Monday, April 18, 2011


Interviews- N. One of the most devastating realities in our culture, where desperate job seekers are thrown into an incredibly awkward begging process incited by generic questions and assuming holders of their future. I'm not sure if there's anything I dislike more than having to sit in a group of others all outwardly hoping they give the most enticing answers and that you screw up. Group interviews are worse than one on one interviews for numerous reasons, but the one that gets me the most frustrated is the fact that in a setting like that people tend to be a little bit apprehensive to show themselves. It may be out of insecurity or from sheer, incapacitating shyness which I guess can be a result of insecurity. Anyway, that's not always the case for the "quiet interviewer" as I have now dubbed that person we've encountered at least once. The person sitting in the corner, staring around anxiously, praying the hour goes by faster. However, these "quiet interviewers" are not necessarily bad workers or innately timid people. In a group interview, though, it's hard to give them a chance if they don't speak. I know I know that's the whole point I suppose, to weed out the seemingly socially handicapped people in turn for boisterous, borderline obnoxious, enthusiastic applicants. Sigh. Something just seems wrong about that kind of logic. I bet there are hundreds of people being affected by this ridiculous group interview process and there's nothing we can do to stop it. All I can do is write about how unfair and inefficient it is and advise anyone who does happen to be thrown into that horrible situation to SPEAK OUT!
Oh and my internet is working again!

Mumford & Sons are my new favorite!

I'm out.

Wednesday, April 13, 2011


For most of my adult life I have been encountering alarmingly consistent experiences with numbers. For instance, almost every day since I was in college I have caught the numbers 4:20 on a clock. This has nothing to do however, with my serious marijuana addiction. I'm convinced the reason for seeing this number resides in some strange cosmic destiny that I must fulfill. What destiny? I have no idea! And no, I am not as avid a pot user as one might assume haha, that was a joke. A terrible one at that considering my age and location and the not so secret predeliction writers have for drugs. I'm not saying I'm a writer. Well, maybe a self-proclaimed one. I do enjoy it's visceral pleasantry that graces my being every so often. Sigh. Man, I am TIRED. I'm barely making sense... May as well keep going.

Another number I see often is 42, just on number off of 420. WHAT DOES IS IT ALL MEAN?! In an effort to allay my frustrations and acquire some knowledge I decide to look up the numbers in Wikipedia and see if anything significant popped out at me. NOTHING DID. Minus my surprise by the amount of mathematical jargon in both articles, however, upon further reading about 420 I learned about some interesting gatherings help every year on- you guessed it- April 20th. Apparently 420 is a BIG deal in Boulder, Colorado. I should ask my friend from there about her experiences on the date. Canada and New Zealand also tend to get a little wild for the green holiday and massive amounts of people come together in a haze of smoke and wonder to enjoy collective euphoric moments. It sounds like a blast.

So, in my research I have found absolutely nothing to quell my curiosity or conclude my confounding inquisition. Wonderful. SO with that I will retire to bed and continue to see these numbers without an iota of understanding.


Ew. It's edited.

I'm out.

Thursday, April 7, 2011

Just Do It

Battling for months with this ongoing uneasiness with life and where I want to be and who I want to be and all that existential garbage prone to a paranoid, absurdly self-aware, judgmental being, I have finally concluded that I need to "Just Do It."* Not only does this apply to my career, but to everything in life. For too long I've been scared to just leap into something without knowing exactly what the outcome will be and not fearing it wholeheartedly with the nerves of a tadpole. So in my continuous attempts to better my situation I shall try a different approach. No more excuses, no more talking, no more half-assed attempts, it's game time. I got my helmet on, and I look ridiculous but I don't care. Complaining about things is starting to wear on my nerves, and I'm sure my friends would not be completely opposed to never hearing me say, "I need to get outta there," ever again. Sorry guys. Also, I really need to focus time on creativity. I haven't written anything decent in months... Infuriating writer's block is to blame for this horrid dry spell. However, so is laziness and apathy, two emotions I've been all to found of for the last few weeks. It's so easy to just not care. It's so easy to just let things happen and not focus on goals. Goals. What a scary word. It has so many weird, complex connotations. It means so much, but can also be so fleeting. Anyway, I need to dedicate time to doing something I've grown to love beyond words haha get it... cuz it's writing. Sigh. Clinging to that ounce of passion I know is floating around in me somewhere I've got to get my drive back. I also think I need to get out of the city for a little bit to help me put things in perspective. I feel like with the constant motion of Brooklyn and Manhattan it's definitely easy to loose a little bit of yourself amongst all the flashing lights, all the moody people, all the sounds. I need to go somewhere not so... loud- all that racket- yes, I'm 85.
Well thanks for reading everyone, I really do appreciate you taking the time out to read my narcissistic indulgences.

Story of my life.

***Let it be known I denounce any affiliation with Nike, for obvious political/moral reasons. Damn them for creating such a relevant tag line.***

I'm out.