Speaking of New Chapters, I've finally decided to officially move my blog to Curiosity Matters.
PLEASE FOLLOW MY MUSINGS HERE.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Thursday, February 17, 2011
A New Chapter?
So once again, I'm in between coasts and really don't know where life will take me although I have a feeling I'll end up back in New York. I guess it's pretty exciting but I definitely didn't spend enough time exploring San Francisco or the West Coast. And I really don't want to think about having to find a new apartment and roommates. I can't imagine I'll have as much luck as I did in SF at finding a great apartment and fantastic roommates, but we'll see.
This afternoon, I went out to lunch with my mom at a local cafe. She kind of tricked me. I thought we were going to go to the larger Cheesecake Factory because I've had an overwhelming and unexplainable craving for pasta for the last few days. But when I got in the car, she demanded we go some place more local. Okay.. I guess it was a misunderstanding. For me, going to local restaurants in my hometown is kind of torture. I really don't need to make small talk with people my mother knows from town. And I really don't need to be introduced as the "older daughter" only to get mistaken for a recent high school graduate. I kid you not. This happens every time. Actually, today's experience was so typical I could have just had deja vu.
SCENE ONE
Let me set the scene for you. We enter a nearly full cafe mostly filled with people over 50. My mother and I sit down right smack in the middle of two tables that are only about a foot apart from us. Right away, she says hello to the table next to us, introducing me.. blah blah blah. They make small talk. Two minutes later, she recognizes the woman on her other side. They make small talk. She congratulates the woman because she had recently heard her son was engaged. I ask who her son is. She says that I'm probably too young and don't know him. Yup. Her son is 5 years younger than me and is friends with a childhood friend's younger brother. I don't know him because he's younger than me. She apologizes for the mistake and the whole table nods in agreement that I'm better off looking way younger than I am.
END SCENE
SCENE TWO
After dropping my mother off, I head to the Riverside Square Mall to return a few things. It is incredibly upscale and usually quiet although to my delight, they have recently opened an H&M. I walk around admiring the hair of an Orthodox woman who is, from what I gather, shopping with her husband. She looks incredibly young and I try to figure out how she got her hair to be so thick and shiny with a near professional blow out until I realize, oh yeah, it's a wig. Orthodox women have to shave their heads and wear wigs when they get married. A few minutes later, I enter Victoria's Secret where I hear the Pains of Being Pure at Heart playing in the store. I'm stunned. One of the band members went to both my high school and college. In fact, one time sophomore year in high school, we both got yelled at because we slid out my bedroom window and hung out on my roof. According to my dad, we could have fallen through and broken the roof. Right.
END SCENE
SCENE THREE
I make my last stop at Barnes & Noble. I would have preferred waiting to purchase a new Moleskin at Borders assuming they carry them and they go on sale, but my Moleskin needs were pressing. As many of my friends know, I'm obsessed with notebooks. I stare at the selections, intensely imagining myself with either a hard covered or soft covered black Moleskin. Red or black. I curse myself for leaving my hard covered, black Moleskin in San Francisco and finally settle on a perfect replacement - soft covered black. My obsessiveness in finding the perfect notebook ties back to a need to start a new chapter in my life. If, God forbid, I made the wrong notebook choice, my new life would be off to a wrong start, right? Yes, knowing my compulsions and quarks in the first step to recovery. It takes me another 10 minutes to choose the perfect Thank You note cards for my job interviews. I finally settle on a delicate case of cards that feature an Eiffel Tower with a scripted "merci" in magenta. So here I am entering a new chapter of my life - a potential new job, definitely a different area of advertising, a new decade (30 in April), potentially a new apartment and even new city (Brooklyn). But on my journey, I have equipped myself with the same type of notebook that I used to plan out my change. The cards I chose reflect my love of Paris and magenta. And actions told me that our purchases strongly reflect who we are in deeper and nuanced ways.
END SCENE
SCENE FOUR
After carefully selecting my purchases, I head to the cash register. With a sinking feeling, I recognize the woman at the register. I vaguely remember her being my boss at some job I had about 10 years ago. For some reason, I hope she doesn't recognize me, but she does. She says my face looks so familiar. I completely get her wrong even though I rarely try to guess people's name. Her name is not Dorothy and she's not my boss from Clinique. Nope. She worked with me at B. Dalton, the now defunct bookstore, previously owned by Barnes and Noble. It was one of my first after school jobs that I insisted on getting my senior year of high school. It's where I first heard about Harry Potter way back in 1999 when they were considered just children's books. It's where I first worked in a place that didn't involve sweating in a camp t-shirt. And here she was, working the cash register. Like me, she has probably gone through many hardships and experiences over the last 12 years but honestly hadn't aged a bit. The recent New York Times article about the failings of the publishing industry flashed in my mind. I think about how strongly I'm contemplating finally purchasing a Kindle. We both genuinely smile and wish each other well. As I walk away, I wonder, is this a new chapter? Or am I re-reading a different version of the same story?
END SCENE
This afternoon, I went out to lunch with my mom at a local cafe. She kind of tricked me. I thought we were going to go to the larger Cheesecake Factory because I've had an overwhelming and unexplainable craving for pasta for the last few days. But when I got in the car, she demanded we go some place more local. Okay.. I guess it was a misunderstanding. For me, going to local restaurants in my hometown is kind of torture. I really don't need to make small talk with people my mother knows from town. And I really don't need to be introduced as the "older daughter" only to get mistaken for a recent high school graduate. I kid you not. This happens every time. Actually, today's experience was so typical I could have just had deja vu.
SCENE ONE
Let me set the scene for you. We enter a nearly full cafe mostly filled with people over 50. My mother and I sit down right smack in the middle of two tables that are only about a foot apart from us. Right away, she says hello to the table next to us, introducing me.. blah blah blah. They make small talk. Two minutes later, she recognizes the woman on her other side. They make small talk. She congratulates the woman because she had recently heard her son was engaged. I ask who her son is. She says that I'm probably too young and don't know him. Yup. Her son is 5 years younger than me and is friends with a childhood friend's younger brother. I don't know him because he's younger than me. She apologizes for the mistake and the whole table nods in agreement that I'm better off looking way younger than I am.
END SCENE
SCENE TWO
After dropping my mother off, I head to the Riverside Square Mall to return a few things. It is incredibly upscale and usually quiet although to my delight, they have recently opened an H&M. I walk around admiring the hair of an Orthodox woman who is, from what I gather, shopping with her husband. She looks incredibly young and I try to figure out how she got her hair to be so thick and shiny with a near professional blow out until I realize, oh yeah, it's a wig. Orthodox women have to shave their heads and wear wigs when they get married. A few minutes later, I enter Victoria's Secret where I hear the Pains of Being Pure at Heart playing in the store. I'm stunned. One of the band members went to both my high school and college. In fact, one time sophomore year in high school, we both got yelled at because we slid out my bedroom window and hung out on my roof. According to my dad, we could have fallen through and broken the roof. Right.
END SCENE
SCENE THREE
I make my last stop at Barnes & Noble. I would have preferred waiting to purchase a new Moleskin at Borders assuming they carry them and they go on sale, but my Moleskin needs were pressing. As many of my friends know, I'm obsessed with notebooks. I stare at the selections, intensely imagining myself with either a hard covered or soft covered black Moleskin. Red or black. I curse myself for leaving my hard covered, black Moleskin in San Francisco and finally settle on a perfect replacement - soft covered black. My obsessiveness in finding the perfect notebook ties back to a need to start a new chapter in my life. If, God forbid, I made the wrong notebook choice, my new life would be off to a wrong start, right? Yes, knowing my compulsions and quarks in the first step to recovery. It takes me another 10 minutes to choose the perfect Thank You note cards for my job interviews. I finally settle on a delicate case of cards that feature an Eiffel Tower with a scripted "merci" in magenta. So here I am entering a new chapter of my life - a potential new job, definitely a different area of advertising, a new decade (30 in April), potentially a new apartment and even new city (Brooklyn). But on my journey, I have equipped myself with the same type of notebook that I used to plan out my change. The cards I chose reflect my love of Paris and magenta. And actions told me that our purchases strongly reflect who we are in deeper and nuanced ways.
END SCENE
SCENE FOUR
After carefully selecting my purchases, I head to the cash register. With a sinking feeling, I recognize the woman at the register. I vaguely remember her being my boss at some job I had about 10 years ago. For some reason, I hope she doesn't recognize me, but she does. She says my face looks so familiar. I completely get her wrong even though I rarely try to guess people's name. Her name is not Dorothy and she's not my boss from Clinique. Nope. She worked with me at B. Dalton, the now defunct bookstore, previously owned by Barnes and Noble. It was one of my first after school jobs that I insisted on getting my senior year of high school. It's where I first heard about Harry Potter way back in 1999 when they were considered just children's books. It's where I first worked in a place that didn't involve sweating in a camp t-shirt. And here she was, working the cash register. Like me, she has probably gone through many hardships and experiences over the last 12 years but honestly hadn't aged a bit. The recent New York Times article about the failings of the publishing industry flashed in my mind. I think about how strongly I'm contemplating finally purchasing a Kindle. We both genuinely smile and wish each other well. As I walk away, I wonder, is this a new chapter? Or am I re-reading a different version of the same story?
END SCENE
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
A Quick Lesson in Karma
Often times I get into debates with people about the validity of karma. My response is that logically, even if you don't believe in karma, you're better off following its principals because if it does exist, than you're shit out of luck. I do try to be the giver rather than the taker in situations that allow me to do so, i.e. with tipping, helping friends out, etc. And in many cases, I have very generous friends and especially parents who have helped me out when needed. So I may not directly be able to give back to the friend that has helped me in the same way, but I have helped another friend thus continuing some sort of imaginary karma thread or paying it forward.
Yesterday, I was sitting in a cafe I've enjoyed working in many times when I overheard a man, who I thought was the owner, discussing how he wanted to get more involved in social media. After sitting there listening to their conversation for 5 minutes, I couldn't stand it anymore and offered to help him set up his Twitter, explain FourSquare (especially since I was the mayor of his cafe), and utilize the services. I spent the next 2 hours setting up his accounts, creating clever Check In specials (check into Caffe Roma) and generally enjoying his company and those around him. I didn't expect anything in return and enjoyed using my knowledge on social media to help a great coffee shop do more business.
That evening, a friend made me a delicious dinner complete with Mexican pudding! Today, I made a few great connections via Twitter and overall.. seems like things are looking on the up & up as far as jobs go. And so I ask you, do you believe in karma?
Yesterday, I was sitting in a cafe I've enjoyed working in many times when I overheard a man, who I thought was the owner, discussing how he wanted to get more involved in social media. After sitting there listening to their conversation for 5 minutes, I couldn't stand it anymore and offered to help him set up his Twitter, explain FourSquare (especially since I was the mayor of his cafe), and utilize the services. I spent the next 2 hours setting up his accounts, creating clever Check In specials (check into Caffe Roma) and generally enjoying his company and those around him. I didn't expect anything in return and enjoyed using my knowledge on social media to help a great coffee shop do more business.
That evening, a friend made me a delicious dinner complete with Mexican pudding! Today, I made a few great connections via Twitter and overall.. seems like things are looking on the up & up as far as jobs go. And so I ask you, do you believe in karma?
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
NEW BLOG
Strongly considering consolidating all my blogging to Curiosity Matters. What do you think? P.S. Check out the site for my latest posts. Photography.. oooh.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Cats of All Sizes
I recently watched a TED talk by Beverly + Dereck Joubert about big cats in Africa. They spent 3 years studying a leopard they named Legadema, Setswana for "light from the sky." How beautiful is that? Perhaps my emotions are running high from all the changes I've been experiencing - mostly overwhelmed with happiness, but I teared up many times during their 20 minute talk. I'm not going to ruin the video for you but I will say it was heartbreaking to learn how these big cats are being decimated by poachers and hunters. According to the Joubert's, over the last 50 years: Lions have gone from 450,000 to only 20,000 today.
Tigers from 45,000 to only 3,000
Cheetahs from 50,000 to 12,000
and Leopards from 700,000 to only 50,000.
From global warming to killing animals needlessly, we have lost touch with nature. But this is something we should easily be able to prevent. How could we, as humans, knownigly be responsible for this type of behavior? In the video, they pointed out that killing one lion disrupts an entire ecosystem. The new lion that enters the pride, kills all the cubs and sometimes even the mothers protecting them in order to establish his power. It's interesting to learn how violent nature is, and in this case - as unnecessary as war itself. But humans are causing that added violence.
Before you lose hope completely, there's a beautiful and bright side to nature - specifically an incident of motherly instincts that we see through Legadema. But I'm not going to tell you what happens. You'll just have to watch for yourself and if you're interested in learning more, you can check out this post via Roar Africa, a company that offers guided tours of Africa.
Tigers from 45,000 to only 3,000
Cheetahs from 50,000 to 12,000
and Leopards from 700,000 to only 50,000.
From global warming to killing animals needlessly, we have lost touch with nature. But this is something we should easily be able to prevent. How could we, as humans, knownigly be responsible for this type of behavior? In the video, they pointed out that killing one lion disrupts an entire ecosystem. The new lion that enters the pride, kills all the cubs and sometimes even the mothers protecting them in order to establish his power. It's interesting to learn how violent nature is, and in this case - as unnecessary as war itself. But humans are causing that added violence.
Before you lose hope completely, there's a beautiful and bright side to nature - specifically an incident of motherly instincts that we see through Legadema. But I'm not going to tell you what happens. You'll just have to watch for yourself and if you're interested in learning more, you can check out this post via Roar Africa, a company that offers guided tours of Africa.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Back In San Francisco!!!
I arrived back in San Francisco yesterday morning after having woken up at 4am for my 7:30am flight. Thank you Papa Dukes for driving me, and no, I have no idea why me or my sister call you that. But before I left, Mischief walked in front of me 3 times on Friday. I suspect it was to trip me so I couldn't leave. But the more likely explanation is that Mischief doesn't realize the pecking order of cats to humans; i.e. that he has to move out of the way. Yes, I nearly fell down the stairs. My father plopped Thomas onto my bed before I went to sleep and instructed him to "stay with his mother." And he did, until I woke up at 4am. All the cats looked genuinely confused at being woken up that early. They looked to us for guidance. Their eyes said "ma, should I eat now or go back to sleep? I don't get this. It's still dark."
Okay, enough about cats. We arrived at the airport with ample time. I switched on my light weight jacket and nearly started shivering during my walk from the car to the airport. 15 degrees will do that to you. If there was ever a girl who understood self-branding, it's me. I don't know many people who accidentally have 4 items of a deep magenta on - my pants, scarf, handbag and carry-on suitcase.
I sat in the Virgin America waiting room trying not to fall asleep and spotted a group of 4 young boys. They looked Eastern European with crew cuts, all probably within 4 years of each other, gathered around a pretty red headed girl with her MacBook Pro open. It was like a scene out of period piece, children gathered their a mother reading a bedtime story. But instead, it was at JFK, in the waiting area of a Virgin America flight, the book was a MacBook and the woman wasn't their mother. Surreal.
The flight was fairly uneventful. I arrived in San Francisco to absolutely beautiful weather. After settling in and showering, I walked around North Beach, almost able to pretend I was in Italy. With the unseasonably warm weather, everyone was out and about. Despite having access to a million forms of entertainment, there's no denying that simply walking outside, laying out in the sun, talking to friends, eating and drinking coffee is usually the most enjoyable. And more than that, it's timeless. I could have taken that walk (minus listening to music from my iPhone), hundreds of years ago. Although it's most likely I wouldn't have seen a cat on a leash. Yes, only in San Francisco.
After going into stores I never had time to explore while in school, I had dinner by myself at a cafe where I read and sat outside. Note to self - arrange dinners before I get to my destination! I started a conversation with two older men sitting next to me. One was a taxi driver who was full of interesting stories. He seemed genuinely happy with his job and said it was way less stressful than being a cab driver in New York. Like for instance, if he wanted a break, he could go to Ocean Beach and just sit and watch the ocean. I learned that he went on less drug runs now for people. That if he doesn't trust someone, he'll drive around until they get the hint and leave. He told me about a successful woman who lived a bi-coastal lifestyle. He said that she seemed like a go-getter with endless amounts of energy. Is that the key to success? Anyway, it feels good to be back. I'd have these experiences in New York but think San Franciscians are more friendly and more likely to talk to strangers. It's obvious to me that I'll be happy where ever I end up and am enjoying the journey.
Okay, enough about cats. We arrived at the airport with ample time. I switched on my light weight jacket and nearly started shivering during my walk from the car to the airport. 15 degrees will do that to you. If there was ever a girl who understood self-branding, it's me. I don't know many people who accidentally have 4 items of a deep magenta on - my pants, scarf, handbag and carry-on suitcase.
The flight was fairly uneventful. I arrived in San Francisco to absolutely beautiful weather. After settling in and showering, I walked around North Beach, almost able to pretend I was in Italy. With the unseasonably warm weather, everyone was out and about. Despite having access to a million forms of entertainment, there's no denying that simply walking outside, laying out in the sun, talking to friends, eating and drinking coffee is usually the most enjoyable. And more than that, it's timeless. I could have taken that walk (minus listening to music from my iPhone), hundreds of years ago. Although it's most likely I wouldn't have seen a cat on a leash. Yes, only in San Francisco.
After going into stores I never had time to explore while in school, I had dinner by myself at a cafe where I read and sat outside. Note to self - arrange dinners before I get to my destination! I started a conversation with two older men sitting next to me. One was a taxi driver who was full of interesting stories. He seemed genuinely happy with his job and said it was way less stressful than being a cab driver in New York. Like for instance, if he wanted a break, he could go to Ocean Beach and just sit and watch the ocean. I learned that he went on less drug runs now for people. That if he doesn't trust someone, he'll drive around until they get the hint and leave. He told me about a successful woman who lived a bi-coastal lifestyle. He said that she seemed like a go-getter with endless amounts of energy. Is that the key to success? Anyway, it feels good to be back. I'd have these experiences in New York but think San Franciscians are more friendly and more likely to talk to strangers. It's obvious to me that I'll be happy where ever I end up and am enjoying the journey.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Mischief The Cat
I'll be the first to admit that Mischief the cat is a bit strange.
Mischief Taking a Walk: Extended Version from Molly A on Vimeo.
Mischief Taking a Walk: Extended Version from Molly A on Vimeo.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
A New York Minute
I've been living on the Upper West Side since Friday night, cat-sitting for a friend. Kind of the perfect situation and I really lucked out. So far, I've lived in the East Village, Upper East Side and Chelsea. Hmm.. What's next? I'm not going to get into how confused I am. I'm pretty sure they put some sort of addictive substances in the New York water because there's no logical explanation as to why this city has such a strong pull on me when I was so gong-ho about San Francisco - At a time when the garbage hasn't been collected, it's 30 degrees and the curbs are full of murky, cold puddles. Oh yeah, I know.. it's the people. While I've met many cool people in San Francisco and I'm sure I have yet to meet many more, the fact remains that I have so many friends here and have built relationships in every area of my life during the five years that I've been here. Good thing I just have to leave things up to the job market, at this point.
So I was taking the 2 train which I rarely ever take - whole different crew from the 4/5/6 and noticed an interesting scene. It was about five, very charged, minutes on the subway ride that said so much about New York and what makes it so interesting. A (presumably) Orthodox woman was with her young child who was cranky and misbehaving in his stroller. He was about 3 years old and wouldn't sit still and kept accidentally kicking me. A black man with tattoos all over his body including tear marks near his eyes, started speaking to the pretty, young, blond woman, telling her to control her child. He was swearing at her and mumbling about white women not being able to control their children and how the children needed to be smacked around. Her response was that her son was tired and cranky and she sounded kind and exhausted, not wanting to get into an argument. I stood in the middle of them hoping it wouldn't escalate but wondering what I'd do or say if it did. On the way out, I looked back to see the mother with her son talking and laughing with another black woman who also had a child, presumably bonding and making friends over the situation.
New York is obviously incredibly diverse as a whole but each neighborhood is fairly segregated. I'm pretty sure my home town in Northern, NJ was more racially diverse than the Upper East Side but we came from similar places economically which at least united us in some way. But on the subway, there are people coming on from Brooklyn, to Manhattan, to Harlem, to the Bronx, & Queens. It unites us all. It's a place where stereotypes and frustrations all come out, where rich businessmen are tightly squeezed next to Bronx gang members, who are tightly squeezed next to Jewish mothers, who are tightly squeezed next to millions of other people that don't fit or defy stereotypes. So as addicting as the sound effects are to Angry Birds, turn down your phone and listen to what's around you. You may learn something.
So I was taking the 2 train which I rarely ever take - whole different crew from the 4/5/6 and noticed an interesting scene. It was about five, very charged, minutes on the subway ride that said so much about New York and what makes it so interesting. A (presumably) Orthodox woman was with her young child who was cranky and misbehaving in his stroller. He was about 3 years old and wouldn't sit still and kept accidentally kicking me. A black man with tattoos all over his body including tear marks near his eyes, started speaking to the pretty, young, blond woman, telling her to control her child. He was swearing at her and mumbling about white women not being able to control their children and how the children needed to be smacked around. Her response was that her son was tired and cranky and she sounded kind and exhausted, not wanting to get into an argument. I stood in the middle of them hoping it wouldn't escalate but wondering what I'd do or say if it did. On the way out, I looked back to see the mother with her son talking and laughing with another black woman who also had a child, presumably bonding and making friends over the situation.
New York is obviously incredibly diverse as a whole but each neighborhood is fairly segregated. I'm pretty sure my home town in Northern, NJ was more racially diverse than the Upper East Side but we came from similar places economically which at least united us in some way. But on the subway, there are people coming on from Brooklyn, to Manhattan, to Harlem, to the Bronx, & Queens. It unites us all. It's a place where stereotypes and frustrations all come out, where rich businessmen are tightly squeezed next to Bronx gang members, who are tightly squeezed next to Jewish mothers, who are tightly squeezed next to millions of other people that don't fit or defy stereotypes. So as addicting as the sound effects are to Angry Birds, turn down your phone and listen to what's around you. You may learn something.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Where Am I?
So I've been staying at my parent's house for the last week after spending nearly three months in San Francisco. It's been quite the whirlwind. I guess I'm fairly good at dealing with change. - I just keep myself busy and avoid thinking about it. So I've gone to being at school for three months in San Francisco where I was generally so busy that I rarely had lunch before 3pm, to staying at my parent's house where the only exercise I get is walking from the upstairs to the downstairs and back again. And thanks to the blizzard of 2010, I was forced to stay inside. Technically, I'm now unemployed, instead of being student, and my future is a big blank slate. Well, okay, it's not that dramatic. I at least know what I want to do.. just have no idea where I'm going to end up.
I'm looking for account strategy jobs in both NYC and San Francisco. Right now, most of my possessions are at my parent's house in NJ. And then I have a plane ticket back to SF on January 15th where I have an apartment and a few of my clothes. But other than that, there's a big question mark. How much do I bring back to San Francisco? What do I actually need? Where will I work? What's better - having an apartment in San Francisco but few friends or job contacts? Or having no apartment in NYC, most of my friends and a slew of job contacts?
Right now, I feel like I want to be independent and move across country. I wouldn't mind starting fresh. But the longer I'm in the NYC/NJ area, the more I reach into my past instead of moving forward. Is this detrimental? Healthy? Then again, is my past really that bad? When I left NYC in the early fall, I had so many people I cared for and genuinely liked that it was hard to schedule time with everyone. I felt like I was always "catching up" with people instead of hanging out. And it took me five years to get to that point where all of the people I spent time with were those who I genuinely respected and were a joy to be around. When I got to San Fransisco, I automatically had a crew of 30+ people to hang out with on any given day when I actually had time to hang out. What's going to happen now that that crew is back in their homes, around the world?
Today, I had my things moved out of storage and into my parent's house. After living at my parent's house for a week, I finally have a desk to work on (my novel hopefully), I finally have adequate space to house my clothing and book shelves for my books. While I was in San Francisco, I felt weightless, freed by my three suitcases worth of clothing and freed by my mobility. But now, as I look around my room, I sit at the 67 pound desk that I once hauled up my 3rd story walk up on St. Mark's and put together. I look at the 6ft tall bookshelf that I dragged ten blocks and up five flights of stairs. And the IKEA bureau that I was so excited to also carry up five flights of stairs after not having a bureau for four years. The truth is, it's all cheap furniture. None of it matches. But it's mine. I look through my books and remember the inspiration they gave me and I think about how as a collection, they show who I am or who I want to be. But does all this matter? They're only material items.
Having the bigger room, my sister is now the proud owner of my former bed. It sits in her room with a few of my bookshelves and with my bedding. It's kind of weird. I feel possessive of it, like I want it to be mine after not having slept on it for four months. It feels like home. But who cares. It's only a bed. So yeah, here I am, caught between my past and on the verge of stepping into a new future with a clean slate. How appropriate as we approach the end of a decade and I approach the end of my twenties...
I'm looking for account strategy jobs in both NYC and San Francisco. Right now, most of my possessions are at my parent's house in NJ. And then I have a plane ticket back to SF on January 15th where I have an apartment and a few of my clothes. But other than that, there's a big question mark. How much do I bring back to San Francisco? What do I actually need? Where will I work? What's better - having an apartment in San Francisco but few friends or job contacts? Or having no apartment in NYC, most of my friends and a slew of job contacts?
Right now, I feel like I want to be independent and move across country. I wouldn't mind starting fresh. But the longer I'm in the NYC/NJ area, the more I reach into my past instead of moving forward. Is this detrimental? Healthy? Then again, is my past really that bad? When I left NYC in the early fall, I had so many people I cared for and genuinely liked that it was hard to schedule time with everyone. I felt like I was always "catching up" with people instead of hanging out. And it took me five years to get to that point where all of the people I spent time with were those who I genuinely respected and were a joy to be around. When I got to San Fransisco, I automatically had a crew of 30+ people to hang out with on any given day when I actually had time to hang out. What's going to happen now that that crew is back in their homes, around the world?
Today, I had my things moved out of storage and into my parent's house. After living at my parent's house for a week, I finally have a desk to work on (my novel hopefully), I finally have adequate space to house my clothing and book shelves for my books. While I was in San Francisco, I felt weightless, freed by my three suitcases worth of clothing and freed by my mobility. But now, as I look around my room, I sit at the 67 pound desk that I once hauled up my 3rd story walk up on St. Mark's and put together. I look at the 6ft tall bookshelf that I dragged ten blocks and up five flights of stairs. And the IKEA bureau that I was so excited to also carry up five flights of stairs after not having a bureau for four years. The truth is, it's all cheap furniture. None of it matches. But it's mine. I look through my books and remember the inspiration they gave me and I think about how as a collection, they show who I am or who I want to be. But does all this matter? They're only material items.
Having the bigger room, my sister is now the proud owner of my former bed. It sits in her room with a few of my bookshelves and with my bedding. It's kind of weird. I feel possessive of it, like I want it to be mine after not having slept on it for four months. It feels like home. But who cares. It's only a bed. So yeah, here I am, caught between my past and on the verge of stepping into a new future with a clean slate. How appropriate as we approach the end of a decade and I approach the end of my twenties...
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
My Brief Rant Against Baby Boomers
Or maybe just my parents...
I just had to give my parents a lecture on why they should unplug their electronics when not in use. We live in a liberal town. My parents never questioned global warming. They recycle. BUT - I almost think that they are TRYING to waste electricity. Or maybe they just don't know. Freaking baby boomers. They've had all the fun. They had the Beatles... when all four were alive. They had Free Love with No AIDS. Drugs were okay, well at least until they figured out the long-term effects. And danced to DISCO! They had the glutenous 80's. They had the first tech boom. And I ask them to do one freaking simple thing. Unplug your computer before you go to sleep! Unplug the freakin air conditioner that's not in use 9 months of the year. Is it really necessary for me to spell out exactly what vampire power means? Do I have to argue with you on this? Oh yeah.. save electricity. Same the environment, cause you know... my children are going to be on this earth, and my children's children and I'm sure they'd like all the same benefits and resources that you've had.. except maybe.. even better.
okay. I'm done.
P.S. I entirely admit that this is a perfect shit storm caused by finishing an awesome program in an amazing, environmentally friendly city - to officially entering the world of the unemployed while temporarily living at home with my parents in NJ where it's at least 30 degrees colder than San Francisco. Phew.. breathing.. deeply.
I just had to give my parents a lecture on why they should unplug their electronics when not in use. We live in a liberal town. My parents never questioned global warming. They recycle. BUT - I almost think that they are TRYING to waste electricity. Or maybe they just don't know. Freaking baby boomers. They've had all the fun. They had the Beatles... when all four were alive. They had Free Love with No AIDS. Drugs were okay, well at least until they figured out the long-term effects. And danced to DISCO! They had the glutenous 80's. They had the first tech boom. And I ask them to do one freaking simple thing. Unplug your computer before you go to sleep! Unplug the freakin air conditioner that's not in use 9 months of the year. Is it really necessary for me to spell out exactly what vampire power means? Do I have to argue with you on this? Oh yeah.. save electricity. Same the environment, cause you know... my children are going to be on this earth, and my children's children and I'm sure they'd like all the same benefits and resources that you've had.. except maybe.. even better.
okay. I'm done.
P.S. I entirely admit that this is a perfect shit storm caused by finishing an awesome program in an amazing, environmentally friendly city - to officially entering the world of the unemployed while temporarily living at home with my parents in NJ where it's at least 30 degrees colder than San Francisco. Phew.. breathing.. deeply.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
SWEAT.
I'm nearly done with Miami Ad School Boot Camp San Francisco. It's been one of the best, most challenging experiences of my life. I'm in complete denial that I will no longer have a second home in San Francisco equipped with a ping pong table, comfortable couches, wifi and most importantly, a diverse family from all over the world that is intelligent, creative and inspiring. I was prepared to be challenged. Work hard. And learn from other talented students.
You're going to sweat when you're running to a potentially mind blowing class on a Sunday morning, trying to get there by 10am while lugging your laptop and multiple layers to deal with the changing San Francisco weather.
You're going to sweat when you have to make a 10 minute presentation to your 40 classmates and tough-as-nails teacher on a project you've had only a week to immerse yourself in.
You're going to sweat as you frantically finish your presentation before the teacher calls on your team to present.
You're going to sweat when you have no time to eat and frequently find yourself running to Safeway for a cheap sandwich.
And you're going to sweat as you hold hot coffee in your hand, praying that it will give you another hour of energetic clarity.
You're going to sweat as you slam a ping pong ball back and forth with force like a ninja, playing a multitude of experts in an effort to clear your head.
And after all that hard work, you're going to sweat it out with your classmates from all over the world on the dance floor and realize, it was all worth it.
But what I wasn't prepared for is that at Miami Ad School, you're going to sweat.
You're going to sweat when you're running to a potentially mind blowing class on a Sunday morning, trying to get there by 10am while lugging your laptop and multiple layers to deal with the changing San Francisco weather.
You're going to sweat when you have to make a 10 minute presentation to your 40 classmates and tough-as-nails teacher on a project you've had only a week to immerse yourself in.
You're going to sweat as you frantically finish your presentation before the teacher calls on your team to present.
You're going to sweat when you have no time to eat and frequently find yourself running to Safeway for a cheap sandwich.
And you're going to sweat as you hold hot coffee in your hand, praying that it will give you another hour of energetic clarity.
You're going to sweat as you slam a ping pong ball back and forth with force like a ninja, playing a multitude of experts in an effort to clear your head.
And after all that hard work, you're going to sweat it out with your classmates from all over the world on the dance floor and realize, it was all worth it.
Sunday, November 28, 2010
We Interrupt This Program
I interrupt my resume-revising, manifesto-writing, presentation-preparation, and contemplation of why there are only 24 hours in the day to bring you this video. That's PJS!
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