I Wanna Get Better

So.

full disclosure.

I’ve been struggling with unemployment for the past few months.

At first, it started out as a massive kick to the face. Dear God, here I am, 29 (at the time) earning my way through the complex digital world, meeting people, networking, not truly understanding the power I wield but I’m paying my bills on time and contributing the the toxic sludge that is the internet.

so paid

so paid

After a few days, it turned into a mini vacation. I was still meeting people for chats, consulting on best practices, sleeping in a bit, hanging out with people. It was like seeing the world for the first time in awhile. Obligations were gone for a moment.

but forever

After about a month, it became a debilitating, soul crushing experience. Waking up early to stare off at the job listings screen, wondering why anyone wasn’t returning my calls or emails then forcing myself to eat breakfast then go to the gym to clear my head.

srsly

After two months, my birthday.

I’m now 30 years old.

I can’t celebrate anything really. I have a party of sorts. I get a little drunk but it’s that kind of drunk where you want your feelings to drown so you can float to the surface, embracing clarity and say you’ll never do that again knowing damn well you’re going to do it.

It all feels like a surreal nightmare where I’ve been dropped into a Fincher movie; all muted hyper colors and textures and there’s an alternate version of me walking around, successfully. Okay so I may have described the plot to Fight Club but it’s the same idea really. There is another version of me, improving, living, thriving.

I am Jack’s complete disillusionment

 

I figure, while I’m booking random gigs, for which I am grateful, I would just try to live a little bit. I try going out early in the day, New York in the summer is my favorite type but I find myself getting up early to go to the gym, be upset, get rejection letters, going home, showering and sitting in my bedroom, AC barely on watching Netflix.

You do a lot of soul searching and personal assessing when something like this happens. As it happens, I’ve been coping with a separation, so it was basically a mega shitshow hurricando mega force suckfest. You start picking things apart, putting the pieces into boxes to really get a big picture and see what happened. I didn’t lose my job due to performance, just the economics of the business. Like a survivor on Lost or Gilligan’s Island, I pick through the debris and see what I can salvage. Turns out I’m more a Gilligan than a Professor. Mercifully, the relationship is still sort of salvageable, but that’s a whole other entry. OR several. Stiff upper lip, I work through it.

I go to a lot of bar events.

I don’t tan.

I’ve dyed my hair at least four times already.

By August I book a gig working the U. S. Open (I dye my hair an acceptable color) The job feels like summer camp really.

When I close out this job, I make the note to spend more time in a gym because there is nothing on Serena Williams’ body that jiggles. THE BOOTY REAL.

actually watched this match. it was intense

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I make money, meet people, pass around my business card and discuss business opportunities but the entire time, I find that I’m struggling with just what is that I am offering? What is that I do?

I continue checking my email, sending my resume out, collecting rejection letters, random messages for gigs and the occasional offer to enlarge my penis. As if my problems aren’t enough, my phantom dick is small. fuck my life.

I go to New York Comic Con.

IMG_0372

where I sat in the same room as Edward Norton and Michael Keaton

I work a Thanksgiving Day commercial for one day, setting up office in a home gym in a house with a price tag that makes me weep.

I work a lot of odd jobs.

I work.

What am I doing?!

I’ve become a drone, mindlessly filling out job application after application, hoping to at least land a gig that caters to my skill set. I apply for retail jobs, knowing full well they are the very textbook definition of temporary and I fear repeating the vicious cycle that the last six years have been. (As me about it some time, I’ll tell you all about it. Preferably over drinks.)  I wind up doing more writing and land a few pieces on Vh-1 which fuels me to find my niche and again I’m dumbfounded.

I’ve never done a career assessment. Ever.

In college, I was always in the career office looking at job postings, figuring I can do that, that sounds easy enough. I never sat with anyone to discuss my skills and interests. I never figured out what it was thatI could do and then was completely baffled as to why I had been passed for the position. I still never went to see anyone about it, figuring it was because I hadn’t had a proper resume to begin with. How many times as a college student were you passed on a job because you didn’t have a job before? (I’ve been working since the age of fourteen)

After that, I just dove head first into everything that I could, figuring something would stick in my wheelhouse. I worked in A&R, I worked as a camera operator, post production assistant, I was a copywriter, I was a delivery girl (woman!), I ran social media for various entities. I did it all, I did too much, I wanted to do more. I’d bitched about everything going on, as is the right of all working people in a capitalist society doing what they can to survive.

I have a resume with various skills but none of that experience tallied into a single marketable skill; there is no singular thing that I can define as my ability. (Swearing doesn’t count, sadly) I have a fairly succinct resume, divided between all my media work and then my production work into two fairly respectable entities, never mind the jobs in between all of that. Looking at them side by side, I feel like I’ve been a million different people from one day to the next and none of us can agree on just who we are professionally; we just want to collect the credit, the experience, file it and see where it takes us. (forget the hot mess that I am on a personal level.)

Just what the fuck is it that I do?

Like I said. I’ve never done a career assessment. I’ve had professional friends work with me on molding and shaping who I am, or at least guiding me in the direction to which is best suited to my abilities. We all agreed that I am a Swiss Army Knife. Adaptable to situations, capable, smart, stylish. Pocket sized.

I should pick a better selfie

I tried to do it myself.

What I’ve figured out so far is that I write a lot, (ramble coherently mostly), enjoy comic books, movies, I have pretty gay tendencies, I like animals, movies, off-color humor, drinking and swearing.

Basically I’m a Puerto Rican Judd Apatow character.

(if he was y’know a little more diverse in his writing)

I struggle with anxiety and I learned that when I speak to people, I have to memorize a script so that I can avoid mumbling something incoherent. (Fun fact! I was a theater kid for most of my life but my decision to get tattoos and dye my hair often tanked it.) I started getting more in depth with researching things, reading deeper into some articles. I wrote down ideas and tried testing them out on this blog. I tried dressing better too; apparently t-shirt and jeans is not standard grown lady apparel. I did not receive that notice. Studies indicate that doing little things to improve one’s appearance can increase their confidence and outwardly influence people they meet and thusly line your pockets with money. (vicious cycle)

Now armed with this newfound knowledge, I send out my resume, cover letter and articles to various publications in the hope that one of these strange traits will land me something somewhat resembling an opportunity but I still feel fake. I work and tweak the details, polish myself up, sell sell sell. I curb my social media habits, especially if I’m using them to market myself. I can’t have my moody music posts deterring people from considering me. (we’ve all posted Coldplay songs, shut up) Even with all of this, I feel off.

There’s a nagging feeling at the back of my head. Something I keep missing and I know it.

I’ve always wanted to be a writer.

I didn’t list that as something I’m fully capable of doing.

me editing this mess

When I was employed full time, all I did was write on the side, the phantom ideas taking up my headspace while working on sheets, deadlines and deliveries. When I lost my job, I broke out all my notebooks, pouring over them, pulling them apart for deeper ideas and I started working on them. It felt much like looking through a yearbook when you’ve completely failed at everything. You want to find the place it went wrong and pick up from there, with fresh arms and legs to carry it.  I broke out a fresh notebook, Post It’s tucked into margins with plot points I had to remember and things I need to remember with world building. I started working on them all the time, hoping that maybe all the experience I’d collected would just pour out in the next great American novel because so far, my luck has been terrible. What’s the worst that could happen, really?

The one thing that’s kept me sane has been writing. My reading has declined substantially despite my growing book hoarding habits (thanks Strand!)  and article perusing while job hunting but my writing, my writing has continued. My last article for Vh-1, the controversial Mariah Carey’s All I Want For Christmas Is You May Be Christmas’ Greatest Song. Ever, landed me my first blockbuster article share (including a RT from Mariah’s team) and first brush with “U R A RETARD GO FUK URSELF MARIAH SUX” hate mail in the comments section. I’ve placed six with them and am trying to work on a full time reccurring segment of sorts but haven’t found the right hook as of yet. Truthfully, I haven’t been able to match that just yet; it’s the Thriller article of my young writing career. I’m working on Bad but fear that all anyone will ever want is Thriller. The fact is, I’m writing, so, that’s a good thing.

So.

Let’s recap.

I lost my job.

I worked a lot of other jobs.

I’m still looking for a job.

I will talk about work with you. Over drinks. Or not. Whatever.

Here’s what I do:

  1. I write
  2. I direct
  3. I produce
  4. I create
  5. I take pictures of random animals that I find in the street and fight the urge to bring them home with me because I’m unemployed and can’t afford that kind of lifestyle right now.
  6. I offer tech support in emerging technologies
  7. I tell dick joks
  8. I can manage YouTube, Tumblr, Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Vine accounts. With some bilingual flair.
  9. I am a strange brand indeed but you won’t be bored.
  10. I’m the invisiblecircus

Let’s see where it goes because I want to be a better me.

Scandal Premiere Live Watch

Sandy sunny beaches

a shameless shot of the upcoming book to movie Gone Girl

Olivia and Jake banging on the beach.

He’s all hairy and beard and I’m like….ayeeeeee

They’re making a dude deliver their shit like it’s Fresh Direct but for two people avoiding responsibilities the way we fantasize about that.

They’re in Zanzibar.

I DIDN’T THINK IT WAS REAL BUT IT’S REAL AND IT’S REAL.

Scandal is opening with an episode of Lost…its like AU Fanfiction gone wild.

OMG. Harrison was found. He’s dead and there go my dreams of handsome Harrison in suspenders.

They’re back, tan and rested in Washington, Jake promising they’re only here for a few days, in and out…like their sex session on the beach. Get It? SEX JOKE!

Olivia er Julia Baker is wandering the once former Pope offices which is a great stand in for creepy lofts and gardens.

OH FUCKING A IT’S QUINN.

She’s babbling about the red wine Olivia problem and the Fresh Delivery thing.

I WANT THE SHOW WHERE HUCK IS A GEEK SQUAD REP AT BEST BUY.

Grant is on the ill rage while whatsername is running the show. Ginger is running hard on this.

Mellie is in full blown college dropout mode. I LOVE HER.

Mellie is living la vida no fucks given in the worst fuck life pj set from Target.

HOLY FUCK IT’S PORTIA DE ROSI AND SHE’S GOT THE BIGGEST FUCKING LESBIAN HAIRCUT IT’S SO BIG AND FILLED WITH SECRETS.

Ok, So. Quinn in her all black long hair don’t care outfit is kinda doing something for me but fuck her cos she’s being a tit.

Abby has her reading glasses on, snapping away at Olivia because that’s what needs to be getting done.

All fights should be in the middle of Washington in full hearing of people who probably were like, the fuck these women fighting about? I love how Olivia did the epic hair spin.

Quinn, go home.

 

COMMERCIAL BREAK: COME UP FOR AIR KIDS.

This show is amazing at getting characters to sound like human dictionaries, dropping lines like crazy.

DADDY POPE!!

Olivia knows wine the way we know mix tapes or movie lines. Terrible. I need more class.

Joe Morton is a miracle.

Fitz and Poppa Pope took out Momma Pope and you wonder why she’s so messed up…but you know he didn’t.

Cyrus is knew about the Olivia visit and he’s mad he wasn’t included in the ‘hey girl hey’ kiki party. He does’ want her anywhere NEAR the White House.

“Mellie is washing her hair.” I’m done. I’m done because I so much want to see if Mellie has a tumblr.

They’re having a deep discussion about the correct casket for Columbus Short’s career. I mean, Harrison.

Oh yes, mystery knocks and phones. Someone is needing not Olivia Pope’s help and as it turns out, someone’s dead. She sent an intern to do that.

Olivia has a job again, yay!

COMMERCIAL BREAK

Here’s where we read all the hilarious Twitter commentary and wonder why none of us are in the same room at the same time.

Cy out here trying to buy people’s loyalty.

HOLY SHIT IT’S NAN FLANAGAN TRUBIES ENJOY!

Olivia ding dong ditched 911.

Huck being a super militant on his Best Buy Geek Squad policy. Olivia throwing the new iPhone 6 around…I am Randy the Smart Guy. She broke Huck, WHO IS GOING TO FIX HUCK?!

We’re in the cemetery with Mellie and Fitz. Mellie is wearing her favorite Uggs and big fluffy robe and I really just want to know what her Tumblr handle is.

COMMERCIAL BREAK

Jake isn’t interested in talking about a dead old dude, he wants to talk about the sexing and the what nots.

She just monologued during the sex Jake was wanting. What a boner killing experience. I hope he’s got something he can fap to, blue balls can kill a man.

Jake is still rambling dirty pillow talk about riding and touching and now he’s gonna go check out Pornhub and finish Jake Time.

Ok so Seriously, QUINN I HAVE MIXED EMOTIONS ABOUT YOU RIGHT NOW.

Cyrus needs someone to distract him, he’s so rumpled and sad and messy.

Oh of COURSE Fitz is asking for Olivia. Mellie is basically a character in Girl Interrupted but we’re just gonna pretend that they’re not going to be doing anything for the rest of the season.

The Senator Vaughn is fucking up her own SVU episode.

Olivia read the Senator and is gonna go update her FB status: BITCHES GOTSTA LEARN.

Quinn just said she’s finna go undercover and bust the creepy ring of creeps happening since she happens to look just like the girls who the dead Senator Sterling happened to be  a fan of.

Olivia asked the intern for  her phone, called Quinn, saw the intern called Vaughn and just like that, we have 15 minutes to solve the mystery of whether she’s going to stay in DC or not. SHIT.

COMMERCIAL BREAK

David and Abby putting their heads together about how she works for the Death Star while he’s being a creepy secret keeper. They both have weird code names: he’s Milhouse she’s Red. He has color coded files for how creepy people are. Guess what color Abby is. Red. CREEP.

Everyone is just reading everyone this episode. How does anyone remember their lines on this show.

Vaughn sold out brown eyed brown haired girls for his creepy sexual problems and Olivia wisely walks away, fresh out of fucks. That’s what you need. She’s at Harrison’s funeral and shockingly, no one else is there. Nope, here’s Quinn, all black errythang with Jake lurking in the back being weird.

OH cool, we get Harrison’s backstory over his coffin which is y’know how I like to talk about people, when they’re dead and can’t say nothing.

Nothing like a funeral to bring the family back together.

Sorry Columbus about your career n all. 

Oh good, Poppa Pope sitting there in a creepy car finding all the things out and driving off in the most not obvious car ever.

It looks a lot like you’re going to stay in DC for a little while longer Jolivia. Sorry.

 

COMMERCIAL BREAK

Mellie is planning dramatic suicide jumps from the balcony.

I think she’s having a martini at 10 am. I want one and it’s 10pm.

Fitz why did you even say anything about Olivia being back? What is wrong with you you doofus? You and your messed up wife are just working out well with each other.

I’m really a fan of fuck you and this shit Mellie. She just told Fitz, that when he sees Olivia she’s going to be put on notice. She’s not about his sexy thing either. SHE JUST TOLD HIM SHE DOESNT EVEN WAX OR MAINTAIN THE BASEMENT. IT’S 1976 DOWN THERE. Mellie, let’s just be friends, let’s hate everyone together.

Jake is getting all fed up talking about dead people when he’s been trying to get his dick wet.

David was officially nominated as attorney general and Lizzie, er Portia, and her big hair aren’t happy about it at all.

Oh and Olivia is staying, she’s also going back to the office and getting her team back together because that’s what we’re here for.

Olivia is telling you to own that shit, you the real MVP.

She’s crossed paths with Fitz and of course it’s slowmo and they almost touch pinkies which as we all know, is the universal sign for, I WANNA TOUCH YOU N KISS YOU AND LOVE YOU.

They don’t.

And we’re in for a long season.