Wednesday, June 29, 2005

humble pie

I've been back in New York City for almost a month now, and I have yet to earn a penny. Given my psychological history and the reality of my financial situation, I should be a lot more depressed than I currently am.

Last night, shortly after my employment analysis, I found myself wide awake around 3 a.m. I checked the New York Times TV listings and, while encouraged that Dr. Phil received a star for "recommended series," I was discouraged to see that there were no Blind Date, Elimidate, or Cheaters-type programs to be found. There was, however, Sister Wendy: American Collection on PBS.

I had a minor obsession with Sister Wendy in high school and had since forgotten her. For the uninitiated, she is an elderly South African/Scottish nun with an inspirational appreciation for the visual arts. I grew up Catholic and had relatives in the nun business, and Sister Wendy, with her amazing buck teeth, weird accent, and inability to pronounce the letter "R" is truly something special. In her analysis of varied works of art, she directs the viewer to intricacies that in a casual museum breeze-through one would never see, and she describes her emotional reactions to each piece in compelling detail.

Between Sister Wendy, the subsequent program about Robert Frost's necessary stint as a farmer, and the Science Times blurb about a 100-MILLION-YEAR-OLD daddy long legs preserved in a piece of amber, I embraced Dr. Phil's advice to GET THE FUCK OVER YOURSELF. Though it might not feel like it right now, the fact that I am even agonizing over how to pursue a fulfilling career is a luxury, and being able to have thousands of dollars of credit card debt is something that 99.99% of earthly beings are never afforded. Because, of course, if the Somalians could wear Marc by Marc Jacobs the world woudld be a better place.


Kyle said...

This comment is actually in response to your last post, about the jobs...I just wanted to share some of my similarly traumatizing experiences...

started out as a paper girl...lots of houses didnt recieve their papers(the dog ate it, shovel your driveway, i bet its buried under there somewhere)...cuz who wants to get up at five in the morning and lug around an 50 lb bag?

next up babysitter-remarkably similar experience to yours, lots of couches, sleeping...once involved a little boy falling off a trampoline during some of this couch sleeping...woops, leave it at that.

first "real job"...Save Big Money At Menards...need I say more...

First college job-a tour guide of my school. And seeing as how my school is full of rich tan blonde girls with boob jobs that do loads of drugs, when some poor soul came along with a thirst for knowledge, and a lack of long legs and less than a C cup, i reccomended them elsewhere...only in an effort to have mercy on their souls and save their self esteem from sever damage when they eventually realize (as I did, as we all do at UT) that they were one of aproximately 10 girls on campus weighing over 115lbs and needed to go on a starvation diet. needless to say, that was not in my job description. "Oh, right boss, seriously? I'm supposed to convince them that they WANT to come here? I never knew!"

More jobs follow, I tired of writing, but I just thought I'd share some of my experiences with you so you don't feel so alone, bad jobs happen to good people. or maybe there are just certain good people who just arent good at having jobs. you and i may be among that group.

Take care!

bobby said...

Dear Gina,

I recently found your blog and am enjoying it. I hope you continue to post your exploits on dating and job hunting. I know from my own experience that one can greatly affect the other.

I have more to tell you but I'm late for work.

Keep up the good fight.


Gina said...

kyle - that campus tour guide story is hilarious. and i'm embracing your good people who aren't good at having jobs description. i like that better than anything i could come up with.

bob - thanks! hopefully something will happen soon. anything really. i don't want to have to resort to starbucks (though they do have employee benefits...)

Fat Asian Baby said...

OMary claims she made pretty decent tips at Starbucks. Perhaps you could move to Atlanta, I hear Whitman's ex works at the Starbucks in Midtown. You guys could be like BFF.