigan's poems (including this one) go here.
To read some of Frank O'Hara's go here, to listen go here. I recommend "A True Account of Talking to the Sun at Fire Island."
Well, that's all I have to say for now, and so I say adieu.
Listen to this great song that's greatly at odds with the rest of this post!
"West Coast", by Coconut Records
All this talk of the big move sent me back to some of my favorite poets, the so-called New York School, especially Frank O'Hara and Ted Berrigan. I don't know if it's their respective styles, their subject-matter, their words, or my post-adolescent idealism, but few poets have ever meant more to me than these guys. It was as I was reading over some of my favorite poems that I noticed a huge injustice has been dealt to Mr. Berrigan. His short poem "Things to do in New York City" is almost impossible to find on the internet, a huge problem when you're looking for advice on just that topic. It's as if the internet gods have decided that this beautiful piece of writing isn't worthy of their hallowed domains. So, I shall here right this egregious injustice with a transcription of said poem.
"Things to do in New York City"
for Peter Schjeldahl
Wake up high up
frame bent & turned on
Moving slowly &
by the numbers
light cigarette
Dress in basic black
& reading a lovely old man's book
BY THE WATERS OF MANHATTAN
change
flashback
play cribbage on the Williamsburg Bridge
watching the boats sail by
the sun, like a monument,
move slowly up the sky
above the bloody rush
break yr legs & break yr heart
kiss the girls & make them cry
loving the gods & seeing them die
celebrate your own
& everyone else's birth:
Make friends forever
& go away.
To hear some more of Ted Berrigan's poems (including this one) go here.
To read some of Frank O'Hara's go here, to listen go here. I recommend "A True Account of Talking to the Sun at Fire Island."
Well, that's all I have to say for now, and so I say adieu.
Listen to this great song that's greatly at odds with the rest of this post!
"West Coast", by Coconut Records
Monday, February 14, 2011
If My Friends Were Famous
My totally normal and dignified friend Emily Elizabeth Burgis (not to be confused with Emily Elizabeth of Clifford the Big Red Dog fame) and I are, more than likely, two of the funniest people on the planet. I'm not being pompous, I'm just being honest. We spend hours talking in an assortment of accents about an assortment of topics including, but not limited to: bourginess, cults, Italy, booze, Scooby-Doo, really anything that happens to come on television or pop into our little brains. We also like to say "boom" at the end of phrases for emphasis. Sometimes just to say it. And, if I do say so myself, we are freaking hilarious. This afternoon, Christina and I had to talk Emily out of going to a "meeting" in the Ambassador Room at the Holiday Inn with a woman named Claire Elliot who had gotten Emily's information from an undisclosed source and had offered her the chance at an "internship" that paid up to $8,000. In this context, "meeting" means kidnapping and "internship" means cult induction. Either that or pyramid scheme. Back to the issue at hand, it is an acute understanding of our incredible God-given hilarity that has led us to the conclusion that we should have our own television show. It's going to be called "If My Friends Were Famous" and we're planning on pitching it to CBS. I'd prefer NBC, but they have a pretty successful line-up already, and FOX has Glee to compete with, so I figured the channel that features Two and a Half Men and about 8 different variations of How I Met Your Mother would probably be the easiest sell. The show will be a sort of Seinfeld meets the Real World; a situational reality comedy about nothing where there is little to no drama or sex, but mostly just really, really ridiculous girls getting drunk and bro-ing around with horrible fake English accents. Be sure to check your local listings this fall. I think it will be big in Romania.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)