Oh, the places you'll go

Western Bagel. My cup o' joe and chocolate chip bagel, and breakfast is done for less than three bucks. I glance over at the five elderly coffee buddies sitting and chatting, with a leisurely air about them. That's good, these gentlemen have friends and hobbies - and can get out of the house. Although it is a bit early for a friends' coffee gathering.

The alley behind my garage. This is when a little birdie told me that my ancient apartment building has had problems - rat problems, which prompted the trimming of the trees on our street, since apparently rats were jumping off of trees and onto our building. I'm sorry, what were we talking about? Just reeling from that disturbing mental image. Oh, right. There has been no mention to them of replacing the piping system in our building, or the hot water pressure problem. Apparently they have had problems with getting various repairs completed by the owners and management also.

Building number one, let's call it the Marshall building. I report for my temp gig twenty minutes early at the parking garage. They tell me I should go to the next garage down, let's call this one, Ray of Sunshine.

Ray of Sunshine's garage. I pull up to the gate and the attendant tells me I need to enter through the other side of the garage. She makes a call to the other gate's attendant and he informs her that I should be on Level P2. She lets me in and I finally find a parking spot on P2. I walk over to the elevators and the garage attendant sees me and steps out to find out where I'm going. He indicates that I shouldn't be here but over at the Apex building. I make a call to the agency and fill them in. I take a seat on the planters facing the elevators and wait.

Still sitting on the planters. They've checked all their records and everything has listed the initial Marshall building location. I then get back in my car and leave the parking garage (after a flustered search for the exit).

Back at the Marshall parking garage - there the attendant tells me that all the spaces are reserved, so I'm probably supposed to park somewhere else. I then get another call indicating that I should be in the Apex building.

Olive parking garage. I get off the elevators and make my way through the courtyard to the building.

Third floor. After walking down the hallway and circulating the whole floor, I find that none of the suites on the third floor indicate where the company is located. The nice enough employee in one of the suites there finds out that I should be in the other building across the courtyard, the Apex Dos building. I check with the security guard outside that I am, in fact, going in the right direction.

Apex Dos. I finally make it to the building for today's destination. In the lobby, I check in with the security guard and she issues me a pass.

The third floor suite, which the company has full reign over, has finally found its way to me and I check in with the receptionist and she shows me to my desk for the day. Oh, temping.

Three parking garages. Three parking attendants. Two security guards. And it's not even 10:00am. At least I had breakfast.


Some names may have been changed to protect the identity of...well, I guess my whereabouts. But who cares? I mean, nobody in Hollywood wants me dead yet.

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.