I CAN SEE CLEEEEARLY NOW

I just got reading glasses.  My quality of life has improved a kajillion-fold.

Easy 'Cause You're Beautiful

Greetings from the long island, where Abby (romper girl, for the new york set) and I are enjoying a very leisurely (see also: fattening) existence. This morning I had cookies and scones for breakfast after sleeping 12 hours after a car-ride filled with easy-listening sing alongs with my father, sister, and brother-in-law. None of this is important. BUT I did have two very interesting dreams last night. The first was that my job gave me benefits effective as of october. And secondly that I had a very intense driving-range-competition that I lost and freaked the fuck out.

anyway now on to reality:

I'm glad that we all seem to be progressing to some sort of self-sustainable adulthood, which is to say, holler at making money. I have only recently realized how much of a pay-cut I've taken by quitting my job with my dad. But man, has my quality of life improved.

I think I might, maybe, have a by-line in a future issue of T+L which is thrilling, granted it will be a "researched by" or some equivalent, and potentially not a by-line at all but a girl can dream.

Josh and I have started wearing matching outfits to work - just color-schemes, for now - we're going to see how long it takes for someone to notice. I think it's going swimmingly, I think everyone who has a friend at work should do it.

My first real volunteer experience was totally lame. I knit at the Prince George Hotel, a low-income "hotel" that's really a halfway house. We were supposed to knit baby-blanket squares with residents but none showed up so it was me, and four other volunteers making squares and being awkward. I don't think I'll go back again, we'll see how dog-walking in Harlem goes.

This is an ill-constructed post but basically the gist is, I'm really happy, and I don't think it's lunar. I think I've actually made a life for myself. My job is great, my apartment is great, my roommate is fierce, my volunteering is (in the future going to be I hope) rewarding, and I've started seeing this awesome dude. (eek, this makes me uncomfortable)

I love you all.


ps. cait, let's invite taylor rubin and hayley to this. And can we permanently change the timestamp?

Moving along

Hey all,

Life is going pretty well. Although I admit life does sort of settle into a rhythm, I am, for one, glad to be past college. I enjoy the freedoms and people I meet everyday here, with the chance to hear stories and go places that college just can't afford -- and I mean that financially, too.

Our newest housemate, Sarah McCann, is still looking for a job, but she's only recently come to Virginia. I can recall how hectic the job market was; and heck, I will be back there some day. For now, I'm fairly content being a newspaper reporter/editor for an alt. weekly.

I will admit alongside Dan, I do fear death. Hell, news of that beheading in Canada put me in a real rut. And the scores who continue to die needlessly around the world, coupled with the thousands who die naturally. Boy, life does seem fairly finite, doesn't it?

But I don't really mind. We can't be held back by our pasts and the inevitable future. And I'm pretty sure the future holds some really good things.

Like Bill Maher's movie "Religulous" -- GO SEE IT. And Real Time -- his show on HBO -- returns tonight. Woo-hoo!

All things said, I miss the company of all of you, especially my New York compatriots. I must make that leap and buy the ticket to the city.

just sayin'

i'd like to briefly note that this blog was the best idea ever, as it brings me endless joy.

k thats all

The Prodigal Son

If you're wondering if I've forgotten all of my dearest friends, who, collectively, are my one shining beacon of hope in this miserable postgrad existence, you can rest assured that I've been closely following your comings and goings on this blog with much hand-wringing and bated breath. In a good way.

I am aware that it's a bonified asshole move to compare myself to the biblical prodigal son through the title of this blog post, but I'm happy to be back on the blog scene, although I have no fresh ideas! I've been hitting the bricks hard recently, and the best thing coming my way so far is a job as a pharmacuetical market researcher. Yes, that's right, big pharma. Well, a consulting group that leeches off of big pharma. It'll help me sleep at night. Essentially I'd be putting my sociology experience to use analyzing the ins and outs of why doctors prescribe certain drugs. Or something. The job itself seems soul-crushing, but it has that really important quality of jobness -- that is, being a job -- which my broke ass doesn't seem to have the option of turning down.

So, RE: Cait, don't worry, I feel exactly how you feel, and I've applied for plenty of receptionist positions and been turned down. Actually a lot. That kind of sucks. And the alternative, i.e. soul crushing market research, isn't a whole lot better, so don't fret!

But on a positive note, let's please all visit each other a lot and enjoy the fact that we're in our early twenties!

P.S. I've made a conscious effort to use "yall" more, now that I'm up north, even though I was vehemently opposed to in while in virginia. I miss college....

it's hard not to admit defeat

today i got a 3-month temping assignment at a very heartwarming and wonderful non-profit
--that's the good news --
the bad news being i've been placed there as a receptionist/administrative bitch. i really have nothing to complain about i guess, because i am gainfully employed while i search for a full-time job that i really like, but i can't shake the sinking feeling that i've graduated college with a BA and a double major and i won't be able to find any other jobs besides receptionist positions. this thought caused me to have a nervous breakdown on my lunch break.
there's no way i possibly could have spent 20+ hours a week in meetings and events in college (not to mention the time spent on coursework) to become a receptionist. right? there's no way that's fair or appropriate at all. there's no way there are an infinite number of people my age in new york city who are interested in the same jobs as me and are more qualified than me, right? for fuck's sake, there can't possibly be more than like 60 kids of comparable age in new york city right now who are applying for the same jobs as me and have more experience. seriously. i lived to be overextended in undergrad. i loved having absolutely no free time. i enjoyed that shit. how am i not getting noticed?
if there's anything i hate in life, it's being undervalued. and i'm feeling pretty fucking undervalued right now.
well, i interviewed for a job 2 days ago and i should know if they're hiring me within the next few days. so at least that's...potentially good. or potentially another piece of shit to add to the list.

in much better news, sam and i are going ROLLERSKATING here tomorrow night!!!!! if any of you new yorkers are around and want to come please give me a call. it's gonna totally make my week.

oh, right: and on sunday my dear old high school friends -- the utterly ridiculous pop-punk band patent pending -- are playing with andrew w.k. on long island. naturally i'm going. that will surely be a night to remember.

READING:
if on a winter's night a traveler by italo calvino
LISTENING:
my favorite book by stars
suffering jukebox by the silver jews (thanks sam)
all i need by radiohead

Death Cannot Be Outstripped ... and Other Good News!

I. Death Cannot Be Outstripped ...

Yesterday marked the first First Day of Classes of which we haven't been a part. It's official: academia has moved on without us. Worse yet, the constituents of the incoming Class of 2012 were born in 1990. 1990! The biggest pop hit that year was Sinead O'Connor's "Nothing Compares 2 U" -- a Prince cover, and it still sucks. (By contrast, the biggest hit of '86 was Falco's "Rock Me Amadeus." 'Nuff said...)

I think it's safe to say that we're about to miss our undergrad days that much more. It's one thing to have left college, but quite another to confront incontrovertible evidence that the university microcosm can and will continue turning without us. During graduation, I kept telling people that it was making me think of death. This is because I am, at heart, an astoundingly morbid person who thinks about death all the time and lives in abject fear of its finality. ("Death cannot be outstripped," sez Heidegger, among other things. Like, "No one can die your death for you," and, "The World worlds, and Beings are all thrown into dwelling in the worlding World.") Morbid or not, days like Wednesday confirm the validity of that death analogy. I wish I could say that today's W&M students are just trying to survive without our guiding lights, to fill the gaping chasm left by our absence. They might look content on the outside, but their insides are sweltering catacombs of grief and existential uncertainty.

But really, they're doing pretty alright without us, I guess, maybe.

***

II. ... And Other Good News!

I have a job, and it begins on 15 September. The job is at a place called the *I*n*s*t*i*t*u*t*e* *f*o*r* *t*h*e* *F*u*t*u*r*e* *o*f* *t*h*e* *B*o*o*k*. (Suck on that, Google.) It's a think tank, the mission of which involves rather nifty stuff like shifting modes of discourse, humanism, technology, post-Gutenberg life, Marshall McLuhan, interconnectivity, the work and the network, etc. Funded by boatloads of grant money. Led by a charismatic tech-guru. More details as they arrive.

I have a lease, and it begins on 1 September. The apartment is in Crown Heights, Brooklyn. Now, before you get on your high horse and accuse me of really, really wanting to be black and all that, consider this: it's very inexpensive. And it has great subway access. And it's -- I jest not -- an up-and-coming gay neighborhood. My reasoning? If the GLBTQ community thinks it's a good place to live, it must be. (They're a finicky people. High standards, Double-Income-No-Kids lifestyles, etc. etc.)

Neither of these advances would have been possible without the hospitality of certain fellow Post-Williamsburg bloggers, on whose strikingly refined leather couch I spent many a pleasant night.

Wish I could give this whole thing a more cohesive structure, but that's all I've got at the moment.

***

III. The Last of the Summer Reading List

Paul Auster, Man in the Dark
Donald Barthelme, Forty Stories
Donald Barthelme, Sixty Stories
Rivka Galchen, Atmospheric Disturbances
Douglas Hofstadter, I Am a Strange Loop
Lewis Hyde, The Gift: Creativity and the Artist in the Modern World