Reflections, Paulo Coelho, and GQ

Again - ding dong, the strike is dead. Everyone's slowly emerging from their 'cautious optimism,' that things are gradually picking up.

So just some personal thoughts, since they're on the brain. The agony of career-debating and related quarterlife questions and those all-important 'transitional' periods in life continues.

After spending much of the past couple of weeks, I mean months (MONTHS!), interviewing, temping, actually cooking at home, contemplating other jobs (and less lofty aspirations), and becoming buddy-buddy with sites Defamer and 100 Days in Bed, I've had some time on my hands. To blog. To reflect. To reevaluate everything I've ever known in life. Fun, I know.

Consider other industries, possibilities, American coastal cities. I would have to say my greatest success is having survived the last several months of my own life. (Take that, cookie-cutter job interviewers!) A roller coaster of emotion, these twentysomething years. Considering all those years I've spent studying, writing, showing up prepared.

So I'm widening my horizons. My passion is film and television, my creative juice is good writing. The tools that I use and search for are wit, thoughtfulness, and brutal honesty. But it is possible that life will lead me to other places - my life in the grand scheme of things, is just one life. Wow - am I just another hack? Okay, I'll just go wherever God takes me. The only problem with having a Judy Blume moment when it's not as a kid, is that it's not as easily dismissed. Oh, character building experiences of your twenties. If only I could somehow include the aforementioned on my resume...

"We who fight for our dream suffer far more when it doesn't work out, because we cannot fall back on the old excuse: 'Oh, well, I didn't really want it anyway.' We do want it and know that we have staked everything on it and that the path of the personal calling is not easier than any other path, except that our whole heart is in this journey." Oh, Paulo Coelho. Do you have any idea what you've done?

COTW

This week, it's whatever Cecil Donahue was having when writing about job interviews in GQ's February 2008 issue.

Signs

There are certain events in life that stand out to me - things that remind me of the fact that I have very little power in this world, but someone up there hasn't forgotten about me. Sure, faith is personal, and I don't know if most people's beliefs in atheism, the supernatural, or modern world religions come into play, but for me, nothing happens in complete futility.

The specifics

Hot water pressure: the hot water pressure problem has been plaguing my roommate and I ever since we moved into our apartment. Nonexistent hot water pressure - resulting in more of a trickle-down effect of water in the shower, which sometimes isn't even that hot. Also, the water takes a couple minutes to warm up - shower, sink, and kitchen.

I killed a spider in my room. It was on my bed.

Our evil neighbors blocked my car in this morning and left a scratch on my bumper.

Our evil neighbors.

There is no heat in our bedrooms.

Any parking ticket issued in the greater Los Angeles area.

Paying for parking anywhere.
Alright, I'm noticing that this is becoming more of a list of cons about L.A., so let me return the focus to more relevant events.

The ongoing strike. This goes hand-in-hand with...

The neverending job search in this industry.

Temping gigs are also super-quiet these days.

There's no love in LA. Anyone else notice the heavy marketing efforts of Singles Awareness Day?

What's a struggling assistant, I mean temp, to think, say, do? It's been a tumultuous ride these past several months. I have gained a level of understanding with other friends that have experienced extended searches for jobs (six months to a year or longer). All of these educated, intelligent, well-spoken adults with plenty of ambition and maturity, yet they're in the job market for months. I think it's a miracle that anyone survives the months of self-deprecation, disappointment, and debt.
So I'm wondering if it's not the time for me. All these things add up and my heightened awareness of these signs are what trouble me of late. There's only so much a struggling assistant can take. Either my west coast experience is ending and I should take heed of another calling, or I should stick, and keep on keepin' on.
Ah, decisions. Don't you love those character-building years of your twenties?

Besides, those $3.50 designer cupcakes won't pay for themselves. (Sidenote: I wonder what the typical assistant salary affords in Los Angeles and how this lifestyle survives, on average. More on this later.)

COTW

Malibu con piña. Ok, anything with Malibu.

That guy at my neighborhood gym who looks kind of like Dane Cook. Except with an earring and tattooed.

People who treat you for stuff without you mentioning the fact that you're unemployed.

On the bright side

Reruns of Seinfeld.

Catching up on season three's eps of Veronica Mars. I'm still hurt, CW.

Finally got around to reading a few books I've been putting off.

Thank God for television, Blockbuster Online, and my roommate's kind offer to use her laptop.

Trader Joe's. Cheese plates and all.

More nights at the salsa club. Hopefully there will be more marketable twentysomething gentlemen there. Whom also love Jason Mraz, dark chocolate, and skiing. To start.

Pieces of a Day

Happy Friday, world. Life always seems better on a Friday.

The Work Thing
Stop effing popping popcorn! The buttery smell permeates the entire open-air confines of the office, traveling to the heart of every single cubicle, which is part of a layout of the largest cube that is the entire office on the first floor. Bleh. Buttery butteryness.

The shipping/delivery guy is here. He wears a green t-shirt with a huge graphic screenprint on the back that says, “Who’s Your Crawdaddy?”

Creepy guys. How many of you are there? Or the ones with the beady eyes? You’re a tool, you’re a tool. You’re a big, fat tool.

Stop wearing cologne at work! If you shower, you’re good – do the universe a favor and just pop the Altoids.

“Do not ship liquids, blood or diagnostics in this packaging.” WHO IS SHIPPING LIQUIDS, BLOOD, OR DIAGNOSTICS through FedEx packaging? Honestly.

Heroes this week
How creepy is Zachary Quinto as Sylar?
I can’t stop staring at Milo Ventimiglia’s lip and the weird angle at which it hangs.
And FINALLY the characters on Heroes share scenes together again. Can’t wait to see what happens with Hiro and Peter Petrelli. Nice cliffhanger, peacock. Hopefully there won’t be too much layover time between the writer’s strike-induced gap between eps. Don’t want last year’s fizzling steam to déjà vu.

On personal gastronomics:
Lately a hankering for pie. And today one for cheese popcorn. Yes, the kind that gets all over your fingers. The Smartfood brand is also quite satisfying. Maybe I should strike up a deal with Herr’s, Tastykake, and Smartfood. You know, when I’m loaded. Starving writers like food.

COTW: Extraordinarily attractive people work ordinary jobs.
It’s the daily grind – work, errands, food, sleep. I pick up my cup ‘o joe at the cafe near my office (at least for the time being). No, our eyes do not meet. But he does take my order for a smoky-flavored mocha. I do a double take. He’s broad-shouldered with clear skin and dark hair. The face is easy on the eyes. What are you doing working here? Shouldn’t you be modeling or something? He could be – and this barista gig is his day job. Or maybe he’s decided he doesn’t want to model and isn’t into the industry. But seriously – it’s amazing to see people at menial jobs that seem like they would clearly excel in other areas. Wow.