Holiday redux
By my watch (the watch of a dutiful and observant Roman Catholic for all but the last, oh, four years) we're only halfway through the holiday season--that blissfully limbo-esque week between Christmas and New Years. Nevertheless, I feel a holiday update is in order, since much has (and has not) happened.
I'm still unemployed. Surprise! But I did apply to a job today. I had planned to put in for a bunch (this one, this one, this one, this one and maybe even this one) but I only got around to the anonymous literary agency because, well, I had lots of Seinfeld DVDs to watch. There's always an extra mystique when the name of a company is absent from the job listing. Ever the idealist, I usually imagine some major name hiding behind the veil of anonymity. I probably should have learned my lesson with the last unnamed company I applied to: The infamous "writing job" for a "Pre-Law Yalie or Recent Grad." I never really found out what the job was. I think it had something to do with SAT prep, based on the domain name (800score.com) of the sender of the only email I received from them. I sent two emails a day for a week until I finally got a response telling me that "We have already a very high qualified person for the position." Maybe they were hiring for that guy's job. Hopefully over the next two days I'll cowboy up and send a few more apps out. I still stand by my January 31 deadline. (Eek.)
The "Kong" war of words is finally over. That situation had actually been weighing kind of heavily on me for a few days. It wasn't that I minded that someone vehemently disagreed with my opinion of Peter Jackson. I've fought that fight before. What got to me was that someone seemed to have spent at least a little time reading and thinking about things that I'd written and had some very critical (and, in my mind, cruel) things to say in response. I'm thin-skinned to begin with (a fact which unemployment has only compounded), and I've been away from the searing intellectual frying pan of college for six months. So it was a major trauma when I was suddenly forced to confront that fact that all this stuff that I write (which is one of very few things that I've found fulfilling lately) is vulerable to attack. I have a better understanding of dm's rules of engagement now, and I appreciate his point of view. I might have tempered the vitriol a bit, but that's just me. It was a reality check--an important one--to be put on the defense for a while.
In other news, it turns out that NPR hasn't yet started interviewing candidates for the editorial assistant position at Weekend All Things Considered. So there's still a possibility that I'll be...considered. I hope my belligerent emails aren't going to count against me. I swear, someday email will be my downfall.
Let me close with an indelible holiday memory:
It's December of 2003. The high school gang is at Corinne's for Hannukah Party version 7.0. Latkes are sizzling in pans of oil on the stove as apron-clad Dr. M lovingly tends to them. Most of the guests are clustered in the dining room taking stock of the various latke condiments: apple sauce, sour cream, cranberry chutney. Drinks are offered. Some ask for lemonade, which pours thickly (?) from a paper carton. Mike takes a skeptical sip, only half-knowing that something is amiss. Kate's eyebrows are furrowed as she looks down into her cup. Carina is polite and takes several long swigs of the unusual lemonade, which she assumes is a customary Jewish drink. After a few moments, Corinne comes to a startling realization: she gasps and says "Oh my God! That's the cooking oil!"
Ah, the miracle of Hannukah.
I'm still unemployed. Surprise! But I did apply to a job today. I had planned to put in for a bunch (this one, this one, this one, this one and maybe even this one) but I only got around to the anonymous literary agency because, well, I had lots of Seinfeld DVDs to watch. There's always an extra mystique when the name of a company is absent from the job listing. Ever the idealist, I usually imagine some major name hiding behind the veil of anonymity. I probably should have learned my lesson with the last unnamed company I applied to: The infamous "writing job" for a "Pre-Law Yalie or Recent Grad." I never really found out what the job was. I think it had something to do with SAT prep, based on the domain name (800score.com) of the sender of the only email I received from them. I sent two emails a day for a week until I finally got a response telling me that "We have already a very high qualified person for the position." Maybe they were hiring for that guy's job. Hopefully over the next two days I'll cowboy up and send a few more apps out. I still stand by my January 31 deadline. (Eek.)
The "Kong" war of words is finally over. That situation had actually been weighing kind of heavily on me for a few days. It wasn't that I minded that someone vehemently disagreed with my opinion of Peter Jackson. I've fought that fight before. What got to me was that someone seemed to have spent at least a little time reading and thinking about things that I'd written and had some very critical (and, in my mind, cruel) things to say in response. I'm thin-skinned to begin with (a fact which unemployment has only compounded), and I've been away from the searing intellectual frying pan of college for six months. So it was a major trauma when I was suddenly forced to confront that fact that all this stuff that I write (which is one of very few things that I've found fulfilling lately) is vulerable to attack. I have a better understanding of dm's rules of engagement now, and I appreciate his point of view. I might have tempered the vitriol a bit, but that's just me. It was a reality check--an important one--to be put on the defense for a while.
In other news, it turns out that NPR hasn't yet started interviewing candidates for the editorial assistant position at Weekend All Things Considered. So there's still a possibility that I'll be...considered. I hope my belligerent emails aren't going to count against me. I swear, someday email will be my downfall.
Let me close with an indelible holiday memory:
It's December of 2003. The high school gang is at Corinne's for Hannukah Party version 7.0. Latkes are sizzling in pans of oil on the stove as apron-clad Dr. M lovingly tends to them. Most of the guests are clustered in the dining room taking stock of the various latke condiments: apple sauce, sour cream, cranberry chutney. Drinks are offered. Some ask for lemonade, which pours thickly (?) from a paper carton. Mike takes a skeptical sip, only half-knowing that something is amiss. Kate's eyebrows are furrowed as she looks down into her cup. Carina is polite and takes several long swigs of the unusual lemonade, which she assumes is a customary Jewish drink. After a few moments, Corinne comes to a startling realization: she gasps and says "Oh my God! That's the cooking oil!"
Ah, the miracle of Hannukah.
posted by temporarily unemployed at 19:32
1 Comments:
ah yes, the annual retelling cemented for all eternity in cyberspace! at least now i know exactly how many swigs of oil carina will take for me in the name of friendship. can't say the same for the rest of you!
~C
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