So I’ve been in a slump. A serious slump since I moved to NYC. After only living here 2 weeks, the Rican and I got hired as a team. But on the first day, they found out we were dating. So they kept him and said “see-ya,” to me. And it’s pretty much been downhill ever since then. For details, see my previous posts. And ever since my freelance ended (although it was a benevolent parting and they’ve promised contacts and to be a good reference) I’ve been in a serious depressed slump. The unemployed gods have waved their wands and turned this “I’m never getting married and having kids” female, into a Puerto Rican’s housewife. (Seriously, what’s better? A knife, or jumping off the Empire State?)
But the Rican said something utterly ridiculous to me this morning, that just may have helped me out of my Prozac drought. (And if anyone has any, I’m accepting donations. That goes for Ritalin and Xanex too.)
“Baby,” he started waving his hands around furiously the way he does when he gets excited. “I think I know what your problem is.”
I folded my arms across my chest. “How the fuck would you know? You had a job fall in your lap the second week we moved here.”
“No, baby.” More waving of the hands. This time, closer to my face. “Baby I know. Kanye West, Baby.”
Now the Rican is very proud of his music collection. And curls his snotty little nose up at any mention of commercial music. So I perked up a little, confused at his mention of a made for MTV rapper.
“Yeah, babes. Kanye West. You know why? You know why, baby?”
“He was annoying. You’re too afraid of annoying people.”
My arms were folded really tight at this point. I may be afraid of annoying CDs, but he was definitely not afraid of annoying me by taking ten years TO GET TO HIS FUCKING POINT.
“But Kanye West, he was annoying. Cause he was good. And he knew he was good. So that’s what he did. Annoy people. And annoy people. Until someone gave him a break. That’s what you’ve gotta do.”
And that’s when the montage gods entered my head and played...
“She take my money…”
And I loosened my folded arms a little…
“When I’m in neeeeeeeed…”
And I grabbed my laptop…
“Yeah she’s a triflin’ friend indeed….”
With rich creative directors? Damn skippy, I am.
“Oh she’s a gold digger, way up town…”
Who’s about to dig into some CD pockets. (And what a coincidence. I live uptown too.)
So the job search is about to undergo some montage. Under any other circumstances, I would have never picked a Kanye West song. But since the Rican directed some lovely (yet annoying) made-for-movie-conversation this morning, I think I’ve found my song, and the hand to pull me out of this slump.
So what I would like to know is…
A few days ago, the lovely and employed miss bacon blogged, asking us to name our strip tease song. Unfortunately I really couldn’t think of one. (And I’m a little jealous of DP's choice, “filthy gorgeous.”) But that being said, I would love to know your job search montage song. For all those that have jobs or are looking, what’s the soundtrack that would accompany your hunt? (In the glorious montage that would reduce that discouraging six months into 3 minutes of hand shaking and saccharine smiling.)
As for me, I’m back on the NYC pavement. Trying to renew my faith in a book I’m sick of looking at.
“Get down, girl. Go ‘head. Get down.”