Poor Man's Cooking

Chicken Parmesan sandwich:
1 microwavable chicken patty
red sauce
parmesan cheese
buns

instructions: microwave chicken patty. put chicken patty on bun. pour red sauce on chicken. sprinkle parmesan cheese on top. put top of bun on sandwich. eat.

more to come. i need to go make this and eat it.

Yeah, about what Charlotte said

The problem is she wiggles her butt when I scratch her head, which makes her not unlike my beloved Kitty, who, along with Isabel, I miss very much.  But then again, not that much since apparently I have Charlotte to sit next to me while I watch mind-numbing television.

I'm halfway finished with the intro to performance studies "boot camp," which is actually not the boot camp I was expecting.  Oh, and

Dear Professors from W&M,

Thank you.  A thousand times, thank you.

Luv, Beaton.

Although I did have to read J.L. Austin's How to Do Things with Words.  All of it.  But I'm getting at least 6 hours of sleep at night which is a huge victory.  The 48 (!!!) people in my program are all really cool and I love the faculty and the general vibe of the department.  There's even a small disco ball in the studio classroom.  Named Leroy.

I snagged an editorial assistant job with The Drama Review, which is the journal put out by the department through MIT press.  So that's pretty sweet, since this whole academic publishing thing is kinda why I'm here in the first place.

But now I must continue rubbing Charlotte's head and convince her she doesn't have meningitis.

Epic Fail

I turned down Z's offer today. And bawled at work.

They weren't offering enough money and they wouldn't budge on my start date. So they wanted me to a) take a pay cut b)give up a great second source of income c) burn a bridge at a really important company

no thanks.

Two complicated breakups in 2 weeks. I ordered-in comfort food and ate icecream. Then I made Alex rub my head.

sounds like a breakup alright.

guess it's time to schedule my wisdom teeth surgery sans dental insurance.

ny ny ny ny

ok wait
5 of us now live in new york
can we hang out please?
call me?

Dan & MMXBAL's Segscellent Adventure

Last week, Metromix paid for me to take a Segway tour of Baltimore. The results? A bunch of incriminating photographs, and a sprawling 2100-word rumination that they managed to chop down to 1800:

A Segscellent adventure

This article was also posted on the front page of baltimoresun.com today. Can I ever show my face in Charm City again?

The C------- Publishing Course begins Sunday, so I'm leaving for New York City this weekend. It's tempting to reflect on this past month in Baltimore (and that stray weekend I spent in Williamsburg), but I think I'll save my energy for a real rip-roaring dissection of C------- and its environs.

Until then, keep segging, and always wear a helmet.

---
UPDATE: After spending a few hours on the front page of baltimoresun.com, the Segway article was posted on Fark.com, which earned Metromix a solid 7000 pageviews and a whopping 129 comments. The best are reproduced below:

"I've seen plenty of idiots on Segways down by the harbor lately, but none so conspicuous." --IrateShadow

"Kid, you're really not all the [sic] funny, but nice try..."
--KyngNothing

"I am not a violent person, but that story just made me want to punch that guy in the face."
--TheYeti

"Baltimore? --- Can that thing outrun a bullet."
--gulag

"helmets are for fags."
--mandingueiro

"someone should punch this guy in the face just for looking stupid"
--50 Cent Jesus

"Charm City, baby. Ball mer rocks! That is the doofiest looking Segway rider I've ever seen! However, the 'Segs in the city' name is cool."
--StewPie

BUT THE TAKER OF THE PROVERBIAL CAKE:

"Anybody with a name like 'Piepenbring' HAS to be a wanker."
--phartman

---
BOOKS
Joseph O'Neill, Netherland
Paul Auster, The New York Trilogy

MUSIC
Neon Neon, Stainless Style
No Age, Nouns
Hella, The Devil Isn't Red
Aaron LaCrate & DJ Low Budget, Bmore Gutter Music (amazing cover art features a Drunk Oriole)

Attention Whore

So I realize I've been a bit prolific on this blog but with good reason.

I got the job at Z****.com yesteday with one little caveat. I'm not allowed to work there and freelance at a competing travel site. So I need to firm up my end date over at T******* & L****** and then that will be my start date at Z****.com

So yay! I won't have to work for my father any more, or at least I'll know when I'm leaving. Let the countdown begin.

In other, more personal, and perhaps inappropriate news: Champe and I broke up. But it was the most difficult and amiable breakup ever. I'm not entirely sure why it happened or if it will last. And certainly the details have no business here but, per the subject of this post, I figured I would share.

The intriguing move forward

Moving-in, the big step forward. I'm not sure how all of you coped (/are coping/have coped), but the process of finding an apartment or house is extremely difficult. I'd imagine it's the same situation in any urban area like D.C. or N.Y.C. There's such insurmountable competition for homes; they come on the market (let's say at 12 p.m.), they leave the market (oh, let's estimate 1 p.m., same day). It's such an incredible hassle, but finally over as of this past week.

My housemates (Ryan and Cassie Powers, no relation) and I are signing the lease on Thursday at high noon and likely moving in over the next week and so. The numb quality of a mutual joblessness and homelessness subsides in favor of new feeling somewhat akin to that "First Day of School" vibe. The next week of shopping for the house and preparing the house and life for work and independent living reminds me of shopping for the pencils and pens, the notebooks and school year clothing. The imminence of work and life is no longer unnerving to any small degree: I am, in fact, eager.

I'll try to post some pictures of the house and independent life here when I can.

As far as reading, I feel like I'm an odd one out. I just finished Everything is Illuminated, which puts me way behind the curve, right? I'm starting The Fountainhead to see what Ayn Rand's all about and I've been trudging through some riveting literature on early Anglo-Saxon and Norman workings: The Making of the Middle Ages by R.W. Southern and The Anglo-Saxon Age: c. 400-1042 by D.J.V. Fisher. Sometimes I manage to read a bit from an enjoyable catalogue of European penchant for everything English, a book Andrew Miller gave me entitled Anglomania: A European Love Affair, Ian Buruma.

I know many people dislike Christopher Hitchens, but for all of his curses and alcoholism, I find him to be one of the greatest writers and orators on the question of reason vs. faith. In fact, perhaps his being only an editor to a collection of essays makes The Portable Atheist a more agreeable book to a wider audience. The stories within are fascinating and eye-opening to the great number of modern authors who have contributed to independent thought on morality and the non-existence of supernatural beings.

So Many Things

Alright, so I'll keep this as veiled as possible since *drumroll* I'm back in the job-search saddle again. Well, not so much search as (destroy? no) interviews. I had a great interview a Z****.com and have a follow up on wednesday. This week at work has made me so excited at this new prospect but I can't let myself get too confident. So that's that, wish me luck.

Also, Champe wants to (and is actually following through...jigga wha?) to move here. To NYC. For our (tenuous?) relationship. I want to be really excited about it but instead I'm just anxious. It raises so many questions about what we're doing. I makes everything a big deal and I don't want to have to be responsible for a giant mistake on his part. Also, I don't want to feel trapped in the relationship just because I made him move here, what if we break up 2 months later? What if I stay with him because I don't want that burden? Why am I not happy that he's making this effort (finally).

Tonight is the housewarming of team face. Followed by my friend's going-away party with musical guest Peter, Bjorn and John (freals). Updates (and pictures?) to follow.

(parenthetically yours)

2 Things

This. 

and this:

keith gessen is an asshole

in case anyone was wondering,
i'm reading "all the sad young literary men" and it is a completely intolerable, self-righteous piece of smut. it's the only book i've picked up in a very long time that is so repulsive to me that i don't think i can finish it.
i would really enjoy punching keith gessen in the throat.

E-----s gives a report

Hello all. Well, it turns out today was the day. I'm the new editor for the Falls Church News-Press starting in July. I get to work with layout, interns and a really great staff of progressive Virginians. The newspaper is fairly fresh in the area, printing since 1991, and it's already been named one of the D.C. area's best liberal newspapers. What a great fit. More to come as I discover what the job entails and whether I can help the newspaper out.

As far as housing, my housemates (Ryan P----s, Meg G---t, and Cassie P----s; all fine W&M alum stock) are looking to settle in northern Virginia, somewhere around the Falls Church/Arlington area. How convenient for me come July when I begin work.

Senator Obama's rally at the Nissan Pavilion was tremendously exciting, too, even if we were in the nosebleed section. I went to the rally with our fellow blog contributor, Mr. Dan P---------g, my sister and several others. This man, Mr. Obama, is a phenomenal public speaker and, well, a true phenomenon in this crucial election year. Of course we can be cynical about politics and question how much substantive "change" will come out of a new president in the White House, but compared to the eight years of Mr. Bush, Mr. Obama promises so much more. What's more, his promise seems genuine and attainable; it's easy to get somewhere when we've practically hit rock-bottom politically.

For one, I am very excited about this new era we're embarking upon as young graduates, young professionals and the latest generation to wedge our way into the job market. The thrill of employment and "professionalism" is great, despite the sublime feeling of the whole experience, the unknowing future we face in the decade ahead. At the very least, we should have a young president and a decent change from the political climate we've known since high school in 2001.

Definitely more to come from this alumnus.

Hope, Hope, Hope

Dan and I are off to an Obama rally in northern Virginia. If there's anything of note, we'll post it here.

As far as on the job front, I'm waiting for this week to conclude before I post anything related.

Here's to change in 2008! (I will confess that I am an eternal idealist & optimist.)

mmm

i just woke up from a dream in which i told my former minnesota boss that she was an unnecessarily nasty and treacherous bitch. though this didn't really happen, i still feel satisfied.

i'm back in new york and now i have an account with monster.com! i'm jumping on the unemployed and financially fucked bandwagon, and i'm psyched.

Dalby-living

I'd like to spend a few minutes relating to all of you my current life with my gregarious, fun-loving, sometimes "touchy feely" roommate, Sean Wesley Dalby. I'll start by waking up. Every morning my alarm goes off at 7:30am. As I crawl across the room to turn it off, I can tell from the rustle of sheets at the other end of the attic that Sean is now also awake. Every morning I look forward to the sleepy-eyed nod and the "Ey man" I receive from Mr. Dalby as I walk down the ridiculously creeky steps to the first floor. It's better than coffee or banana-nut crunch cereal.

Sean is much more of a hippie then I imagined, at least when it comes to food. I don't mean this as an insult. Whereas I hoard my food like it's gasoline, often hiding my box of Cheez-its from my housemates, Sean openly offers me any and all of his food. This may stem from the fact that I'm buying the food with my own dwindling funds and Sean has a summer food stipend from w&m, but I think it speaks more to his character. For instance, we both woke up hungover last weekend and as I was walking down the formerly-mentioned creeking stairs, he offered me half of a banana he had drunkenly placed next to his bed the night before. Long story short - there's no one with whom I'd rather be living during my last two months in the 'burg. Echoing Dan's sentiments, I hope that perhaps living with Dalby will help me to lighten up a bit about financial worries as I enter into the uncertainty of the job market. It seems too easy to become Mr. Scrooge. More Dalby tales to come. More post-college angst to express.

Summer Jams:
Wolf Parade - "Call it a Ritual"
Galaxie 500 - "Blue Thunder"
Tom Waits - "Martha" and "Falling Down"

Summer Reads:
Fundamentalism and American Culture - by George Marsden
This Is Your Brain on Music - Daniel Levitin
Finnegan's Wake - James Joyce

Lonesome Postcard from Bodymore, Murdaland

Until I move to New York on June 22, I'm in Baltimore, working at the same website that's employed me since '06. Most of my friends in the area have skipped town for the summer or forever, so I spend most of my free time alone in the throes of media consumption.

All of this alone time has given me plenty of occasions to consolidate my fears and anxieties about The Future. Lacking more amusing fare, I'll proceed now to burden you with these fears in what I can safely claim to be the first "major downer" entry on our humble Post-Burg blog.

Last week, the publishing course FedExed me a bundle of assignments and administrative junk, among which was a handy guide to resume-writing. While well-written and undoubtedly useful in making me a salable human being, the guide also skirts some of the pitfalls of "professionalism" as I understand it. Its author foresees that some of us may be averse to "blowing [our] own horn[s]," which is the resume's raison d'etre. Her advice? "Get over it. Do you want a job or not?"

Wise words, in a sense, but they called to mind those anti-drug workshops we were subjected to in middle school, scripted scenarios in which a teenager brandishes a ripe doobie for an impressionable youth. "Get over it," the stoner tells his innocuous comrade at the first sign of protest. "Do you want to be cool or not?" Then, alack, the kid does get over it and succumbs to peer pressure and takes a big 'ol puff, because who among us doesn't crave coolness?

Back then, we were told this was a mistake. We were told to trust our finely-honed instincts, which of course held that ripe doobies were agents of objective immorality. (You might say our instincts were a wee bit off here, but for the sake of argument let's assume they weren't.)

Nowadays, the metaphorical doobie of professionalism is dangled in front of us, with the major caveat that this time we're expected to smoke it willingly. Who doesn't want a job? Who doesn't want financial independence, a fulfilling career, a sense of accomplishment in the short- and long-term? Yeah, well, good for you, kid: how 'bout tooting yer horn a little bit, being something you're not? It won't hurt you... much...

So here I am, blaring my own shrill horn to the tune of "Dixie," marketing the piss out of myself. Granted, for most members of our generation, the resume is likely small potatoes. As many critics have noted, the social networking sites with which we're so obsessed exist purely for self-promotion. Anyone well-acquainted with Facebook's little boxes -- favorite this, favorite that, blurb here, photograph there -- probably has no problem filling out his or her resume. Same product, different packaging.

But as I pare down my accomplishments and job experience to a single, wide-margined page, I can't help but feel like a fraud. It's not that I'm lying or exaggerating my achievements. The problem is more that this one piece of paper, merely by virtue of its existence, casts me as something I'm not: a greedy go-getter willing to edge out the competition in the name of efficiency, capitalism and uppercase Progress. A truly great resume oozes ambition.

And the real fear is that this comparatively insignificant piece of paper is only the beginning. Job interviews demand the same fraudulence, writ large. The prefix in "interview" suggests an exchange of views, a candid and frank conversation between people. But this is precisely what job interviews are bent on preventing. Both interviewer and interviewee are role-players, hiding certain aspects of themselves in order to live up to preconceived notions of professionalism. (If the word "interview" were interpreted literally, could there even be a passive "interviewee"? Wouldn't both parties be interviewers?) The resume-writing guide asks us to consider what employers seek when they read resumes. "A new friend? No!" Well, but why not? Why don't they want their subordinates to be their pals? Why further sever the tenuous bonds of community?

The answer, of course, is "for the sake the professionalism." As near as I can tell, "professionalism" can be defined as "the subjugation and suppression of personal interests, identity traits and idiosyncrasies, in pursuit of increased productivity in the workplace." Not to say that this is a new critique of white-collar livin'. From The Office to Fight Club to Office Space to Joshua Ferris's And Then We Came to the End, contemporary pop culture has skewered professionalism time and again. Even "Dilbert," which is about as subversive as a pack of airline peanuts, is known for mocking white-collar mores. Since the '90s and the prosperity of the Clinton era, dysfunction in the workplace has practically become a genre unto itself. Here we are, mid-2008, and we're still milking it for all it's worth.

Because it's still a problem. Is it any wonder that white-collar Americans are constantly complaining about their stress levels and emotional disconnects when they're required to conceal whole elements of their identities -- however shifting and amorphous those identities might naturally be -- for forty hours a week? Is it really surprising that we suffer from psychological conditions like imposter syndrome when it's our full-time duty to wear the mask of someone even-keeled, vibrant and engaged? Do post-grads often laud college as "the best four years of their lives" because they were then exempt from all that bullshit, the dress codes and 9-to-5 rigmarole*?

Again, I'm not avowing that I'm onto something original here. Professionalism and its accompanying afflictions are yesterday's news, traceable to Marx and all that talk of species-being and alienation; this is all pretty trite business. But now that I've committed myself to being a part of that world, its lifestyle suddenly appears more impoverished and hypocritical than ever before. I always "knew" that office life had its share of phoniness, but in a way I was unable to grasp its full import.

In many senses, these are trivial concerns. For one thing, there's no way to predict what my future workplace -- assuming there is one -- will be like. Certainly all professional environments aren't as stifling and homogeneous as I've made them out to be. Furthermore, even if my gainful employment necessitates social posturing and suppression, I will still have a job, a fancy-schmancy New York one, at that. Given such good fortune, hemming and hawing over the vagaries of "identity" is akin to looking a gift horse in the mouth.

The remaining question is whether or not it's possible to "Just Say No" to professionalism, to be the good little anti-drug kid. Is such a denial tenable? If I want to live above a certain threshold of comfort and/or available leisure time, what are my other options?

This is a really shitty postcard.

---
*Excepting business majors and certain smarmy pre-law types, whose lust for material wealth is such that they began exuding professionalism sometime between teething and learning to tie their shoelaces, experts say.

---
BOOKS
Zadie Smith, White Teeth
Denis Johnson, Jesus' Son
Nathanael West, The Day of the Locust
David Foster Wallace, Brief Interviews with Hideous Men
Junot Diaz, The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao

MUSIC
"Kim and Jessie" by M83, from the album Saturdays=Youth
"Intermission" by The Death Set, from the album Worldwide
Cadence Weapon, Afterparty Babies
Cannonball Adderley, The Black Messiah

no longer stuck in minnesota

i quit my job today because it wasn't the right position for me, as it turns out, so that's all fine and good i guess. i'm coming home to new york sometime tomorrow. my (former) boss is getting in touch with the company travel agent so i'll know my plans later tonight, i guess.
i'd imagine this needs some explanation, so here goes:
i've had mega concerns as of the last few days regarding the position, how much i actually like canvassing, whether or not this is the right place for me within this movement, how much i agree with the canvass culture i've been exposed to here in MN and whether or not i think it's an effective leadership model that i will want to perpetuate when i get back to NY, etc. yes, those are a lot of concerns. basically it boils down to: there was something unidentifiable holding me back from liking this job and thinking it was the right job for me. i mean, it simply just wasn't the right job for me. end of story.
regardless, my MN boss calls me into her office today for a one on one, which i immediately felt nervous about. she more or less outlined why my behavior and speech had given her several "red flags" about my feelings toward this job, many of which i agreed with, some of which i did not. she made sure to insult me by calling me an "immature leader" about 5 times throughout the conversation, which was neither necessary nor true, so that was fucking frustrating and of course put me in a position to feel a) bruised and b) like i needed to defend myself. i don't know if any of you have heard about this "minnesota nice" phenomenon, but it's when someone acts really nice to your face but underhandedly or backstabbingly insults and degrades you. my (...former) MN boss is a master of this.
regardless, she told me i should decide whether or not i want this job by 5 pm. i called her and resigned at 4:15.
i have a lot more things to say. switching to list format:
1) door-to-door fundraising is not for me, even if it would mean i could have a directorship title for NARAL -- it requires a seriously unique kind of person who is able to really, intensely control her emotions at all times, and i am not cut out for that
2) continuing this would have been a waste of my talents and a waste of pro-choice funds!
3) the split was amicable -- the NY office said that if they had any other positions they'd surely consider me and they're forwarding my resume to and recommending me for a community organizer position with an NYC assemblywoman

is that all? i guess that's all. i'm not a quitter; i'm just aware of my capabilities and this is not one of them.
i'm moving to brooklyn this weekend now, and i'm super fucking excited about it. also, sam was here this weekend (just left today...i called him while he was at the airport to tell him i quit) and we had a really, really nice time.
i can write more about that later.

ok that's all.
back to new york we go! where i really belong!,
cait