December 19, 2008

Work Life Balance for Realio


Last night at my office party, there was an erotic belly dancer putting on a show in reception. There were also crazy holiday hats, models, a bartender who thought rum was the same as vodka, and I hung out in the studio and chatted about slacking off and boxing. Sometimes I have to wonder, where the eff do I work?! I would go on about this, but I have a serious fear that someone I work with will find my blog or maybe they already read it. I mean it is on the internet after all. If you work with me, and you are reading this, you should know that I have nothing but good things to say. I'm also a little taken aback and there is a weird look on my face sometimes because I'm not used to unconventional jobs. Well that isn't true. I once worked at a drug dealing Italian restaurant. I've also worked at Late Night Penn State: The Craft where mostly Asians and a few Dungeons and Dragons fans would come and paint cheap wooden things and ask me how to make green (Go back to Kindergarten and then ask me). However, more recently, I worked in corporate hell and it's nothing like this new gig. I'm working from home right now! WHAT!

Except I'm so blonde that I forgot to save one of the documents I need to my desktop. You mean I can't connect to the network from my couch? Damn. To my credit, I packed up my computer after two drinks and a sip of the brand new fad, "Bacardi and Soda Water." So delicious.

My best and most long-term friends are coming to visit tomorrow. I've known Erin since I was 3 and then I met Kirby in 2nd grade. Then I introduced Kirby to Erin and Kirby introduced us to Tiff in 5th grade. Then I had home room with Alison and Schramm in 6th grade and Alicia moved to Pen Argyl in 9th grade. The senior class trip sealed the deal and we're sisters now! Corny? Yes. But I don't care. So I was explaining the joys of Hoboken compared to the city, and I think I hit the nail on the head. Hoboken is the 6th borough of Manhattan, but it has more Villanova fratastic financial types as well as these.

I had a really horrible week, what with being sick and my crazy mother and other stressful things, involving drinking, but then I talked to my awesomeness equivalent and personal adventure motivator last night, and now I'm just excited for trips and moving to South America and buying my own slot machine. You know who you are! Do you even read this?

Okay enough procrastinating. I have to do research and then schlep into the city for a Darden girls reunion of shopping, sledding, gossiping and joyness. I LOVE SNOW and FRIDAY.. and working from home :)

December 17, 2008

Postcards From Yo Momma


WHAT! I just got the daughter's equivalent to a Dear John letter. No, my mom did not break up with me while I was away at war in 1944. She got married. F*cking A Scott! 

November 26, 2006: Almost exactly two years ago, I wrote an uncensored letter to my mom and never sent it. To sum it up, I feel like the responsible adult a lot of the times, like our roles are reversed. When I'm at home, I step up to the plate and put on a straight face. When I'm on my own, I'm reckless and moody because it's my way of dealing with the stress of holding it all together. My grandfather (her father) actually comes to me with advice about fixing things in the family and how I have to be responsible and not let them down. It was my job to get my angsty mom to stay in PA and not date him and to make sure my sisters know how to do the right thing and stay in school and not get tattoos. Clearly I failed in almost all of the above, so the least I can do now is get married soon to the perfect man with German roots, chivalry, a successful career, a good family, and knowledge about cars..... (I wish that was sarcasm)

So here's how the letter never sent ended: "I'm asking you to cut the crap, Mom. Stop bullshitting around and acting like a child. Stop pretending to be like the immature asshole you claim to want to spend your life with. Snap out of it. Do what you want, but let me know. Thanks." What I meant was TALK TO ME. Don't write to me after the fact. 

I've developed a poker face neutrality towards my mom's boyfriend after about 13 years of hell. When they move to Seattle, she already knows I won't go to her house unless I know for certain that he is out of the country on business and I have a copy of his plane ticket in my hands. I don't hate him. I feel bad for him, because he's so immature and hostile. I even stand up for him to my family who actually can't stand him. However, this would not be the kind of marriage I would celebrate with a glass of champagne and a tear and a giggle followed by some dancing to "Sweet Caroline." No, it's more like I will punch a pillow and vent in a blog, while the little sister freaks out and the middle sister takes shots of natural grain alcohol from a medicine dropper (we get a yearly supply for our Momma).

Maybe I should send this letter. Funny how it still applies, only now I can say "Congratulations on traveling to Reno last weekend to marry the only person in the world that makes my stomach contract and begin gnawing at itself as a sign that I should "Fight or Flight." I'm so happy I couldn't get ahold of you on Saturday and was worried about you all weekend because no one knew you were in Reno. Or maybe you were in Vegas. That's classy. Nice move. I talk to you almost everyday, yet you never thought to mention that, oh hey, I'm getting legally married this weekend. Thanks for the heads up. I'm sorry if I don't keep the lil memo you sent and I'm sorry if we post it online. If I were to stoop to your level, I would totally go to Vegas and get married and then send you a postcard. No, actually, to be fair, I would start wearing a ring and put a picture of me and a guy in front of a wedding chapel in the living room for the next 5 years and just make you wonder without answering questions. 

THEN I would send you a postcard. "Dear Mom, I want you to be happy always and follow your heart. I got married when I was 13 years old to someone I know you don't like. He's an asshole, but I'm in love and I see someone that no one else can see because I have divine perception. I'm going to move to Germany and change my name so don't bother staying in contact. I love you so much that I might give my next child your name as their middle name. Yes, I already have children too. I hid them in my closet. I love you always, more than you know, Ellyn xoxo"

I mean I knew this day would come, I just never thought I'd have to hear about it through my sisters who got little note cards bearing the news. I'm sure my letter is chillin' in the mailbox too, but I think I'll go take a nap now. All this fuss has rendered me exhausted. 

December 16, 2008

Torture Tuesday After Rockin the Free World


I'm now taking requests. This one goes out to J9.

Dow Jones and Company invited me to see the Neil Young concert last night. Well actually they invited my boss, but he couldn't go so he asked if I wanted to and if I "even know who Neil Young is." The answer is yes. I kind of had to man up about going though, because I apply his music to a certain disastrous relationship. I made myself listen to "Old Man," "Southern Man," and "Down by the River" all week to develop a tolerance, so to speak.

I was still recovering from the weekend, but I was thinking the night would be pretty chill. We had box seats with Barrons and Wall Street Journal, which conjures pictures of cigars and stock talk. When I walked into the suite, there were three reps who just got back from taking "SHOTS!!" Awkward laugh. Really? Lesson 1. Never let a sales rep make your drinks. Especially never let a male sales rep make your drinks after he has taken shots. I politely downed a cranberry vodka that must've had half a cup of Grey Goose in it. Then I made a fake drink with only soda water in it. Either I have tolerance issues and my liver no longer processes alcohol or I can no longer tell how strong my drinks are. Anyway, we chatted with the reps and one kept shouting "you shoulda brought your mom!" I got a text from my mom that said "I'm very envious," and he was apparently excited about that. We didn't talk about the account at all, which is fine but somehow (note I am at least 10, if not 20 years younger than all of the reps and I'm the only client there) we ended up yelling at the stage, "FREE WORLD!!!!! PLAY FREE WORLD!" I do love the harmonica.

Neil was pretty friggin hipster, wearing Walmart acid washed jeans. He may or may not have had a mullet. Wilco opened and they were awesome. I actually zoned out and almost fell asleep. Neil played for at least 2 hours. Maybe longer. All I know is that I left at 12:30 and the guy was still playing. Isn't he like 80 years old? God, he's so damn cool. Somehow I had the worst hangover of all time. Maybe the top shelf liquor was too much, but I swear I had 2 drinks made by the rep. I made a weak drink for myself and then I had half a Heineken. That's really not enough to make me sick, but sure enough I cursed the stock market all day long and whined a whole lot. Unreal. Then we had our grab bag dirty Santa exchange at work. My secret random gift for the pile was an Absolut gift set. Somehow I wound up with a Homer Simpson Chia Pet.

Torture Tuesday never lets me down...

J9, not sure if I represented the evening very well, but honestly that's all I got. At least the rage is gone!

December 11, 2008

Modern Art: Booze, Bums, and Bimbos?


To set the scene, imagine it's pouring in Manhattan and parked cars are actually sitting in a foot of water. It's also 38 degrees and December. Naturally, a perfect evening for gallery hopping in Chelsea. Who knew that there are more than 200 modern art galleries between 16th and 27th Streets? Today was a heads up, gold star day for NYC.

Act I, in which we get out of work at 5pm and are actually too early for the exhibit openings. Janine and I walked into a few galleries and wandered around. When uncomfortable, I start laughing hysterically. We didn't stay in the first gallery for very long because there was an odd little number with children and dildos and also there was no wine. From there we went to a few more galleries near 24th Street, including my favorite exhibit by Peter Callesen, "Folded Thoughts." I imagined Peter being 25 years old and from Brooklyn, but in reality he is 40 and Danish. He works with paper as his primary medium, and someday his art will be in my bedroom, even if the artist himself is a bit out of my league: http://www.petercallesen.com/index.html

Act II, in which it is now 6pm and the galleries close for the openings...huh? We got lost in a building with a locked elevator and upside down signs and then assumed we probably were the exhibit and I wondered where the funhouse mirrors were. Jokes on us. We're live art. Can the pretentious and curious art observers find their way back to the street? We did! Then we went to a real live opening at the Stellan Holm Gallery of Martin Mull's "Seven Deadly Sins." I thought it was a photo exhibition, however it turned out to be realistic paintings that, I couldn't help but notice, each cost more than my annual salary. We had a plastic cup of wine and then scurried across the street because we saw a giant Paris Hilton painting.

Now the fun really begins. I should've been concerned when they were serving bottles of Yuengling (hard to chug). I should've noticed that the scruffy artistic weirdo wishing me happy holidays was really homeless and taking advantage of the booze. Instead, I kept scolding myself to "stare at a painting, stare at a painting" so I wouldn't stare at the tall man wearing a blazer with horses on it and a green felt hat or the woman with a bad dye job taking his photo or the baby screaming from across the room. I had to tell myself to contemplate Paris Hilton's ass, so I wouldn't eavesdrop on a conversation about Ghandi. When we finally finished our beer and left, I was sort of in shock from being in a totally different world. It's scary that I'm more comfortable with sales reps than I am with art collectors... or whoever they are. I should note that I studied art from age 11 until I graduated from high school. I took private classes and all that jazz and I have an "art seal" on my diploma, however this particular art scene left me feeling sorta flustered!

Act III in which we go to class? We went to the Lehmann Maupin Gallery. I was feeling silly from the Paris Hilton "experience" and I was just about to spit my wine onto a painting from laughing when the gallery attendant said, "We're about to begin!" Oh Jesus. So then Tim Rollins and his team, Kids of Survival, talked about their work for an hour. 50% of it was very interesting and I might even think about it sometime, but the other half was basically in Yiddish. I have no idea what they were saying. All I know is that Tim is somehow from Maine and the Bronx, his 15 year old assistant looks exactly like McLovin and the other one was so attractive and had such a perfect jawbone that it would've been hard to decipher the Yiddish even if I could speak the language.

We didn't know if Tim was gay or straight or insane or smart or what. He talked about his students "coming to him" and how he lived in the Chelsea Hotel once because he thought Warhol still lived there. Then he kept talking about a metamorphosis symphony and I just kept staring at the jawbone and telling myself to think of dead puppies so I wouldn't laugh out loud and get called on in class.

Act IV in which we cannot believe the evening and end up in the Trailer Park Lounge & Grill for a nightcap of draft beer and nachos. This city never ceases to surprise me.

P.S. Susan, please move into my converted living room and work in a gallery so I can go to all of the openings and you can pour me complimentary wine! No, but really. It's amazing.

December 10, 2008

Marshmallows


I just had corn syrup and sugar for dinner and now I'm watching TLC in the living room without climate control, while researching whether or not I can microwave certain foods or not. I wound up on this website which makes me happy to be a girl: www.wannabebigforums.com

I went to CVS after work to buy light bulbs and hot chocolate. But I specifically needed Swiss Miss Marshmallow Lover's Hot Chocolate and a certain size light bulb. Of course they only had gross Nestle, but it was 2 for $3 and then of course I got the wrong size light bulbs. I can't have hot chocolate without marshmallows (duh), so I bought a bag of them. That's the thing about NYC. When you want something, you're so used to the instant gratification of going out and getting it, that you can't settle for something else or just forget about it. So I had hot chocolate with way too much water in it and wayyyyy too many mini marshmallows on top. It was good until it wasn't.

Also at CVS today (it was rather eventful), I encountered the two most annoying children ever. They were not cute at all. Normally I love kids. When I play with my little cousins, I actually want kids. Right now I'm watching John and Kate plus 8 and I adore those kids, except for Mady because she's abrasive. However, these CVS children were so grating on my nerves that I thought about joining a convent. They were probably 4 and 2, but they had stupid names (a girl named Eddie? Are you serious?) and they were crying and playing with the credit card scanner and climbing on the magazine racks. They were just abnormally repulsive, probably because their mother stepped off the pages of Good Housekeeping.

Tomorrow I'm attempting an art gallery bar tour. Well really it's just that galleries give you complimentary glasses of wine, but if you go to enough galleries.....
http://artcards.cc/

I'm getting to the point where I don't want to go to sleep, because my nightmares are so awful. I feel like a child. I'm eating marshmallows for dinner and having nightmares. Where's my mommy?

December 2, 2008

I suck at Craigslist


Tonight I went to Beauty Bar near Union Square. I got a cosmo and a green manicure and I learned that the place really used to be a beauty salon and about 10 years ago, they made it into a bar. The vintage salon chairs are still there and walls are sparkly! It was kind of like being in a secondhand speakeasy. Now there are Beauty Bars in San Fran, Vegas and LA, but NYC is the legit original.

I also learned that you can literally find everything on Craigslist. I got my job on there, but you can also get paid to have someone experiment with your hair, you can make friends, go on an art gallery bar tour and even get an audition! That's the other thing. I live in freaking New York City. I'm the kid who wanted to be a writer and an actor, and instead I'm a media planner. What am I thinking?! The least I can do with my extra hours every evening is audition or take classes. Note to self: cut the crap and start taking advantage of the center of the world....I'm such a slacker!!!

December 1, 2008

When did I become a client?!



So when did I grow up? No really. Today I was almost wearing a suit and I went to Bloomberg to meet with about 6 sales people...alone. While I was sitting in the lobby, which looked like the place in which George Jetson worked (Spacely Space Sprockets?), I actually started laughing at myself. When did I stop being the 12 year old kid crying because I had a piano recital or the 17 year old blasting Hanson and JLo out of the 78 Buick? I mean I'm not taking it seriously and because of that I can have fun with it. I prefer to think of it as performing, rather than working. Except when I'm actually in a cube. Then it's pure, rat in a cage, labor.

There was this giant metal cloud at Bloom that means the future is unpredictable and out of our control. Who knew that the stock market believes in destiny? Also who knew that Michael Bloomberg got fired from his early job at Salomon Brothers for gross incompetence (huh?!) and was given a $10 million severance package before he started his own damn company and then went on to become the mayor. Since he already makes so much money, he apparently only accepts $1.00 a year for his state service. Yes, a dollar. So I got the tour of the Bloomberg building because I am in fact.. the client, and then I met with people from TV, radio, online, and print. A few random people popped in to meet me too, including an old guy called "The Senator." I'm not sure, but I think they were surprised to see that I'm really just a kid. This is what happens when you're on job and title three in a less than 2 years. Scary.

Then I went home and now I'm watching "First Class All the Way" on Bravo because who knows? Maybe I'll have a huge ego one day and I'll terrorize travel agents to the point that they have to travel along with me and my empty shell Wall Street baller betrothed to make sure we're satisfied. Until then I'm gonna keep smoke and mirroring my way to the weekend...maybe pick up a few tricks, swindle a few checks! Not really.

November 19, 2008

November 19th: And then there is death, to remind us that most things are trivial and to remind us of what is really important. It's hard to fathom elation when all you feel is rage and sickness, but beyond this world, what survives is just love and wisdom and the good, right?

Death be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for, thou art not so,
For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow,
Die not.

November 25th: My grandfather and his brother are two of the most respectable, decent, hardworking men I've ever met or encountered. I measure everyone else up against them, so of course it's hard to believe chivalry and integrity exist in my generation at all. My family was essentially a dual patriarchy led by them. The most important pillars: family, service, history, and doing the right thing. It's hard to imagine moving forward without my uncle, but when you witness 900 people waiting in line at church to pay their last respects, you realize that you're lucky to have known him and even luckier to call him a relative. I wish I could put the rest of my family in a one place so no one can ever get hurt again, but that isn't living. It's about how you treat other people in the end and the example you set for your siblings, children, and grandchildren. If I have a fraction of the character they have, I'll consider myself blessed with their genes. If I marry someone of their caliber, it will be because I know what I need to find. We don't understand why this happened, but we know we can live a good life if it's based on his....

November 18, 2008

As Long As We All Shall Live


Dear future married people:

Do not get married to someone who doesn't think college is a good idea for your children if you think that it is. Don't marry someone who spends money in an entirely different way than you. If you hoard money, don't marry someone who buys 4-wheelers, game consoles, and pool toys every day. If you blow money like a rock star in Vegas, don't marry your responsible financial advisor even if she's cute. You will not change and you cannot change anyone else. Don't divorce a guy who won't pay for your kids unless ordered by the court. Don't get married if you can't get divorced civilly.

Don't get divorced if you will need to go through your oldest child to talk to your former beloved. Believe me. My cynicism and skepticism is not inherent. It was acquired being the peacemaker between my divorced parents and feeling responsible for two younger siblings since the ripe age of SEVEN. I'm beginning to think the battle will NEVER end! Divorce only means you don't have to live together anymore. Now you get to argue through courts and lawyers and your blindsided spawn forever! Til death do you part is for real, even if you legally relinquish your tax cuts and remove yourself from your joint checking account. You can never escape a PROMISE!!! Also it sucks for your kids and if you do get divorced, please know that we do not care how much child support you pay and when you cut it off as long as we have what we want! We also don't care to know why our other parent (50% of our genetic being) sucks. It makes us resent you. We don't want to know why you got divorced either. We prefer to think you're irresponsible, abnormal, and crazy, and we hope to have learned from your mistakes. Before you say "I do," remember the worst fights you've ever had and realize that those fights could become your everyday life someday. If you think about having children, remember that they will be one HALF of your spouse forever. Make sure you love that person unconditionally and promise to always be an adult around your kids even when you get divorced. I mean if!! True love is forever and I'm sure you'll all find your soulmate cosmic heartthrob and you will live happily ever after, but PLEASE do NOT get married if you MIGHT get divorced.

Thank you for your attention!

-16 Years of Annoyed

Blogroll:
http://www.passiveaggressivenotes.com/
http://www.postcardsfromyomomma.com/
http://stuffwhitepeoplelike.com/
http://www.overheardintheoffice.com/
http://cakewrecks.blogspot.com/
http://fnerk.com/yousuckatcraigslist/

November 17, 2008

I Love You, I Love You Not


Today was one of those days where I hate routine and I hate NY and I hate my desk and my life choices. I'm going to start keeping track of days I love NY and days I hate NY and in March, whichever is higher will determine whether I stay or go. Nothing triggered the resentment today, but I woke up freezing because my heater doesn't work. Then the path train took forever and also it's Monday. Now I feel really nauseous because thoughts that are supposed to be chained down resurfaced. I swear it's because of the season, but I still wonder if I made a mistake regarding..this guy. I tried to tell myself it was for the best, but I'm still not 110% convinced. I think I just wonder and wondering leads to regret and regret leads to insanity, so I need to find eternal sunshine and keep holding out until I find the disgusting adoration that my grandparents still have 55 years later. I'm serious. I heard my 75 year old grandfather allude to something I will not type. I need to stop measuring potential up against the freakishly less than 5 perfect moments ever. While I'm at it, I should stop talking to another elusive disaster located hundreds of miles away...

Highlights: Today I emailed my high school calculus teacher and told her I have a math job and that I'm sorry for always questioning the use of math in the real world. I'm planning a little reunion with the Rice cousins who my sisters and I haven't seen in 7 years.

Listen to:
Making Out::No Doubt
A Sight to Behold::Eisley
The End::Jason Reeves
Secret Life::Thriving Ivory
Nothing in My Way::Keane
Keeps Gettin' Better::Christina Aguilera
Come On Ger Higher::Matt Nathanson
Cath::Deathcab for Cutie
Pretty much any new commercial on TV right now (Apple, Dior...)

Read:
Distracted::Maggie Jackson
The Irregulars::Jennet Conant
I Was Told There'd Be Cake::Sloane Crosley
History of Love::Nicole Krauss

Watch:
Gossip Girl because it makes Sarah and I feel like our own lives are slightly less dramatic

Go to:
media idea of the day
site of the day

November 15, 2008

Is a House a Home?




I lived in the same house since I was born and now it's for sale. It's not that I'll miss the house or the stuff in it, but it's weird things that I can't imagine not experiencing. I'll miss the smell when I walk in the door. It's strongest in the kitchen, but I can't explain what it is. It's not a smell that will be anywhere else ever again because it's a combination of everything here. I'll miss coming home for the holidays with my sisters and having all four of us in the house again and running up and down the stairs (usually on all fours). I'll miss walking up the driveway at night and seeing all the stars but being scared to death of the garage. I'll miss the absolute silence except for the ticking of the living room clock and the settling base boards when I'm the last one to go to bed. It's sad that we won't ever play dress up in the office or have pool parties with the tacky owl lights. And we won't discover old toys in the attic since it's all getting sorted and donated. Today I found "The Jetsons Movie" and all of my old barrettes. Clearly I was the most stylish kid in school. Who else would have a barrette that looks like cookies and a spiral noodle? It's not stuff we need anymore, but it brings back memories and there isn't a common base to come back to when this is gone. I'll come home less, because I'll never feel as comfortable anywhere else unless it's my own apartment. The home base won't just be where my mom is, because she will live with her boyfriend and I'm still not a fan even after 10 years. I can't feel comfortable when I'm on edge and he's telling me about the history of the chili pepper. I guess the base will have to be where I am somehow. I don't know if I'll leave NY in the summer and I don't know where I'll end up, but I have to create a comfort zone now. I can't just go home to the country to pull myself together, so I need to be okay without it.

Never a dull moment on the home front. At least the essence of small town PA will still be here, even if I have to stay in Dad's garage now. Today at the dinner table, Pappy said, "That emo boy." What? How does he know what Emo is? Then Aunt Lyn said, "No his name is EMILIO. Not Emo," and all was right with the world again. I started to explain what emo is to them and then just stopped because there's no point. Also, Sarah said she is bringing her bf home next weekend and Dad said, "tell him I have a lot of guns." Then he tried to text her something and didn't know T9 was on because he wasn't wearing glasses. So it said something like "Biggest ten network.Im resenting thatsee I cantext." Then he said, "tell Mike he better hope I shoot as well as I text." Poor Mike. Poor any boy any of us bring home ever to either side of the family. I'm pretty sure home will always be in Nazareth, Wind Gap, Bangor, and Pen Argyl PA. The house won't be ours, but the small towns, platter dining, and hunting culture will still be here. Today I drove past a garage with 3 cases of camoflauge Busch with the logo in bright orange writing. Sometimes they put the Eagles or Steelers logo on beer, and then sometimes they make beer to match the hunting gear in case the beer needs to blend into the woods too...

November 13, 2008

IDK, IDC


Hi.

I'm kind of mad because I made myself listen to Smashing Pumpkins and Eminem so I could get inspired to paint. But then I had to go to Pilates, so I'm not inspired to paint anymore. I started, but it's now a work in progress which I absolutely hate. Also it's raining out and this very rude couple didn't hold the door for me. I had to dig through my jacket trying to find my nubbin key pass thing and then, omfg, they didn't hold the elevator either. I kicked the door and cursed at them after they ascended. Seriously? Who are you. Here's some spaghetti. You're very egotistical.

Before that I was thinking about how great the drums are in "Toy Soldiers" by Eminem. Whatta tool he is. I was also getting used to working 9-5 and being thankful for my chill, DMB listening boss. I sit next to a guy named Charlay and Steph is hoping he will bite me, so I can say "Charlay bit me" and put myself on youtube. Because where do I see myself in 5 years? On youtube, duh. My target for most of my accounts is C-Suite (CEO, CFO) managers, hedge fund investors, i-bankers, and other cigar smoking rich people. I might advertise on scotch bottles and leather. Talk about out of the box! I'm learning about finance and stocks, an unexpected side effect.

I only spent about $5 this week which is a miracle but it's only because I have negative money. For the record, the $5 was spent on a stupid latte. UGH. My mom never ever answers her phone and its infuriating. A cell phone is supposed to be attached to you like another brain. How can you not have it? Where does it go? I don't get it.

I need food. "I'm so effing hungry. I'm so effing mad!" -Trevor

Bye.

November 12, 2008

Waste of Space


I'm freezing and I would like to go to a beach.

Sometimes I think I could stay in my field for a long time. I actually have to think for this new job, so I like it more. My brain is stimulated for once. I'm one of 2 media people in the entire company, so I do all brands including new business. Do they know I'm only 23? I'm fairly certain they think I'm three years out of college since it's my third job and maybe they just didn't look at my resume dates. Oh well, I am sure I'll manage. Today I had lunch with BusinessWeek magazine (delicious real Italian) and I also got Knicks box seats for Sunday which is nice. I just like that media is a small world in the city. I need to move around the country to see where I want to end up, but technically, I could get used to this and not get bored. Except this morning a little Asian lady stood way too close to me on the Path and there was a lot of room for her to back off. It scared me. Also it's great getting out at 5, however two extra hours a night is a lot of time. I'm forced to have hobbies and think and go to the gym and talk to people so I don't just watch TV and surf youtube or something (which is what I'm doing right now).

In other unrelated, insignificant news, Taylor Swift is my new Kelly Clarkson. Kelly got me through some tough times and I can relate to almost all of her songs, but Taylor is replacing her which is crazy! Okay that was a stupid sidenote. Now that I have nothing to complain about, I need something really interesting to happen in life. It's weird to just be "happy." I don't know what to do with myself. I really want to see The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. I just got chills when I saw the preview. See? When I'm in a good mood, I don't have passion so I can't write. Maybe I'm better at ranting than I am at writing. I'm too on the surface when I'm calm. Also I am apparently hosting some musicians in my living room for the night. I'm a fan so it's the least I can do. I gotta go because I'm not saying anything anyway....

November 10, 2008

New York City: Act III, Scene 1


Over the weekend, my medium sister visited. We went to the Top of the Rock and took pictures of the city. I decided the city is still overwhelming even when you can see over it and through it. The idea of Manhattan is "romantic," but the reality is exhausting. Friday night we had dinner in Hoboken at a place called Zack's with some friends and it was so fun. Saturday, Lisa and Colin came from Philly and we all watched the Penn State game (ugh) and then went out in the Village (ugh). I really must learn to appreciate my crazy 20's, but that probably won't happen until I'm 29.

In other news: I now work for an international advertising agency (The Man) with a "Damn the Man" approach, which is interesting to say the least. When I arrived this morning, I went to my high walled cube and found a copy of the books, Death to All Sacred Cows and Fahrenheit 451. The first one was written by management, so that makes sense. Not sure about the other one. I haven't read it, but I should and I know it's an ironic book about censorship and the dystopia born when creative free will is outlawed. Three scenarios are possible. One, the girl that sat there before me forgot it and no one knew what to do with it so they did nothing and left it. Two, it's a cryptic message from my employers to challenge the system, ask questions, and not burn the book they wrote. Or three, it was placed there by the Universe as a clue that I should be an English teacher instead. If it's still there tomorrow, I shall take it home and read it.

I met almost everyone in the agency today... about 20-25 people including the authors of the first book left in my cube. One of the management mavens sits in his office in a little 5th grade school desk chair (the right handed desk is attached to the orange plastic seat). There is nothing else in the room besides him and his laptop and it smells mysteriously like hampster pellets. That could just be hampsters on the mind because of this video on youtube, however I do have an impeccable super human sense of smell. Curious. Very curious. Then I set up my laptop and started sifting through decks and flowcharts to learn about the clients. This is new for me, because I only ever worked on huge mega brands that everyone knows about. Now I'm on a concrete company (that's cement, not "stable"), an investment management firm, and a construction equipment rental company. The targets are all in the C-Suite demo, aka Wall Street ballers, so basically I will be BFF with reps from Forbes and Money Magazine which will be a real trip.

The best part is that I took an hour long lunch and left at 5, which is per usual apparently. There are also some anti-Trevor noms working there, an old school soda machine with free soda, and we use mugs instead of throwing away cups. If my year in corporate hell taught me nothing else, I did learn to feel incredibly guilty for all the trees I killed to leave a paper trail that no one will ever need. I'm feeling zero anxiety today and I'm thinking this was a good move. My resume is very interesting, I'm on level with everyone else I graduated with despite changing companies like I change socks, and I know it's okay to move on whenever I feel unhappy. Life is too short to be stuck in a job that you hate. I don't have to love this, but at least I can be healthy and have more time to do what I really want to do after work (take classes, go to the gym, read, breathe). Honestly, there is always an escape. I will never ever worry about getting a job in any city at any time in advertising because smart businesses advertise through recessions anyway (I learned that today). People always say its hard to get a new job and I don't get it. This is my third job since graduation and it's not just because I'm lucky or because I have ADD or that I'm a bullshit artist. I just know what I don't want and then focus on what I want until I get it. Not that I really know what I want, but I'm just saying. Until I either work up the guts to start my own agency and write a book about it or quit the industry to teach in a small town, I will attempt to sail through the next few months with a little less angst and rage.

P.S. Any book suggestions? I'm going to need reading material.

November 6, 2008

Sophomore Year in the Real World

I'm turning a page in my blog life and converting to Google's blogspot from Livejournal. I'm no longer 18 years old thankfully, so I feel I need an upgrade. Not to mention Google is taking over the world and I'm jumping on the bandwagon before I'm totally out of the loop. Times New Roman isn't cutting it anymore. I'm a child of the digital revolution and I just need more from my blank pages. I want sidebars and autosaving and videos and audio clips! I mean even Postsecret is on blogspot!


To access my archived material from January 2005 through yesterday 2008...



I'm vaguely sad about this for some reason. Livejournal was there through my first frat party, waves of different friends and classes, vacations (see May 31, 2006), my first real job, and a year and a half in New York City. It was even there when I apparently didn't write at all in 2007, or at least I didn't write in public. Livejournal was a procrastination device when I couldn't bring myself to care about the history of math. It was a passive aggressive forum for talking about people in code when we were young and dramatic. It got me through the worst job I ever had (even worse than the gas station), and it was good enough to log my life til I saw the greener grass on blogger.com. Looking back, I can sleep at night knowing my life is still ironic (January 30, 2005) and I still use lyrics when I can't find my own words (February 7, 2005). I promise to still be a cynical optimist (October 23, 2008) and I can guarantee I'll continue to be crazy and sarcastic (February 12, 2006). Rest in peace past entries and years. We have a new President, I'm starting a new job on Monday, and it's pouring outside. Here's to my future and may my blogs be vaguely entertaining and thoughtful... or whatever.