Travel Down the Road and Back Again

When I was little, one of my absolute favorite shows was The Wonder Years.  As much as I enjoyed watching the trials and tribulations of little Kevin Arnold and the sweet voiceovers, the thing that pulled me in was the theme song:

“With a Little Help From My Friends” by the amazing Joe Cocker. 

I had no idea that The Beatles sang it first until the show was off of the air. I dismiss most remakes as pale imitations of the originals* but in this case, there is simply no comparison.  I have no desire to denigrate The Beatles (who many people worship as Gods…they were never my deal) but even if we put the magnificent quality of Cocker’s voice aside, his version is superior because it broadcasts raw emotion.

In the Beatles’ version, Ringo is going through the motions.  He sounds equal parts melancholy, hopeful and dopey. His friends help him out sometimes – maybe they lend him that two pounds he needs for a proper English Breakfast with extra beans in tomato sauce or get him drunk when a woman dumps him for one of his hotter bandmates.  When Ringo is sad, his friends will listen, pat him on the head and say a few encouraging words.  Then Ringo will magically feel better and hop dopily into the sunshine.

By contrast, I get the sense listening to Joe Cocker’s version that he really does get by with a little help from his friends...  Cocker sounds like he is hanging by a string even with them. 

Ringo’s friends are at least essential to superficial happiness. Joe’s friends are literally his lifeline. Joe’s friends pick him up off of the bar floor after he has passed out in a pool of his own vomit after binge drinking following life’s latest disappointment.  They clean him off in the shower and force water down his throat before fixing him a nice bed on the sofa.  Then, they park a chair by the sofa and watch Joe for long enough to ensure he does not choke on his own vomit.  The next morning, Joe will have a massive headache and he and his friends will sit down to a meal of toxic black coffee and perfectly greasy bacon.  They’ll listen to him air his grievances, offer some words of comfort or advice and tell Joe that he needs to pull it together.  Of course, everyone enjoying bacon knows that they will all be back in the space soon, stoic and unwilling to abandon Joe as he fights his demons.

Ringo has friends.  Joe has FRIENDS.

I have FRIENDS.  The same way I have FAMILY.  Without FRIENDS and FAMILY under/unemployment would be unbearable.

I should have done this post sooner but I was especially inspired yesterday.  After working an 8 hour shift (had to get up at quarter to six) which included making a large non fat latte for my former college roommate (at Harvard law by the way and summering at a firm where she makes more in a week than I do in a month.  “Disillusioned! Table for One!”), I came home to discover a package from B3 (cubed) even though I am not getting married or moving. 

It was amazing Eucalyptus jersey sheets.  Sheets fit for a Queen (or, at least, Pippa Middleton).  This level of empathy and thoughtfulness is quite rare in people, but not uncommon amongst my favorite people. So, a shout out to Ms. Frank, the inspiration for this post: an amazing woman and a fabulous friend.

When it comes to FRIENDS I lucked out.  I scored the Megamillions (or Powerball, whichever is bigger). I do hate to get all Jebus-y but I am blessed.

I want to highlight just a few of the awesome things friends have done for me through my unemployment/underemployment that has helped keep the Black Days more limited in number than they would otherwise be:

·      Buy me brunch; bonus if it included unlimited mimosas and you chided me and insulted my womanhood when I only drank four.

·      Visit me and take me to new places to DC (even though I am the one who lives here)

·      Treat me to Yuenling draft

·      Continue to invite me to places even when I hermit it up 80% of the time

·      Fly/travel to see me in a foreign country and then wait outside in the mercurial Swedish weather to cheer me on in a half marathon.

·      Put me up in New York and Atlanta and Goteborg and wherever else I decide to invite myself

·      Send me job announcements laced with heavy hints that I should move to where they live

·      Indulge my desire to do things like eat Big Gay Ice Cream and run in Central Park

·      Find the perfect balance between respecting my space, inquiring after my welfare and encouraging me.

·      Send me salacious emails about former classmates and celebrities.

·      Listen to me when I bitch and moan (totally includes reading this blog. Pat yourself on the back, friend!)

This is totally how I feel about you guys:

In a maudlin, 80s, too-much-fabulousness-for-one-room-way:

In an early 90s-kicking-the-heroin-habit -together-way (I am Anthony; You are Hillel):

Or, in the quintessential way:

Octavia Butler (RIP) perhaps said it best:

“Sometimes being a friend means mastering the art of timing. There is a time for silence. A time to let go and allow people to hurl themselves into their own destiny. And a time to prepare to pick up the pieces when it's all over.”

*Exceptions:

Love Song – 311 (The Cure)

Somewhere Over the Rainbow/Wonderful World – Iz (Judy Garland/Louis Armstrong)

The Scientist, Hallelujah and Help Me Make it Through the Night - Willie Nelson (Coldplay, Leonard Cohen, Kris Kristofferson)

Help Me Make it Through the Night  - Gladys Knight (Kris Kristofferson)

Walk On By – Seal (Dionne Warwick)

Love You Down – Me’shell Ndgeocello (INoJ)

Hurt – Johnny Cash (Nine Inch Nails)

Against All Odds – Postal Service (Phil Collins)

Spooky – Dusty Springfield (Classics Four)

I’ll be There – Mariah Carey and Trey Lorenz (The Jackson 5)

Rolling In the Deep – John Legend (Adele)

The Wish List

I have a running list of the things I really REALLY would like to do once I start pulling in some awesome 4 figure checks:

Haircut

I am starting to look a lot like this: 

Of course, I mean minus the perfectly symmetrical features, princess dress and romantic association with a man who has no genitals (ah, Ken). I just mean that my hair is out of control to the point where a small child could genuinely have hours of fun with it. My locs now tap that the “intimate” spot on my back where it is not okay to touch a woman unless you know her biblically (or would like to).  I do not want to get to the point where I can sit on it. I would love to get it cut but its not like my locs and I can go to supercuts and receive quality service.  One of the banes of having ethnic (albeit low maintenance) hair is that not everyone can wash, style and cut it.  Of course, I am in a multicultural mecca, so this means there ARE people who can cut my hair… for $100. If I thought I wouldn’t wind up looking like this: 

I would do it myself.  I am pretty sure I would massacre my own hair.  Therefore, the haircut will have to wait.

Dry Cleaning

As I have mentioned previously my mother is a very classy Southern lady.  She taught me a lot about clothing and has instilled in me a certain… appreciation of natural fibers. Silk, seersucker and linen in the summer.  Cashmere and wool in the fall and winter. Cotton year round.  Call it snobbery if you will but I have clothes from high school that I can still wear because they were well made...  As a result I have a pile of dry clean only clothes that have been accumulating since last summer.  I have been ignoring them (I don’t really need that gold lace D&G dress for another occasion that I know of) but I really need to round them up and drop them off at a reputable establishment.

Cobbler

I wear shoes into the ground. Literally.  Twice I have felt weird clicking sensations on my feet only to turn them over to expose the screw that used to hold a heel. I have a LOT of shoes. A dozen pair of cowboy boots alone but when since I have moved around quite a bit and have no idea where I may settle, most of them are at home in CT.  This means I wear the crap out of a few pairs of shoes I have with me.  I have at least three pairs that I really should stop wearing and drop off at the cobbler but that means $$$$$. This is yet another bullet point on my employment checklist.

New Sheets

Some people enjoy high thread count Egyptian cotton.  Or silky microfiber.  Not me.  I am but a humble attorney.  I like jersey sheets in the spring, summer and fall and flannel sheets in winter. Right now, my bed is sporting the cheapest sheets Marshalls had to offer.  They are substantially less “deluxe” than the label indicated.   I yearn for the day when my $40 and I can roll into Target and buy some sweet jersey sheets.  Its like sleeping on T shirts!

Frog

Beginning in college, I started to buy aquatic pets.  It started with a series of guppies (Mini Me, Minier Me, Miniest Me) and progressed into a series of frogs primarily named after members of the Red Hot Chili Peppers (Kiedis, Frusciante, Flea, Chad).  The last of my little croakers died in the care of my law school ex but I would love to acquire another cheap low maintenance aquatic pet.

See? I don’t want to fly to Seattle to have my favorite tartare (at Café Presse) or replace my beloved Hudson jeans that ripped right under the butt ((sniff)) or even get lasik.  I just want clean clothes, an underwater friend, not to end up peeing on my hair and sweet soft sheets. All reasonable.

Ordering Etiquette

I continue in my underemployment adventures (though the interviewing has picked up as of late - nibble nibbles, no bites.). 

Do you ever worry that the people providing service to you are judging you?  It is true. We are.  Here are some things I will judge you for as a barista and friendly neighborhood food service provider:

·      I work at a Southern bakery/cafe with heavy New Orleans influence.  This means thick cut smoky bacon, flaky buttery croissants, homemade mocha syrup composed of heavy whipping cream, bittersweet chocolate and decadent cocoa powder, a Muffalotta brimming with salami, mortadella, smoked ham, aged provolone and olive salad, sweet dough deep fried and smothered in powdered sugar... You get the picture. This is why it is asinine to ask the following:

o   “What do you have that is low fat or sugar free?”

This is one of those questions where I barely manage to cover the smirk as I deadpan “Nothing.” I guess people could get a salad (just leaves) with no dressing.  If someone wants seven subs for less than seven grams of fat each, Subway is a block north.

·      Large Breve drinks. Breve in this instance refers to an espresso beverage made with half and half. A large is 16 ounces.  Every time I have to aerate 14 ounces of half and half, my tummy hurts a little.

·      Speaking on your cell phone the entire time you order. Its exceptionally rude and I have to bite my tongue every time it occurs.  Thankfully, it is not a common occurrence.

·      Decaf. Soy. Anything. I’m sorry.  I know there are lactose intolerant people out there who can’t have caffeine.  Its just that from a taste standpoint, this gives me a sad. :(

·      Refusing to believe me when I say that we are out of something.  “But I see that person over there has some!”  This is when I take a few breaths and explain, “That person has x food item because they ordered it before you.”  It’s a simple matter of supply and timing.  I cannot produce what you desire out of thin air.  God, if I could create jambalaya out of thin air I would be a millionaire!! I would travel the nation making Creole delicacies on demand! At office parties! For weddings! I would also end up morbidly obese but no situation is win win.

·      Reading the menu for ten minutes while you stand in line waiting to order before appearing in front of smiling me and DITHERING for several minutes about what you want to order. I don’t mean taking the time to ask my opinion or soliciting advice, I mean this:

o   “Hmmm I think I will have the gumbo. Or maybe not, I am thinking of getting the chicken salad sandwich.  Can I get that without any chicken salad and sub in ham? No… okay what about the seasonal soup? Is it possible to pick the cooked onions out? No? Okay well then I will just have the muffalotta with no cheese or olive salad, no mortadella sub with turkey and can I get that on seven grain bread. No?  Fine, I will have a cup of gumbo and some tap water. “ 

Because I don’t want this to be solely about the things you can do wrong, here is what you can do correctly: Ordering perfectly.  Where I work, this is a perfect order.  I also imagine this will work in many places:

·      “Hello.  How are you?”

o   Yes, a greeting. An interest in my well being. Politeness.

·      “I would like a muffalotta, a side of potato salad, a sweet tea and a salty peanut butter cookie for here. Thank you.”

o   You have eliminated the need for me to ask several follow up questions (“Are you having that here with us”, “Would you like anything to drink?” and “Can we get anything else for you?”)  Its. Perfect. A thing of beauty.

A great order makes me happy every time. That and realizing that the person who is ordering from me is actually treating me like a human being.  Its the little things... 

The Unemployment Diet

As I have mentioned previously, while I struggle in the Seamus Heaney bog that is un/underemployment, I have lost weight.  I have stuck to a very particular formula that requires: 

*Longterm un/underemployment and the psychological challenges that go along with it

*Half marathon training

*Appropriate running gear

 Here’s the formula: 

1.     Sign up for a long race, preferably over 10KM, while you are still gainfully employed.  If you are especially optimistic about your future ability to obtain employment, sign up for a race in another country.  Hell, choose one with an unfavorable exchange rate, like nearly anywhere in Western Europe.  

2.     Become unemployed. Move across the country to a city that is walking friendly.  Make sure to save $1.70 in bus fare by walking ¾ of a mile to the grocery store with your LL Bean Backpack and several reusable grocery bags.  Load up on 10-20 pounds of groceries and walk home. 

3.     Get a program from your amazingly generous college coach, who has been designing programs for you gratis even ten years out of undergrad.  Follow this program as closely as you can and join several running groups to help you along. 

4.     Remain unemployed and become discouraged, stressed and depressed. Lose your appetite. Keep training. Seek out/make tasty things in an attempt to increase your appetite. Eat so that you can train. 

5.     Get a service job that requires 7-9 hours on your feet each shift and little time to eat. Snack on soup or granola when you get the chance.  Eat something ridiculously fatty after you finish your shift. Keep training.

6.     Get strep throat and be unable to tolerate swallowing anything but smoothies and chicken soup. Take off a week as instructed by your doctor. Lose several pounds of muscle.

7.     Get over the strep and rediscover your love of potato salad, especially when you make it with Zatarain's crab boil (Amazing y'all). Keep training. 

I wonder if I can patent this... Can you imagine the infomercial?

Five Happy Things!!

I've been such a negative Nelly (preferably Furtado over St. Louis) that today is a favorite things post.  So these are some of my absolute favorite commercials.

1. Nike, "If You Let Me Play Sports" 

I remember watching this when I was a young teen (13) and feeling down right empowered.  I played organized sports (track and field, cross country, softball, soccer and a disastrous attempt at basketball) from the age of seven until I was 21. I saw this commercial and thought "Okay, I am doing something right."

2. Volkswagen, "Singing In the Rain"

I have a friend from high school who has a very serious love of VWs and he introduced me to this cool little ad.  It never fails to bring a smile to my face.  The song by the way is a very cool remix by Mint Royale.

3. Gap, "Khaki Soul"

This is back when GAP not only had some pretty cool clothes (beyond basics, for a few years they had some really interesting designs) and *fantastic* ads featuring really cool music.

4. French Condoms

Hilarious? Check. Pragmatic? Check. 

5. Nike, "Good vs. Evil"

One of my favorite soccer commercials (there are a LOT of good soccer commercials).  I especially love the accent of the "Maybe they're friendly" guy and that bad ass collar flip at the end.

Its Just One of Those Days...

Remember that Monica song?  Very apropos for today.

Yesterday, I went on my first run in about two weeks and two miles in my knee started to hurt.  It didn't hurt immediately after the run but it hurt walking around after I iced it.  So, I have to take at least today off, probably the weekend/week when I have a half marathon in three weeks.  Fan. Tastic. Walking around gorgeous DC and watching other people run is like Kosher salt in an open wound; big flakes and jagged edges making the sting even worse.

To catch you up: 

1. The job situation.  Still stuck on Lake Pontchartrain with no end in sight! Still pressing buttons and tamping espresso part time. Fun fact: I earn a dollar an hour for every year of university I completed post high school. I have been thinking about getting a PhD, which would bump my earnings up to at least $13-$15 an hour at this rate. Also, people would have to call me doctor, always a plus. A doctor made that little heart in your macchiato!

2. Personal life.  What personal life?  Going out costs money and I have absolutely no interest in dating while the rest of my life is in shambles. I fully expect to end my days, alone, with my potbelly pig (if the city is zoned for livestock) or mutt (if it is not).  I would really like some reptiles but I saw an Animal Planet show once where a guy's lizards ATE him after he died at home. I should like to escape that fate, if at all possible. Bottom line: I would rather be in perfect half marathon shape than engaged to Joseph Gordon Levitt.  This brings us to...

3. Running. Ah, the physical release.  The thing that keeps me sane.  I had to take off a week because, though I am not a toddler, I somehow caught strep.  I hadn't had strep in a few decades so thought it was just a sore throat.  Oh its not.  I had a fever, shakes, dizziness, nausea, body aches, heart palpitations and a throat so sore I had to brace myself every time I swallowed.  Then, I go out for my first post strep run and fuck up my knee somehow.

Seriously, the universe can have 2/3.  I can handle being underemployed, single and increasingly anti-social if I can at least put one foot in front of the other as a means of therapy. The Universe is not allowed to have all three.  It just seems against the rules of fair play.

What's next? Is my library card going to get revoked? That card is to me what a handgun was to Charlton Heston...they'll have to pry it from my cold dead hands.

Ugh.

Seacrest Out!

I'm a terrible blogger....

Sorry for the long lapse between posts!  I've been busy and unmotivated, a fatal combination.

Some updates on the long term, legal employment front:

There are no real updates on the long term, legal employment front :/. 

Some updates on the interviewing front: 

I had a screening interview for a national immigrants' rights NGO for a DACA fellowship position. It would have been a lot of training and outreach on a topic I know...little about.  Nonetheless,  I was pleased to be one of the 17 people culled from the initial pack of 120 people.  I find it downright humorous that the positions I seem to get interviews for involve topics I am not especially familiar with (family law, DACA) whereas the jobs I seem to be perfect for (immigration and human rights law, research positions) barely acknowledge receipt of my applications.

Some updates on non-legal employment:

I'm still at the coffee shop/eatery and if nothing else it gives me a reason to get up and so something useful 3-4 times a week. Its interesting because My background keeps coming to the forefront.  The other day a customer remarked that I must be "college educated."  Alums from my college/Boston area schools come in and we have little chats.  There is one baby lawyer (ie law student) who comes in and we chat.  I see the absolute fear in his eyes and can practically hear him thinking "Ohmigod, is this going to be my future" when we talk.  I'd be flat out lying if I didn't say that sometimes I look around the bakery and think, "Is this it?  Is this all I can aspire to do 9 years of university and 250K later?" Maybe.

On the other hand, a (really really cute) customer who comes in and works for the DOL took me to lunch today and gave me all sorts of useful resume hints. He told me all about his own unemployment struggles, which actually helped to put me at ease.  So, the bakery is not without its networking benefits :)

In addition to the barista-ing, I began the process of applying to substitute teach in DC public schools in... January (when I sent off my fingerprints to the FBI).  A few weeks ago, I had a group interview where we had pretend we were teaching a class as part of a group interview.  The next day DC Public Schools extended an invite for me to attend orientation!  Right after I get a drug test and a TB test.  That's another few weeks of scheduling etc.  By the time all of this is over, those kids are going to be out of school. 

 I apologize for not being witty and interesting today, I promise there will be more of that in the future!  I'm still trying to find balance in my schedule.

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