Do something, anything, for money - walk a dog, wash someone's flute, whatever, no amount of money is too small - because once you get that sweet, sweet cash, you get to restart your unemployment clock.
Suddenly you go from being unemployed for two months to being unemployed for two hours.
How awesome would an east-west light rail be? And no cars in Times Square? Fuggedaboutit, that's sweet. They already shut down part of it and it's fine, so I say go for it, world! Oh, and do another light rail above Central Park, too, because it's a biz to get from one side of the island to another once you get past 59th.
The voice in the vent has had a pretty eclectic day today.
1) I awoke this morning to him either pleasuring someone or pleasuring himself (ick) 2) He then went on a singing spree with songs I didn't recognize 3) Friends over in the early afternoon (are they all unemployed?) 4) Right now he's listening to "In the Arms of the Angel."
While the day started off with a bang (ew), it apparently has disintegrated into a "glorious sadness." I do hope he "finds some peace tonight," but I really hope I don't have hear when he gets "in the arms of" anyone else.
You can guess which one is mine (the one with food shaped like small mammals). So, while my lunch is pretty healthy (and totally cheap and organic), it still makes me much more of a seven-year-old than a twenty-two-year-old.
It probably also doesn't help that I'm watching cartoon Batman because Neil Patrick Harris is on as a singing villain, does it?
One of the many writing jobs I scanned through today requested a writing sample - fiction, specifically for teenagers - so I was going to scan through my old writing classes and see if I could find anything that fit (most of my stuff, to be honest, is by this point in screenplay form as opposed to novel-form, but whatevs), but the first file I came across was my old journal, which starts around sophomore year (2003) and runs up until this past December (2009). I'm an avid journaler, so this one is over 1,000 pages, but the first 100 are pretty hilarious. Among the many adolescent traumas and loves and angst and whatnot I noticed one great trend.
I repeatedly posted my AOL profile, the precursor to the Facebook/Myspace/Twitter/Etc profile. It's so wonderfully angsty and brilliant. Do any of you guys remember your high school profiles? Did any of you write a journal that you still have?
Also, what's up with writing jobs requiring writing samples? I'm not made of words!
... To be fair, I am mostly made of words. They stitched "Property of DTI" into my new kidney before stuffing it into my tummy. Some sort of branding opportunity or something, corporate sponsorship, you know the drill.
Stop it, Golden Retriever Puppies, just stop being so cute. Because one of these days I won't be able to help myself and I will steal one of you. And then I'll spend all of my (meager) earnings (and by earnings I mean savings since I am unemployed - er - "freelancing") on you and give up on finding jobs so I can play with you and then suddenly - spoiler alert - I won't have any money left and we'll both find ourselves living in a cardboard box near the puppy exchange at Union Square asking for pennies to pay for kibble. Do you want that, Golden Retriever Puppies, do you REALLY want that?
I just read an interesting article about Pro Bonson's book "What Should I Do With My Life?" which is basically a bunch of anecdotes from people about their careers and lives and how it all worked out. In it, the writer notes that none of the people who planned on doing a "practical" career first and then, after gaining enough wealth, switch to the career they always wanted.
For whatever reason - the comfort, the ease, the financial security, societal pressures, etc - they ended up stuck in that first position, too afraid to make the plunge into deeper waters. He suggests, then, that those stuck in this position, or those who, like me, have yet to choose a position, should just go ahead and plunge in head first and never look back. Once they're in up to their eyeballs, they'll realize they made the right decision.
What he doesn't account for, though, are all the people who, like many of my friends or comedians I know, had to do something - anything - for many years to earn enough money to live on while they pursued comedy or writing at night, almost as their second job. The difference, really, is a shift in focus. Instead of focusing on the day job, there's a focus on the night job. The day job is something you can take or leave. You have no attachment, or at least, no attachment too strong. So if you do have to leave it for a night job opportunity, you will. In that way, it goes along with this writer's "closed door" opinion, in that you turn your day job into a closed door - something that does not and cannot matter to you.
But what if you end up really enjoying your day job? What if, it turns out, you can funnel your creative energy into this position and feel satisfied at the end of the day? So that when you go to your night job, it seems less of a job and more of fun hobby. Suddenly, it's the one you can take or leave. I wonder how often that happens. And I don't mean someone "gives up." I'm not talking about some bitter dancer or film director who is still the host at TGI Fridays because they never got his or her "big break." No, the people who thought they wanted one thing, but then get swept into something completely different on accident.
In the end, I don't know which one I'll become - though here's hoping not the super depressed conciliatory person - but despite what the other writer said, I think the best attitude would be to keep all your doors open, because you never know all the places you can be happy.
While I know personally that poodles are the best dogs on the planet, I have long given up hope that my boyfriend will agree with me (despite how much he loves Sunny).
However, if I cannot prove to him that a poodle is the best, I believe I can prove that a poodle hybrid is nearly as worthy of the title. Therefore, I give you, for your consideration, Tigger, the Labradoodle.
Now, Tigger is a mini Labradoodle, but I'd settle for a standard Labradoodle, as well.
Temperament: Very affectionate and loving. With Children: Excellent with children, they absolutely adore them. With Pets: Get along well with other dogs and animals. Special Skills: They love water and are natural swimmers and retrievers. Care and Exercise: Medium activity with average exercise needs (daily walking is recommended). Flat and wavy coats only need little grooming. Curly coats require regular grooming. Labradoodle’s coats repel moisture and dirt so baths are infrequent. Training: Easy to train. Learning Rate: Very quick to learn, extremely intelligent and confident, these dogs can be very clever. Activity: They are very active yet show no aggression to people or other dogs. Living Environment: In a home with a family, singles or an active older couples. Life Span: 9 – 15 years
Some Flaws (but only sort-of-flaws):
Health Issues: Skin problems are the most common condition. But, overall, the Labradoodle is a very healthy breed. Watch-dog: Not good, they need time and attention from their owners. Guard-dog: Not good, they're too friendly. Pretty sweet deal, am I right?
Oh, and yes, the dog they chose to star is not NEARLY as cute as my baby, Sunny, but I'll forgive them since they go on bragging about them for the rest of the time. And also, 11-12 years? Most poodles live until 13-14. I'm just saying. I love poodles.