What Do We Want? Help!

Sofia and I just went to see 'Sicko', the new Micheal Moore movie. Oh my god, this should be a national requirement. It's so subversive it's like stumbling across a pot of untaxable gold. I sat in the theatre clentching my fists watching those lucky bastards the French, British, Canadians and Cubans laughing at our shitty health system. Every cell in my body screamed out "I want the fuck off this boat!! I want to go to England!" Get me the hell out of this country. How is it that we are the only, (ONLY, ONLY, There are no others) Industrial country that doesn't have universal health care? The poorest British citizen is in better health than our wealthiest because of the preventive and FREE care that their country provides. They understand that to take care of the problem before it begins, and to take away the burden of debt that lingers over the sick means their patients will either stay healthy, or get better quicker, and then be able to return to being a productive member of society. They aren't trapped in a cycle of poor health care and mounting debts. They don't have to choose between going to a hospital that is 'in the company's network' or the one that is closest. Dying on the way to the pre-approved network hospital isn't an option for these citizens. Their country actually cares about the well being of ALL of its citizens, rather than the ones that donate the most amount of money to the politicians' campaigns.

I propose a change. I refuse to vote for any politician that does not make these three topics part of their platform
1. Exit Strategy. Getting us out of the war, and rebuilding the country we've destroyed, in a peaceful healthy way should be a priority. We would save billions of dollars a month, not to mention the lives.

2. Global Warming. We can do a lot as private citizens but we could do so much more as a nation if our government would sign the bills that would help this along.

3. Universal Healthcare. Reforming our healthcare system is a necessity at this point.

All of these issues would show the American people that our government does care about THEM, not about themselves. We want a government for the people. That was our initial reason wasn't it? Somewhere along the way our ideals got lost and now we have a government that is for themselves. The point of democracy is to have a government that is afraid of the people and will work for them. This kind of candidate is the only kind I'm interested in. Once I've found him, or her I'll let you know.

I just wrote a letter to my Congressman and Senators telling them what I wanted. You can too. Do it HERE.

Go Get A Job, You Bum!

"I'm freakin' out here, man!" Those words, so true, so true, were spoken by an old hippie but they could have been stolen right out of my mouth. Except for the fact that I was quoting that old hippie in an ironic way. It's always ironic! I never say stupid things without the old ironic excuse to back me up. Thank you hipsters.
Sorry, I'm drinking my coffee very strong and black today. We ran out of sugar. Waht was my point? I've completely lost it in the haze of irony and coffee. Which is a good thing because now as I've remembered why I decided to write this post I'm starting to freak out again.

Looking for jobs is HARD! I've never really had to begin this process. Jobs have sort of come easily to me. Especially jobs I don't really care too much about. I've gotten every single job I've ever interviewed for, except one. That's a pretty good track record when you consider how many jobs I've had, and the fact that I rarely bother filling out the application and then returning it. That holds true for restaurant jobs, retail jobs, internships, you name it, I can interview for it.
And the past few jobs I've had I haven't had to apply or interview for. I think I was a little spoiled by the TV community. Someone recommends you and then all of a sudden you're hired. Now I have to look up jobs, send them my resume and hope they'll call me back for an interview. I get the distinct feeling that my resume doesn't meet standards. Who knew people would be so picky about who tutors their kids? (just joking...sigh.) I've applied at tons of places (okay, maybe not tons but it feels like it) in NOVA and haven't really heard back from many of them. I haven't heard back from Fairfax County yet about substitute teaching and I know they probably have tons of resumes and assessment tests to slog through but it's making me antsy, like I can't even get a job as a substitute teacher.

I'm sure I should keep at it and give it time, all those reasonable responses but I really hate this. I feel like once someone deigns to hire me I'm just going to be so angry at this whole process that I'll throw it back in their face. Or be so servile and grateful that I spend the next 6 months on weekend duty. All my experience and college degree doesn't seem to get me far. They seem to want people who have experience teaching or tutoring rather than experience in running for coffee or the subway.

A Capitol Fourth

Sorry about the lack of writing recently. I was pretty overwhelmed by the show for a while and then after that I didn't want to think about it for a while and relax. But the show was interesting and so much happened that I wanted to write about it, all while it was going on. I just didn't have a spare moment. Really. Starting the Monday before the show on Wednesday I was completely crazy all day. Tuesday we had to sit through an hour long security sweep. All of us in the catering tent. I had so much work to do when I came back from our forced lunch break. It was the busiest part of the day for me. As soon as we got back from lunch I had about 5 interns that were coming to volunteer for us. I was spinning faster than a tornado trying to get everything ready for the dress rehearsal. People needed their guest passes for the night but we ran out of Tuesday night passes and had to come up with some way to make some up. I printed "Tuesday Night ONLY" on white labels and made the interns put them on extra Band & Chorus badges. It's nice having interns that can do these time consuming boring tasks. I was one about 3 months ago and I totally appreciate it.

Apparently though, I hurt someone's feelings. This girl, Candice, who is the full time receptionist in the main Capital Concerts office. I thought nothing of her at first, she was nice enough, cute. After hanging out with her for a while I started to get annoyed. She was young, thought she was funny and was pretty fake nice. She was coming over to help us out on Tuesday and came shortly after all the interns had arrived. I had showed the interns around the stage and backstage and then told them they could watch the show because I didn't have much for them to do and was already overwhelmed. Candice, however, wanted to be part of the team because she worked for us too. Well, she'd been working in the main office, far removed from anything we were doing. She also hadn't brought a computer to help us out with the paperwork. She was basically reduced to an intern's role and she resented it. She thought I had been rude to her. I don't really know why or how she got this impression. I was busy and so not really able to chat but I was trying to be really nice to everyone because I know I can get short when I'm busy but I didn't want the interns to be intimidated. Anyway, she wrote my boss an email saying she didn't feel part of the team and I had been rude to her and therefore she was going to go help the Talent people instead. You don't do that! You can't decide you don't like where you are and change your job like that, without asking anyone. My boss was annoyed, and so was I. If you can't deal with a little rudeness, or what you perceive to be rudeness how are you going to make it out in the real world, and especially TV? It's a rude, crude place. Get the fuck over it. And I'm one of the nice ones.

The National Anthem Makes Me Weirdly Patriotic

Unlike Memorial Day I am much more inclined to be patriotic on the 4th of July. I know a lot of people are, but I'm usually never patriotic. I feel like those people who only go to church on Easter and Christmas, I'm only patriotic on Independence Day.
The whole 'rocket's red glare' and the 'flag through the night' thing really sets me off. Especially when it's sung by someone who's got a soaring voice. I guess it's the whole day, like Christmas is so much more Christmas-y when the tree smells good and the people around you are kind and the snow falls. When the weather is balmy and the picnic is great and the people are good and the fireworks explode so inticingly and the sky is that dusky blue shade and the fireflies blink. The smell of hot dogs and gunpowder really makes me happy. I feel oddly elated and amazed to be a part of this country. It doesn't happen often, that I'm proud of who we are and even on the Fourth I get angry and upset, but I still somehow think it will turn out alright. Overall we're decent people who believe in these abstract things like Freedom and Liberty and we have fought wars to keep it that way. Even though we screw up often, and I wish we never went to war, especially the current one, I think Americans have this funny decency buried somewhere and after a while the cruelty gets intolerable and we do something about it. Granted, it's usually followed by bloodshed. It's strange, isn't it, how many of our boys have felt the same way, and how many of them have decided that they would be willing to die for that. I wish they could decide that and feel good about that decision, but not actually have to prove it by dying, or getting maimed or scarred, emotionally or physically. I wish we could show our pride in our country without having to sacrifice these boys needlessly. Even though I think these things I am amazed at the fact that someone would care enough about these things to do that. Amazed, awed, grateful and saddened.

Man, this wasn't supposed to go down that path. I was actually just going to comment on how cute the cheerleader from 'Heroes' is, and how she has a decent voice after all. Thank god she's not just some actress who THINKS she can sing, or a singer who thinks she can sing coughbritneycoughjessicacough cough.
That's all I meant to say. And that her singing 'The Star Spangled Banner' makes me oddly patriotic, something I never really intend.

Another Day Closer

Sorry, I know I'm just feeling sorry for myself and I should quit gripping, like I did in my last post. I know that this job is short and then I get to go home and have days off. It's just that when I'm in the middle of working a lot, and don't get much time off to do the things I like to do, I forget that I have it alright and I sink into that blind frustration that sees no end. This might be why I hate working so much. I should remember that when I do have a real job I won't have to work weekends (or at least, not constantly) and I won't have to work a second job and go running from place to place like I did last summer. It also doesn't help that I spontaneously like to do things like bake or paint and so to be constricted in an office where I can't just do that seems so very cruel. The days seem long now and they're fairly boring, but in a few days I will be past all that and can indulge in things and people. And do yoga again. It's surprising how much I miss it.

As you might know, if you have been following this blog assiduously, as you should be, you would know that I have come to the conclusion that I would much prefer the lifestyle of an educator. Being able to educate young people and help them see the world in a different way, and the freedom of summers and not working in a boring office are all things that I kinda want. And the freedom to write and go back to grad school. So, after this show is finished I'm going to retire from the entertainment business and hang up my credentials and get a full time job and go to grad school. As interesting as this career blip has been, seeing the other side of all those live shows broadcast throughout the country, or filmmaking, I don't think this is for me in the long run. There are too many things that I want out of life that I see myself compromising if I continued on in this career. I don't want this badly enough. I want academia and time to read and contemplate and discuss.

A Long, Hot, Boring Marathon

I'm tired. I'm tired of sitting in this trailer and entering in all these numbers for credentials. I'm tired of having to take the bus to the metro and walk all the way down to the trailers every single morning. I'm tired of getting home every night after taking the metro and the bus. I'm tired of being tired and not being able to do anything but go to sleep. I want a weekend goddamnit. I know the show is going to be over on Wednesday and I'll only have to work until Thursday but right now that seems like a very very long time away and I don't want to have to drag myself along until then.

That's what I feel like I'm doing. I feel as though I've entered a very long distance race and at first I thought it was great, fresh air! Things to look at! I've got energy, I've got endurance, it's just a puny little race! But after awhile all of that faded away and I began wondering why I would have been stupid enough to enter in a race when I don't even like running. I see the people on the sidelines and I wish I were there with them, cheering the other idiots along and holding a nice cool beer. And right now I haven't gotten to the point where I can see the finish line, I'm still just running along, knowing it's there but getting more and more frustrated with every step and vowing to myself that once this is done I'm just going to relax and never enter another long distance race again.

Seriously, despite that excessive metaphor, I'm tired of this job and tired of having to be here everyday without vacation. I want to spend time with my friends again and watch the day slowly meander by, get some writing done, clean my room, bake something. I even want to start applying for the job I know I must get in the fall. I'm actually a little interested in it. As long as there's weekends. And no metros.

Back for Round 2

I started back at the Capitol Concerts show on Thursday. Today is Tuesday and I worked all weekend. I worked at 6:30am on Sunday and again this morning, because our producer seems to think it's necessary. I'm doing credentials again this show, but this time I have more responsibility and more stress. I actually kind of like it. I like feeling like the work I'm doing is necessary and I am a valuable part of this production. I'm not just some PA running around doing errands for any master who calls. I have tasks and getting them completed is entirely up to me. My boss tells me what needs to be done but has the confidence that I don't need to be watched over while I do it. It's as close to a real job as I've come. I guess this baby step means I could do it anywhere else I choose as well.

The same people are here on the show, but I'm not going to see much of the ones I saw last time because they are all over at the hotel and I'm going to be at the site, sitting in a trailer. Fortunately, the AC works this time.
The job is going well so far. I like it but I'm tired. I'm going to be working straight through to July 5 I'm pretty certain. After that I'm done and I'm not really sure what comes next for me.

Update

You want an update? You got it! So, obviously the Memorial Day show ended and I lived through it. Not that I really expected anything else. Although when the storm broke out thirty minutes before show time, the crowd that had already gathered on the lawn and gone through the metal detectors had to be evacuated and the capitol police, carrying automatic weapons crowded into our hot as hell trailer, their guns pointing at my toes, I wasn't so sure. Not to mention the squwaking that went on on our headsets but gave me no directions whatsoever about what to do. I wandered around backstage, sat with my mom who had come bearing a questionably worded sign for my brother. I bummed a cigarette from a beefy stage carpenter and tried to look busy. When the show ended I finally had something to do. My job was to escort the wounded veterans who had come to the show up the the Capitol where there was to be a ceremony and reception. I was excited, finally something to do! I could feel as though I was all dressed up for a reason at last. Too bad the veterans already had come with escorts and didn't need my help at all, as it was pretty obvious which direction to go, and I had no idea myself where they'd be going. I did walk up with some people and get to use my radio and call for a golf cart to carry one man up who couldn't make it on his own. I was standing in this crowd of military men, some in fatigues, some in civilian clothes and me in my skirt and wedges. I was standing there and got a message through my radio about the location of the golf carts and loudly replied, "Rodger that!" in my best professional voice. I'm used to radio lingo and the way people'd been talking on the radio had been annoying me all day. It wasn't correct! Anyway, as soon as I said that out loud all the military men looked at me with this confused, amused look, as if to say, did this little girl just use military radio lingo?

After everyone was up in the reception I got to help friendly old Rod with the positioning of the vehicles for quickest exits when people left. I was joking with an older, rather cute chauffeur that I didn't give a fuck where the cars went. I'd let them fight it out. Logistics is not my forte. I was in charge of getting the vans we were using for production into place and so I had to battle with Kenya, who had a complex about the whole thing and spent her days bossing the drivers around via radio. I think they were about to pull a Ceaser on her and gather in the Capitol building to stab her to death with their walkie antenneas. I also got into a fight with Rod, who had been my boss at the Kennedy Center but now was just being a big asshole. I turned out to be right, thank you very much.

After everything was over we all went back to the hotel and had a drink and I crashed in Patty Jovel's room until the morning when I had to go back to the AC less trailer on Memorial Day and enter in badge numbers in the computer. So much fun.

Since then I've just been hanging out at home, writing, painting, making a pair of jeans and visiting friends. I've been babysitting for some adorable little boys. It's been a good month. It feels a lot longer but I wouldn't mind seeing it continue for a while longer. But now I'm wondering when the summer will end, and when I should find a real job for the summer, and what that job may be.

Flights of Wild Imagination

This might strike you as an odd observation or comparison, but bear with me. These flights of imagination are what make me such a excellent writer.
When I was hanging outside the Washington Court Hotel yesterday in the muggy heat of another Washington summer, having a cigarette and watching the valets in their gold corded uniforms greet cars, I was reminded of Africa. Maybe it was the fact that the valets were African, or the heat, but I felt as though I had been transported across the water in a second. Then, I started to create a fantasy story for myself, to fit into the feeling I was having. Here is the story.
I imagined us as journalists and photographers who are antsy and waiting for the real work to begin. But for now we are cooped up in what passes for a luxurious hotel, where our agencies have put us up. Despite the nice surroundings and the guests who are coming and going we are casual, loud and fighting off boredom as though it were the enemy. Inside it is cool and fans whirr, creating a white noise for our conversations to harmonize with. Outside the street is a little hazy with heat and people hurry to get off the street. Something is happening. We know it, that is why we are there, but we don't know exactly what it is. In the basement, the makeshift office is buzzing. Everything is makeshift, thrown together in a moment's notice, torn down as soon as the action moves elsewhere. We know our jobs will be starting soon and we will get to actually work but for now we are forced into relaxation.
Sitting around the hotel, hanging out with young people like myself, falling asleep on couches, not fitting into the slightly worn down posh surroundings. Always waiting; waiting for word to come across the scratchy walkies to move. Moving quickly, sweating but at least we're working.

I've always had an interest in the subculture that is the news industry. Not the newsanchors but the people who actually go out and find the facts for us. The ones who hunt down the contacts and risk life for the adrenaline of getting the picture. Theirs is an exciting world, but when the action stops the boredom sets in. They take over hotels and hole up together, waiting for something to happen. They are like vultures in that way, but intriguing all the same. What is the death wish they seem to carry? And the black jovolity or jaded sense of the world? I have seen a small side of it, studying photojournalism, but I would like to know more. What is it like to sit in that hotel, knowing people are dying and you are going to go into that mess to get the story? Is it cannibalistic; or necessary to let the world know what is going on? And to be able to travel everywhere, not being a tourist, but not quite fitting in wherever you go. It must be hard, but it must be amazing and exciting.

TV Fun Times

After my ridiculous day at the Memorial Day Concert production yesterday I swore I'd never accept another tv gig unless some dream job fell into my lap. Let me tell you.
At first I was offered a job working on the Memorial Day Concert and possibly the Fourth of July show too. I thought it was great, I could come home and see all my friends, have a couple of days off in between and make some money. It was good. I told my job I'd be leaving and my roommates I'd be moving out.
A few days before I left New York I got a call from one of the production managers. She asked if I had a car and when I said I didn't she got worried. She said they might have to cut back some of my days if I couldn't get a car. I honestly didn't care. It would give me more time to hang out with my friends and get stuff done. She called back on the day I was coming down, planning to start the following day and told me they had to cut my days back to starting on the 18th. Then it became the 21st. I was a little pissed about that. I could use the money.

Yesterday I get up and make my way downtown. This means I get a ride to the bus stop, take a bus to the metro, ride to the South Capitol stop. Once I got out there I realized I had no idea where I was supposed to be going. I called the number I had and the woman who answered was rude and unhelpful. She gave me a number for the hotel the production office was at. I had to call a second time to get the actual hotel name. I walked across the Capitol lawn and up to the hotel. I was late but there was nothing else I could do. I walk into the production office and introduce myself to Lindsay. She gives me a helpless smile and says, "Did you get my messages?"
"Umm. No."
"I'm so sorry. We actually don't need you."
"What?!"
"Yeah, because you don't have a car we can't use you."
"You've got to be kidding me."
I told her I wished I had known this before I had taken the job but that it wasn't her fault, it was my phone that didn't get the messages. She got me some coffee and an orange and I left. Outside the hotel I was fuming. I was so fed up with the whole feeling of being jerked around by this company that I decided never to do tv work again. Except maybe for Mr. Barber.

I take the subway home, get a ride home from Ashleigh and make myself an omelette. I sit down and start eating. I get a call and who could it be but Rod from the Kennedy Center Honors. He appologizes for the mix up and says they can still use me for credentials. I considered it and decided I could use the money.
"So do you want to come back down?" He asked.
I almost laughed in his face.

Today is Tuesday. I came in this morning a little late. I couldn't give a shit about this stuff. I go into the trailers by the Capitol and sit around for about an hour. Rod and Paul weren't back from their meeting with the police. As soon as they come back I'm told what I need to do and I get my stuff together to take back to the hotel where I'd be working. I ask Paul a question and Paul asks Rod. All of a sudden they're in each other's face, yelling at each other and swearing. At first I thought it was a joke and then I realized they were serious. I don't know what happened or why but Rod was telling Paul to shut the fuck up and Paul was shouting about how he wanted a respectful answer. I got out of there fast.
And now I'm left wondering why I want to be in this industry at all and what is next to come.

Introducing...

The Amazing! The one of a kind! You can't see it anywhere else! We here at Silverscreen Pipe Dreams are proud to announce the new addition to our family! The One and Only One Date A Week Blog!

No, but seriously, kids, read all about it as I work my way through the dating scene in NOVA. One boy a week, one date a week, one blog all about it.

You Can't Go Home Again...Because You'll Have to Pay Rent

So I'm back in Reston, hopefully just for the summer, although we'll see. It's a little odd being home but it's funny how quickly you can readapt to a place. New York seems like a fuzzy dream from here, looking out my window into a wall of sunny trees. My house is fully loaded and we're ready for the adventures to start. Hanging out with my friends again seems like nothing changed, but in a good way. I do miss New York but it is kind of nice to be back home where I know things and can take walks down my favorite paths. I went with Julia to the Diner the night after I got back and got coffee with Sofia yesterday. We went to Uno's for Carla's birthday and it was quite fun.

I'm determined that my time here wouldn't be wasted and I will enjoy myself to the fullest extent possible. It will be a great summer to remember. I want to do things that I've been putting off for ages and I want to have fun with my friends. So, one way of doing that is getting some male involvement into the summer. I began realizing that I never date because the guys I like never ask me out and it's only guys I have no interest in dating that do. I pondered this and thought maybe it is just because they're shy, they don't know me or what to say. I'm shy too but I need to make some changes here so I have officially embarked on a trial. It's called Operation Meredyth Asks Out Boys or OnceAWeek or growing some balls, whatever you want to call it. And last night in its inagural run I scored. I chatted up a cute French boy sitting alone at the bar at Uno's. Why would a cute French boy be sitting at a lame bar in Reston, VA you might ask. I asked it too. Imagine my luck. I smiled at him, he smiled at me, I made excuses to go up to the bar, I finally introduced myself. He reminds me a little of the boys in this previous post and that makes me very happy. So, be sure to check out my newest blog for all the details.

List o' Celeb

So, since this is a blog essentially about my life as a cog in the film industry I thought I'd make a little list of all the "famous" people I've seen lately. Some more so than others.
1. Max Weinstein from the Bruce Springsteen band and Conan O'Brien. Came into the restaurant with his wife and daughter. Looks like a lawyer.
2. Christy Turlington carrying her son to daycare, giggling together and looking adorable and perfect.
3. Uma Thurman and a bunch of people in the bar after a screening. She was with some other actor who's name or movies I don't remember. Very pretty and tall. Both of them. She and he were very flirty. Sometimes I feel bad that celebrities get pictures taken of them when they're just being friendly with a guy but when I see this ridiculous PDA I think they're just asking for it. Even if they're in a private restaurant. You're still going to get gossip. Leave it at home. Or just don't care.
4. Sarah Michelle Gellar and Freddie Prinz Jr. She's cute, he looks even more dull in person. Shorter than I expected. Came into eat and when they were leaving some idiot at the bar pretended to think she was somebody he knew and asked Freddie "is that...Meredith?" To which Freddie in an overly protective way said "No. It isn't" and ushered her out the door. Lame.
5. Jimmy Fallon sitting at the bar during midday.
6. James Gandolfini going to the pizza place across the street.
7. Adrien Grenier going up to the door of the grill as I was leaving and then going to Jin Mart where I go every day after work. Of course I followed.
8. Whoopi Goldberg coming down from a Juror's Lunch as I was waiting for the elevator. I smiled at her and she smiled back.
9. Anna Paquin, Mary Stuart Masterson, Thomas Haden Church at the Grill for cocktails with a company that is a Tribeca Film Festival sponsor. Anna did a good job of looking interested in what a bunch of most likely boring businesspeople had to say. Mary looked surprisingly chic. I always imagine her as tomboyish due to the movies I've seen her in (Some Kind of Wonderful, Fried Green Tomatoes, Benny & Joon) but she's really pretty and very cool seeming. Both of them chatted happily together for a while and I wished I could be friends with them. Thomas Haden Church looked a little confused as to why he was there but the open bar didn't seem to disuade him from staying. He looked affable. That word perfectly describes him.

And there, you have it. My list o' celeb. I may or may not be in some pictures taken at the party. If so we will post them and laugh at my dumb expressions.

Carpe the Fucking Diem

Sorry it's been a while since I've posted. As some anonymous person said I should do I've 'been living my life in the moment.' Sorry, can we stop a minute and ponder the level of bullshit that trite saying is? How do you actually do that? Can anyone actually do that all the time? Because I'm constantly registering the things that go on around me for later. I write, and so all these things get back somehow to what I'm writing. I'm always weighing or observing things so that I can adequately describe them later. That's why I don't live in the moment constantly. And between living in the moment and writing well...let's just say I'd rather write. I'm sorry, I just think that in this day and age a majority of our time is spent on self reflection. Do I look alright? Am I being funny? Is this a good place to stand? Is that person looking in my direction? Am I telling this story well enough?
Even if you're not so self absorbed as to wonder whether the music/clothes/movies/books/comics/furnishings you like are cool enough you're still wondering about other things that make up who you are. And yes, of course you're living in the moment. Everyone is actually living in the moment. But after whatever event that just happened is over, even if it's just strolling through the park you're thinking and categorizing that stroll in the park. "The leaves sure were green today. I wonder if that's what Frost's line "Nature's first green is gold" refers to. I love walking in parks when the trees are first green and the dark bark contrasts against it. And the people in the park today sure were interesting. That busker playing the violin made this moment one you'll look back on, when you no longer live in New York, as a quintessintial New York spring moment. I'll always remember the park this way." See? Even when I'm doing nothing I'm quantifying it afterwards! So, sorry if that's not living in the moment. I've got plenty else to do.

23 and counting.

I'm at an odd crossroads in my life. I lament the fact that life isn't happening sooner, faster, now! I want my life to begin now! And I feel like I'm constantly waiting for a moment when it will begin. As though I'll know it when it arrives. And at the same time I'm trying to 'remember' things that happen now for when I'm older and wondering what I did when I was 23. What am I doing? Sitting in my room online, watching TV, wondering why I can't make friends in this city or where the money for going out with them will come from. I honestly feel like more of a loser in this city than I did before. Wow.
I thought when I moved to New York I'd really be doing something, doing something worthy of remembering when I'm 80. I don't know when those times will begin but if they do I'll be right here waiting for them.

Is it better to live in a very cool town without money and friends, for the sake of the coolness, or better to live in a cheap place for the sake of the friends and freedom from 'coolness'?
To be in a city or not to be. That is the question.

3 A.M. Revolution

Most of you who know me in real life know that, while I grew up in the Washington D.C. area, I spent my formative years in Montreat, NC. These formative years were only from 8-10 but my family still holds the time we spent there dear. An Eden we were forced to leave because my dad was in the technology industry. And while Asheville maybe known for mountains it is not known for technology. My strongest memories of living in Montreat were of 'creek-hopping' and raspberry picking in the summer, finding fairy hiding spots, tramping through snowy woods, playing house in the old maid's quarters of our house- yeah, our house had a maid's quarters. We also had a room dedicated to dress-ups, which were old clothes the former tenants left. They had lived there for 40 years! We found their old love letters under the stairs. We knew all the kids in our neighborhood-which was basically the whole town- because we all rode the bus to school, went to the same church, and played together after school. Montreat was more like a residential community with a college than a town. There are no commercial buildings in it, unless the hotel counts. It's on the edge of another, actual town, Black Mountain, where this art school used to be.

Why do I bring these places up? Other than name-checking them to endear yourself to me, you probably couldn't care less. But last night, when I couldn't fall asleep I started having a 3 a.m. idea- you know, those revolutionary ideas you get when you're exhausted and on the edge of sleep that seem ridiculous and delusional the next morning. Well, this idea wouldn't let me sleep, to the extend that I did a little online research at 4:44 a.m. instead of sleeping. And after doing a little research I also began thinking about the fact that New York is old school hip. It's still just hanging on to the idea people have of what's cool. All that's left now is the bitter dredges. (And some cool people here and there.) But with the internet and other ways of communicating ideas the coolest places don't have to be New York or L.A. anymore. With the advent of the internet New York has lost its cool. So you want to know what was my grand idea and what does it have to do with these places? I'm so glad you asked!
Living in New York for the past four months has made me think about a lot of things, namely how I'm going to afford to live here, find a job, find friends, find a different apartment, what I'm going to do with my life. I really like New York but I feel like the experiment is drawing to a close. I don't think I'm quite prepared for New York yet, but that it was an amazing thing to have thrown myself into. If I had a job I loved here, and more people, I think I could love it for a long time. But I feel very lonely here. And broke. Those are not two things I like much.
My idea was about teaching, and specifically, teaching in a fairly cool, smaller town like Asheville. I checked out craigslist and for the price I'm paying now I could be living here. Wow. That's quite a compelling reason. But to be more practical here are a list of my other reasons to consider moving here for a year to teach before going to grad school.
1. It's cheaper.
2. UNC-Asheville is a good school where I could take grad classes
3. Good experience for future, and for grad school references.
4. I know a lot of people from my childhood in the area
5. Still a cool town for seeing shows, going out. Might even encourage me to go out more. I'm a little agorophobic.
6. Lots of nature, natural beauty
7. If I worked in a depressed area I could do some good.
8. I want to go to a good grad school, in a relatively cool area, I'd only be here for a year so it's not like the end of the world.

But, as with everything, I don't know my own mind. I mean, I do know my own mind, I'd like to rush down there right now and try to set up this fanciful life that has nothing to do with reality. I tend to run away from things when they're not going as I imagined. For those reasons I want to stay in New York, to face it, get used to it and get to better know some of the really cool people I've met here. But I worry that I won't have the money to do that, or the job. Come the end of May my internship at the production company will be ending and I don't know where I'll go next. I've sort of decided that if I have no viable job prospect by the end of June or no other pressing reason to stay I will move back to NoVa for a few months and then down to Asheville, if I can find a teaching job. Turns out you need things like licenses to do that these days!
And now we come to you, dear reader, please give me your opinion about all of this, whether moving to Asheville and teaching is a good career move or a stupid escapist fantasy that won't play out. Or if you have any information about finding a teaching job for a recent college grad. (Except TeachforAmerica. I missed the deadline on that, unfortunately.)

Feel free to leave your comments anynomously. Sometimes I don't listen to my friends and family's advice, even when I know it's coming from a good place. Thanks and Love, Meredyth

My Moment of Non-Zen

Man. I always knew former U.N. ambassador John Bolton was a loyal Bushie but I had forgotten that to be a loyal Bushie means to run around spouting nonsense and bad democratic theory as though you couldn't hear just how dumb you sounded. maybe President Bush should promote John Bolton. He can be Head Runaround Ass Kisser.
I thought it was pretty amusing how he turned everything Jon Stewart said into an inversion and just kept doing going, even as he got buried deeper and deeper. That's one of the biggest problems with this administration. They don't know how to make a U-turn, reverse or even backpedal. All they can do is keep plowing forward. With any luck they'll keep at it for so long and so hard over the next 21 months that they'll just end up in China. They're the most loyal sons of bitches I know, except maybe the Nazis. And we all know how they turned out. That's right. They got to eat ice cream on top of a mountain of blonde girls holding puppies... I mean...they ended terrorism, of course. I mean, who doesn't want yes men? Especially when you've got a divided country to run?

Practically Perfect In Every Way

The girls in the NY Times article, that can be found by clicking on the above title, seem to have a lot of confidence about where they're going. They may be worrying about which top college they'll get into but they aren't worrying about whether or not they can succeed. I think that's pretty amazing, and also a little intimidating. Amazing because I'm proud that these girls are able to accomplish so much and still seem to be somewhat normal. Intimidating because they are about 7 years younger than me and are already able to discuss Kirkegaard with some intelligence. I haven't even read Kirkegaard yet! They're going to be the ones who get all the jobs around here.
But I'm not really worrying about my future here. I know, it's a first. I'm actually just wondering about my past. And the future of these girls. I wonder what would have happened to me if my parents had pushed me to the same level of achievement these girls are pushed to. Even though I wish my parents had encouraged me more in my path to college I don't think I would have understood the purpose or importance behind it. I would have just been pissed off, and probably would have tried a little harder to sneak out of the house. When I was 17 I wasn't thinking about college at all. Much less at 14. I knew college was somewhere I'd end up, but I was more focused on getting out of high school, and really starting life. My last month of school I had no idea where I was going to be in the fall, but I wasn't really interested. Instead I wandered around the hallways with dreams of Africa floating before me. And I got there. The next summer I spent two weeks in Kenya, after a long lay over of four days in London, all on my own. I might not have read Camus in my AP English class but I did read Sarte as a sophmore, purely because I was interested in it. I took AP European History because I enjoyed it, not because I knew I could pass the test and get college credit (that's what AP Government was for). The reason I bring this up is because I think it's important that we develop a love of learning on its own, not just learning by rote. I don't think the girls profiled in this article fall victim of that, but I think a great many high school students do.

I feel like one of those old people who talk about working hard for money so they could eat, not working hard for money so they could go shopping, but I do sort of worry about these over acheiving girls. I don't worry so much about when they have the freedom to party in college because I didn't do much of that myself. I worry about when they are like me and out of college, wondering where to go next, what to do with their lives. When suddenly you have no prescribed course of action. We're marrying later and later and having families at a later age and I don't want to change that. I think women having careers is important. But I also know that now that I'm faced with the challenge of making it on my own, away from college I'm a little scared. I wonder what it would be like to just have it all planned out, marry, have kids, raise them. I don't see that for me but I can see it's appeal. It's part of the reason why I'm interested in going back to grad school. Another form of structure. Another preparing for and postponing of the day when life must begin.

You Gotta Have Class

Sometimes I wish I were old and my life were laying out before me and I could look back at things. I'm watching "Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid" and was reading about Robert Redford and Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward. They are three people I really admire, not just because they're famous and talented actors but because they didn't let that define them. They seem to have led full and interesting lives because they didn't think that all they were worth was as an actor. They found other things that also were important to them and let that lead their lives. But my guess is that the money they earned from the movies gave tthem the capital to do that. Man, what can I do to get some capital? And why the hell can't I stay on course? I was supposed to be talking about how much I liked those three but now all I can think about is if I could make it as an actor. Maybe I'm charasmatic enough to let things like looks not matter. Or maybe I'm secretly quite talented. Probably not. Or at least not enough for movie standards.
And then I think about writers I admire and the young generation like Jonathan Safran Foer and the older generation like Joan Didion and wonder if maybe I'm a good enough writer to at least get a book published. And then I hate myself for wanted to sell my passions for cold hard cash. But that cash doesn't seem so cold or hard when I could use it to keep me warm and have a nice place to live.
Then I just think about how much I like Joanne Woodward in "The Long Hot Summer" and I wonder if maybe I could a classy dame like her when I'm older. That's what I'm hoping for. Money or not I want to be a classy old lady who doesn't give a shit but is also compassionate, intelligent and kind. Maybe I'm projecting. I don't care. That's what role models are for after all.

Lost New York

I've loved New York since before I realized it was a place to love. When I was 5 I was watching Sesame Street and I asked my parents if we could move there. They, thinking I would forget about such an outlandish idea immediately agreed and I was so excited. Soon I too would be sitting on those steps having conversations with furry animals and adults who were only there to educate and encourage. Maybe I could even get Oscar to be friendlier. Or I could find out exactly how he lived in such a confined space. Was the garbage can just an entryway and his real home was underground? Or was it like Mary Poppins' carpet bag? I would be in the know. Obviously I cared very much about the community aspect of Sesame Street, and I can only conclude that my five year old self understood that Sesame Street was a microcosym of a real New York street where all sorts of people from different walks of life passed by. Obviously.
Anyway, as you might suspect the whole move didn't quite work out. I blame the fact that I had younger siblings for somehow influencing my parents in their decision not to move into a city apartment, but I've always been a little disappointed that I didn't grow up in the city. Of course lots of people will cite statistics showing that a kid growing up in the city is exposed to all sorts of risks and bad influences, but when I was fifteen and reading 'The Basketball Diaries' or 'Frannie and Zooey' I felt differently. Not that I wanted to become a drug addict or anything, but I wanted to escape the boredom of a small town and the placidity of that life.
Now that I am here I still wish I could be experiencing New York. But, as usual, I'm living in the past. I wish I could experience the New York of yesteryear. I want to know the world of the avant garde poets and playwrights in Greenwich Village, the excitement of social change in the Lower East Side and the immigrants who made this country. I want to know the diners and coffeeshops of New York during World War II and the air of glamour during the fifties. The radicalism of the liberal 60s a and the party scene of the 70s. I wish I could really know what it would be like to see New York through all those times. Through the good years and the bad, the transitions of the neighborhoods and watch the kids of immigrants grow up.
Lately a new era has sprung into my mind as something to have seen in New York. I never really considered it before but it definitely has had an influence on how I perceived New York as well. The Eighties. Ahhh. Was there ever such a strange decade as that? I wish I could have seen the East Village in all its day glo glory. To meet the young musicians, filmmakers and artists that came to its streets dreaming of fame, beauty and freedom. To hear the music of Arthur Russell in the early dawn after an all night party and to feel the rush of punk music at CBGB. Or watch the rise of Jean-Michel Basquiat and an unusual form of music called hip hop. And can anyone forget the fashion? It seems to me that the clothes were just a joyful embrace of the ridiculous. None of this hipster pretention. It was all pretty crazy. My perception of what made the East Village and the Lower East Side so cool at this time was that a lot of people who were the social outcasts of their hometowns moved to New York to be with others like them, and the excitement of finding likeminded people spilled through. I know a lot of tragedy has since ended some of the exuberance of this decade. AIDS and drugs made the world look bleak and garish in the harsh light of reality. But at the same time, the pictures I see in the books I've been absorbed by at the bookstore make me wish I could have been a part of that crazy, free for all scene. Where it was all about the aesthetic and the fun. New York these days seems watered down in comparison to the life of the party it was then. Too many kids pouring in from all over trying to get a taste of the big city and all it has to offer. I'm one of them. But I wish that just for a little longer, just for my sake, it could have remained the city it was then.