Sunday, October 28, 2007
get out of the car! get! out!
I finished watching the entire first series of "Damages" on FX. A waste of time. I don't normally watch lawyery type shows because I have trouble following them. I was attracted to this one because its in New York City and it has Glenn Close in it and I liked the theme song/opening credits. That's about all I liked about it though-- lots of flashbacks and a confusing narrative thats more trouble than its worth.
I do want to be Glenn Close marching around in pantsuits, being very abrupt. Bluish gray lighting. Making billion dollar settlements with a smirk.
I'll probably watch next season.
My bipolar is acting up. They need to make some sort of cream or spray. Just spray the room down when the bipolar starts stinking up the room. I feel like bipolar is the new "neurotic." Just some blanket term to cover an enormous variety of symptoms that may or may not be connected. I mean I don't think these psychiatrists have any idea what the hell they are doing and all of us crazies are just paying for vacations to wherever psychiatrists vacation. I say get out of the car! Get! Out! I've been around the block several times. Several times. I know how this works and its a losing game.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Lady Bunny
I just want to give a shout out to Lady Bunny for somehow finding the most hilarious videos on the net. Bookmark her site!!!
Here's some beautiful Bulgarians singing "Oh Susanna!" Makes me want to cry.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Such a delight!
If the trumpeting isn't enough, you have to wait for the dance sequences. Stacy Hedger reminds me it's good to be alive.
Saturday, October 06, 2007
we're going with another candidate
My interview at Borders did not go well. I have never been good at job interviews. My therapist and I once worked on differentiating between a job interview and therapy. I tend to act the same in both situations.
I really wanted to work at Borders again. I had a fantasy of just zoning out and making perfect OCD stacks of books. I love helping customers find just the right book or cd, never giving up until the mission was accomplished. I remembered how good I was and how much I enjoyed it, I was so excited.
I got to the interview ten minutes early as recommended by my work program teacher in high school (one of the other recommendations was not to smoke, even if the interviewer asked you if you wanted a cigarette, can you imagine). A bald "operations manager" directed me to sit in the cafe and wait for someone to come down and get me. I waited for a half hour. Finally a lady came down and started yelling "Jeremy, Jeremy, Jeremy..." in the bookstore, not the cafe. I had to go out and follow her call to find her.
We waited for an elevator together. She didn't say anything until she cracked her neck real loud, "I've been waiting all day to do that." Charmed! We walked into the backroom past the employee breakroom full of employees flopped all over a table staring at me with blank expressions to my still hopeful shy smile.
Into a room where we were met by a squat woman with homemade tattoos on both arms. Ah, Borders! Good to be back. So edgy with your helpful workers with soul patches and body jewelry. The asexual pierced boys and goth girls who fit happily into such a strange corporate groove. I'm not bitter.
I sat between the two women as they began their questioning. Maybe I've been watching too much "Damages" but I felt like I was giving a deposition. They went through a list of questions that all started with, "Tell me about a specific time when..." My mind started racing, I knew I couldn't come up with specific times when I was helping a difficult customer or had a disagreement with a manager or whatever. My memory is so fuzzy, I don't catalog things like that in my head. I gave general answers, good general answers-- I actually surprised myself. But ohhh how they wanted specifics, "Can you tell me about a specific time when that happened?" I considered making things up but I'm not good at that. Well, I'm good when it doesn't have to make sense. "Once there was a turtle that came in and he was looking for a book on sewing and he was real mad because he had a broken leg so I suggested we go swimming together but first we decided to go to Arby's..." I can do that.
Anyway, they were not happy with me and I just got frustrated to the point that I was like-- "Ahhh NO! We already established that I can't remember specific times!! Let's move on ladies!!!"
It's been a rough few months. A rough half of a year since I landed back in Illinois from dreamy California. I don't know if its my anti-anxiety meds but that seems so far away and hazy. Who was that person driving around in a black Kia on Hollywood Boulevard? Such a mystery to me. I've become so fixated on that person who could get up at 6:30 in the Los Angeles sunshine everyday and do things. Writing funny 30 Rock scripts like it was no big deal. So fascinating from this perspective- a considerably less sunny place.
I received a friendly voicemail yesterday informing me that they went with another candidate but my resume will be kept on file.
I really wanted to work at Borders again. I had a fantasy of just zoning out and making perfect OCD stacks of books. I love helping customers find just the right book or cd, never giving up until the mission was accomplished. I remembered how good I was and how much I enjoyed it, I was so excited.
I got to the interview ten minutes early as recommended by my work program teacher in high school (one of the other recommendations was not to smoke, even if the interviewer asked you if you wanted a cigarette, can you imagine). A bald "operations manager" directed me to sit in the cafe and wait for someone to come down and get me. I waited for a half hour. Finally a lady came down and started yelling "Jeremy, Jeremy, Jeremy..." in the bookstore, not the cafe. I had to go out and follow her call to find her.
We waited for an elevator together. She didn't say anything until she cracked her neck real loud, "I've been waiting all day to do that." Charmed! We walked into the backroom past the employee breakroom full of employees flopped all over a table staring at me with blank expressions to my still hopeful shy smile.
Into a room where we were met by a squat woman with homemade tattoos on both arms. Ah, Borders! Good to be back. So edgy with your helpful workers with soul patches and body jewelry. The asexual pierced boys and goth girls who fit happily into such a strange corporate groove. I'm not bitter.
I sat between the two women as they began their questioning. Maybe I've been watching too much "Damages" but I felt like I was giving a deposition. They went through a list of questions that all started with, "Tell me about a specific time when..." My mind started racing, I knew I couldn't come up with specific times when I was helping a difficult customer or had a disagreement with a manager or whatever. My memory is so fuzzy, I don't catalog things like that in my head. I gave general answers, good general answers-- I actually surprised myself. But ohhh how they wanted specifics, "Can you tell me about a specific time when that happened?" I considered making things up but I'm not good at that. Well, I'm good when it doesn't have to make sense. "Once there was a turtle that came in and he was looking for a book on sewing and he was real mad because he had a broken leg so I suggested we go swimming together but first we decided to go to Arby's..." I can do that.
Anyway, they were not happy with me and I just got frustrated to the point that I was like-- "Ahhh NO! We already established that I can't remember specific times!! Let's move on ladies!!!"
It's been a rough few months. A rough half of a year since I landed back in Illinois from dreamy California. I don't know if its my anti-anxiety meds but that seems so far away and hazy. Who was that person driving around in a black Kia on Hollywood Boulevard? Such a mystery to me. I've become so fixated on that person who could get up at 6:30 in the Los Angeles sunshine everyday and do things. Writing funny 30 Rock scripts like it was no big deal. So fascinating from this perspective- a considerably less sunny place.
I received a friendly voicemail yesterday informing me that they went with another candidate but my resume will be kept on file.
Tuesday, October 02, 2007
benny lava
From LadyBunny's blog-- my source for a lot of crazy videos- an Indian video with someone's attempt at deciphering what the lyrics are. I actually really like this song.
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