Thursday, March 23, 2006

i'm back

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.”

“What?”

“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.

“Kanye West?”

“Yeah, babes. Kanye West. You know why? You know why, baby?”

“WHY??”

“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.”

Wednesday, March 15, 2006

delightful pessimism

i hate quoters. i hate people people that wak around with quote journals and start writing pieces with quotes and quote the whole goddamn library without ever saying anything interesting of their own.

however.

since the blog is on hiatus until my fragile confidence is restored (i'm so goddamn dramatic, i know) i found this quote too interesting to pass up. but maybe it's only interesting to me. but it's sure as hell more interesting than anything i have to say at the moment...

"An ad that pretends to be art is -- at absolute best -- like somebody who smiles warmly at you only because he wants something from you. This is dishonest, but what's sinister is the cumulative effect that such dishonesty has on us: since it offers a facsimile or simulacrum of goodwill without goodwill's real spirit, it messes with our heads and eventually starts upping our defenses even in cases of genuine smile and real art and true goodwill. it makes us feel confused and lonely and impotent and angry and scared. It causes despair."

and so the job hunt, and chance to inflict these emotions on the thoughtess masses, continues...

Thursday, March 02, 2006

more meaningless life excerpts

Since yesterday was my last day of freelance, one of my former co-workers suggested we go out for drinks. Anyone who knows me, knows I am absolutely incapable of turning that down.

Unfortunately before she offered me drinks, I promised the Rican I would cook. For some reason, this promise is always met with great excitement by him. So I was going to have to figure out how to have drinks and produce the pollo. Else I would have to endure a minimum two days of pouting because I had promised Christmas, and then failed to deliver the gifts.

While I was out my phone died. Which cut off my communication with him and my access to a time source. In the midst of scotch and conversation, I forgot my hunger and that it’s best not to deny a Rican his beans n rice. Luckily my drinking companion reminded me I better get home, so I traded having another beer for a trip to the grocery store to buy food.

Feeling nice and sauced up from 2 black labels and 2 beers, I sauntered in our apartment, tossed my computer bag on the floor like it didn’t have a computer in it, and ripped out my (fucking brand new so awesome!) iPod earbuds out of my ears.

“Where have you been? I called you like 4 times. You don’t answer your phone?” he expressed with un-rican like concern.

“Why, what time is it?” I had no idea.

“Almost nine-thirty. I was about to order dinner and call the cops!”

Note, ordering food was first in line. Good to know he has his priorities straight.