The Prophesy of Sharon Atkins

I always thought the receptionist was the dumb broad at the front desk taking phone messages. Now that I'm one, I've changed my opinion. She had to be special, right? Because I thought I was special... Now, I come up with other names for what I do, like "Front Desk Coordinator" or, my favorite, "Director of First Impressions."

Sophomore year of High School, during my acting career, our theater ensemble produced Steven Schwartz's musical "Working" based on the interviews in Studs Terkel's book of the same name. The character I played was a receptionist named Sharon Atkins, and my monologue included those lines.

My new job is almost fulfilling the prophesy that I might live to see a day like Sharon's, and my goodness, am I glad it's a temporary job. I know I'm destined for more than this.

Eurovizija! I know her! I know her!

It's been a while since I last posted about Eurovision, since it has not been on my radar quite like it was when I was living in Vilnius, and InCulto was competing. The past two years have not gone unnoticed in my life, though, considering a friend of mine, Greta Smidt, is actually competing to be Lithuania's contestant!

My favorite picture of Greta and me (with Giedre in between) from this winter at a shooting range during Lithuanian Student New Year's camp. She got close up and personal with a kalashnikov; I could barely handle the pistol.

This talented and courageous lady was my tent-mate at Lithuanian scout camp eons ago, back when she was probably eleven years old. Now, she's fighting with the best of them to be a European pop star and bring Lithuania fame, while not hurting her own resume.

I can't say I'm a huge fan of the style she uses, but her voice is actually quite lovely. I share here a video of her entry song, "The One," that her mom snapped last night "in secret" when she was practicing it acoustically, although, if I know Greta, I'm not so sure she didn't set it up. Either way, her voice is a force to be reckoned with, and I want to give her some love as she follows her dream. Sekmes!

When fUNEMPLOYMENT becomes FUNemployment

After about six weeks of serious job-hunting and a few desperation-soaked moments of not knowing what I'm going to do with my life, I have, at last, become employed. Although it is temporary employment, it is still something that I'm pretty excited about.

The journey to Fibble (the pseudonym I will use for the company on this blog) was a fairly short one that began two weeks ago. I got a call on Tuesday morning from a woman at a staffing agency who had found my resume on monster.com (yes, I was that desperate). She told me about a position at a CPA firm for two months during tax season, and I told her it sounded great, so we scheduled an appointment for the following day for me to meet her at the staffing office and get to know who I am. When I arrived on Wednesday, the office was bare-boned and sterile. A woman, far too tan for winter, chatted with me in a room outfitted with only two chairs and a small round table for about ten minutes, and sent me on my way. She told me that the CPA firm that I had been called in for was likely to pick a candidate today, so I was out of the running for that job. Fortunately, she was able to set me up with another interview the next day, which, although it went well, fell through, and I finished the week the same way I had started it.

Luckily, the following Monday I got a call back from the staffers telling me that the CPA firm didn't end up hiring anybody! I went in for an interview on Tuesday and they loved me, and I started working here, after some negotiations, on Thursday.

I've now been at Fibble for three days, and, although I don't want to be a receptionist forever, I am having some fun with a 9-5 pretending to be Pam from the Office. The firm's name is ridiculous, and most of my bosses don't know what to do with me, because I am too efficient for them. I was told in my interview that I would eventually be taught how to file and enter data for the partners, but I was ultimately taught to do these things on day two! I file, print labels, scan mail, sign for packages, enter data, and, most importantly, answer the phone. For a temporary job, I'm glad I'm here, and it gives me something to do while I keep on playing the waiting game.

Drinkify Me, Cap'n

Last fall, the Spotify phenomenon struck my circle of friends, and everybody was excited beyond belief to have most of the world of music at their fingertips. I registered, but was mostly too overwhelmed by the vast collection of tunes to use it consistently. In any case, although the program was great, when it became a real service that we had to pay for, many people dropped it.

However, when drinkify appeared on my newsfeed, I got very excited. Not that it's a program or service, mind you. For the most part, it is nothing more than a humorous device that we, the music-and-alcohol-loving-twenty-something population, can play around with.

After sitting around listening to the Avett Brothers on Friday night with Giedre and Ben drinking Blue Moon and Magic Hat, I thought I should share the Avett Brothers' drinkify entry, to show that we were quite mistaken in our refreshment choice.

It does not suggest new music, like spotify or genius or pandora might. Instead, it recommends the drinks that we should be drinking while listening to them, suggesting that we shouldn't listen to any artist "alone," but rather, in the company of a certain beverage.

The drinks range from simple beer and wine to cough syrup and rum garnished with shrimp. These propositions suggest that we shouldn't at all take the site seriously, instead we should just enjoy what we, the twenty-somethings, enjoy best: music and good times.

Cheers!

All eyes on...

Oh man. Just when I thought Valentine's Day might the sappiest day ever on earth, Giedre sent me these beautiful cards via facebook.

Let's talk about how Ben Kling makes the best Valentines ever. 

1. They are pink and squishy like Valentines should be. By squishy I mean fluffy and girly, obviously.
2. They are historical. All of them (there are something like three sets of six... so... eighteenish? I didn't count them) are based on historic figures of importance or philosophers. For that reason, I feel like I've studied most of them in the past year. These cards make their philosophies come to life.
3. They are PUNNY and WITTY and SARCASTIC. Oh goodness, how I love puns and wit and sarcasm. Or do I?
4. The illustrations are just so darn charming! 
5. The artist's name is Ben, which is one of my favorite names. But that's really more of a footnote than anything else.

I now have another blog to follow! Thanks, Ben!

Happy Valentine's Day, again!

#QuoteAboutLove

Yesterday, very much enjoying unemployment (although hopefully not for long, more on that later), I accompanied my mother to a CAbi / Valentine-Card-making party. Unfortunately for my mother, the party was more focused on Valentine-making than CAbi-ing. Fortunately for me, it was a great opportunity for letting my creativity flow and making Valentines.

 

Thanks to Mamyte for helping with the lighting on these photographs, and for eating chocolate and drinking two-buck Chuck with me.

There is no reason for me to love Valentine's Day. Romance is just not in the cards these days. However, I do love taking the opportunity to smile extra hard for the Starbucks barista or the CVS clerk when I get the chance. If you find one of these cards in your mailbox soon, it means I love you.

as you wish

I had barely turned the corner and was ready to cross the road when, all of a sudden, I stumbled. I remember shouting some expletives and shaking my ankle out before I decided I could keep going, running a total of about two miles.

Short term regrets, as recent as last night, have left me lying in bed with my foot wrapped and nestled on a pillow with a bag of ice cubes. That little falter and my stubborn desire to keep running has left me stranded in an indefinite (although I can't imagine it will be that long) period of crippledom.

Some pictures from the past week: The Charles River, me and Robert Gates (Former Secretary of Defense under both Bush and Obama and William and Mary's Chancellor as of last Friday), Third Eye Blind at Kaplan Arena (the opening act was Ben Kweller, who was also awesome), and my new Julia Child book, along with The Princess Bride, which I got from Lokys for Christmas. 

Otherwise, this week has been great. I returned from some great adventures in Florida and Virginia on Monday to some new potential temporary job prospects and interviews, some work at the BYMCU including a small but satisfying paycheck, and lots of studying for the foreign service exam, which I took on Friday. I got home on Friday to a package from Mociute, containing a copy of Julia Child's menu cookbook, after having watched "Julie & Julia" with her last week during my visit with her. Looking back over the past ten days, they really have been quite awesome, except for this dreadful ankle situation.

Relaxing in Florida

This is a short creative non-fiction piece I've written based on the few days I spent in Florida last week.

Settling into the solar powered hot tub in the screened in patio at my grandparents’ house, it didn’t take long for the conversation to start. Tropical beverage in hand, it was only six weeks since my winter graduation from the university, and already I thirsted for a sunny Floridian vacation from the mediocre Bostonian winter, the shame of living at home, and the squalor of contemporary unemployment.

At the same time, Florida doesn’t always lift the spirits like I expect it to. I was lucky, the sun was shining, the sand was hot, and the waves were weak, yet my skin was pale from six months of studying under the fluorescent lights of the library, finishing my degree, and unprepared for the lower latitude height of the noon sun. One hour of beach time was long enough for my skin to feel the burn, and I kept a bottle of 30 SPF at hand in order to avoid several weeks of lobster face.

Early February, however, is not the time for vacations. Beaches are either empty, or teeming with new Floridian retirees, who are not yet jaded by the number one pastime, browning in the sun. The roads are nearly as dangerous as Boston in a blizzard, due to the fact that the average age of a Florida driver is around 75 years. The first time I saw a male figure within five years of my age, I lowered my sunglasses in an attempt to make eye contact, hoping that our eyes might meet and ignite our mutual understanding that this particular island is not quite the hot-spot that Miami is; rather, it is a resort for the cheap, who can always find a bed and favor with elderly family members. Failing to make this eye contact, I resigned myself to the fact that this vacation was an exercise in isolationism and a meditation on the future that lay before me, like a desert or an ocean or a box of chocolates.

Stirred together, my skin, my thoughts, the conversation and the rum, in the hot tub, it took little coaxing to evoke my grandparents’ stories. I hardly knew where it began.

“You know, Vida,” her sister, “says she doesn’t remember anything about Lietuva,” she said, “but I remember everything!”

She remembers the first time she saw a steam engine, when she was but two years old, and the massive fear she felt, fear twice as big as the train itself.

She remembers the orange, rolling across the ground of the market in Germany, and the American soldiers, who had enough exotic fruit to last their own needs, that they could throw it to the curious children.

She remembers the planes spitting bullets in the graveyard, where there was no place to hide on the walk between the camp and the village. It could have ended there.

Luckily it didn’t.

No Smoking?

Having spent the past week jet-setting down and up the east coast, I have some fun and interesting updates for you all. Unfortunately, time is limited now, so I will leave you with a thought to chew on.

I flew U.S. Airways to get to Florida and Williamsburg this past week. Each leg of the trip was broken up by a layover in Philadelphia, meaning that I took off and landed six times over the course of eight days. On five out of those six flights, there were no "No Smoking" signs on the overhead consoles above the seats. Instead, there were "turn off electronic devices" signs. I'm not sure if the shift has come from people wising up and no longer having the need to smoke on 1-hour-long flights, or from people (like Alec Baldwin, am I right?) being so stupid that they can't imagine turning off their phones for flights of varying lengths or ipods and kindles for a matter of fifteen minutes. It's cool how a little light bulb can signify the importance of our addictions.

write what you know



There are many things that I am unsure of right now. My future. My plans. Where I want to be. What I want to do.

What I am sure of, is that I love my family and I love the sun. I love the smell of sunscreen and the sound of waves rolling up against the shore.

So, although I don't know what I'm doing in the long-term, the short term is good enough for me right now.

"I'm nostalgic about conversations I had yesterday."

When I was younger, in middle school and early in high school, I was intent on pursuing a career in acting, whether in film or on stage. This passion led to a love of film and theater, and films were incredibly more accessible than theater, which is why every year I tried to catch every Oscar nominee. Since then, I've obviously strayed from that calling, yet the profound affect that films can have on me remains.

Oddly enough, my favorite films of the past few years have been thematically related, but not to my own life. The top three at the moment at "The Darjeeling Limited" (Wes Anderson 2007), "The Brothers Bloom" (Rian Johnson 2008) and "Kicking and Screaming" (Noah Baumbach 1995). I will not bore you with synopses of the films, but will tell you that the common themes are brotherhood and accepting adulthood. Additionally, the three directors are somewhat related and have been involved in each other's projects, which can almost be inferred from the films' styles.

"Kicking and Screaming" was a film that I first saw the summer after my freshman year of college, at a time when I had trouble connecting to the characters. Upon returning it to the library I, for all intents and purposes, forgot about it. The film follows four immature yet close friends in the first semester following their graduation from college. Although there is no evident rising and falling action in the film, the characters change in earnest during this variable period of their lives.

The DVD jacket. If you know me, you might imagine why I picked it up off the shelf in the first place.

This was not something I realized the first time I watched the film. However, during the past two weeks, I've watched the film twice, struck by the profound similarity of the characters' lives to my own life right now. The film presented me, a recent college graduate, with a glimpse of post-college life in the mid-nineties, and the way these friends relied on each other, while dealing with their own individual struggles. While strangely similar to my own life, the differences, such as the fact that the characters were mostly immature men (brotherhood for the win!), and in the "historic" milieu of the 1990s, separated me enough to not scare me to death.

My appreciation for the film finds its roots in my recognition that my life is simultaneously very similar and very different from these peoples'. The reason for that is the obvious, age-old fact that the transition to the real world is not an easy one, and that the main support system for this transition comes not from my own ability to do things, but my ability to trust and rely on others, while moving forward and knowing what I want.

Grover and Jane. They are adorable.

I guess I can say that this film is, in fact, thematically related to my life, just not because of the brotherhood aspect. Revisiting this film was a great decision on my part, and I hope that I can take some of its guidance to heart, as I continue moving in the general direction of the real world.

winter words (what is my life?)

I'm itching to tell you all something interesting about my life, but, although I feel that plenty interesting is happening, none of it takes the form of a blog post or written word. Instead, I wordle-fied an e-mail that I sent, summarizing my life for a friend, yesterday. It's a bit overwhelming, but such is my life right now.

Story in the Second Person

Driving home the other night I decided to write a short story in the second person. It turned out much shorter than planned, yet it still captures the concept of the story I was trying to write. Creative writing takes time, and now that I have time, I just need to do it! 

You are, at this moment, beginning to write the story that you meant to write months ago. Rather, it is the story that you've been writing in your head every minute of every day for months, or even years. You are sitting in that charming cafe, at which works the cute barista, and are seated in a large chair that looks more comfortable than it actually is. Your laptop is open, you have a medium dirty chai on the table, and you are ready to write. You begin

writing a story that you've been meaning to write for months. Alas, the words of the story are unclear, mostly because you have neglected to plan sufficiently for the story at hand. You wonder if the story was meant to be a short story, or a novel. Maybe it was meant to be a poem, or just an article. You realize that if it is too short, it would probably be worth only a blog post. A short blog post on a blog that you have been writing on fairly religiously for nearly three years, yet only a select few people take the time to read. Yet, even if the story was meant to be only a short story, the story is what you have been writing

for months. When you begin to write the story, you imagine yourself as the main character. Conflict emerges before your character-version of yourself even appears on the page. You are forced to ask the question, is this character me? Or is it the ideal version of me? Or is it the version of me who I hope not to become? I have always been told to write what I know, but is it best to write what I know I am or what I know I do or do not want to be? If I write an auto-biography, it is what I know, but who will want to read about me, and my dull life? The auto-biography will be about what I imagine people think of me, rather than actually about me. At this moment, you realize that your autobiography would consist of the story of you sitting in the charming cafe with the cute barista.

The ideal version of you would stand, approach the barista, and say something witty and attractive. You would flash a smile and his heart would melt. As you order your dirty chai, he would smile in spite of himself, and make some witty crack about how none of the cute girls normally order such an intense drink, most of them don't know what it is. When he asks what milk you prefer, he admires that you don't answer skim, rather, two percent. Taste is everything. The story about the ideal you writes itself. It is the story of you doing everything that you are too afraid to do, in a fantasy world that is remarkably similar to a host of your favorite films. The ideal you would saunter back to your comfy chair in the charming cafe, as the cute barista looks on, and you would sit down to write the most brilliant short story ever, inspired by the barista's admiration, and the zest of the dirty chai.

Yet that story is not written of what you know, but rather what you wish were true. Sitting in the less-than-comfortable chair, you watch as the cute barista fails to smile at any of the customers; which you imagine is because he is working at a cafe for just over minimum wage. You turn back to your laptop and your dirty chai with skim milk, and begin to write another short story, that ultimately becomes just another blog post.

Doctor Zhivago

After a long journey of reading this book, I have finally finished it. While I let it settle in my soul, but before I put it back on the shelf, I wanted to share my three favorite quotations.

"I don't like purely philosophical works. I think a little philosophy should be added to life and art by way of seasoning, but to make it one's specialty seems to me as strange as eating nothing but horseradish."


"You must never, under any circumstances, despair. To hope and to act, these are our duties in misfortune. To do nothing and to despair is to neglect our duty."


"You and I are like Adam and Eve, the first two people on earth who at the beginning of the world had nothing to cover themselves with - and now at the end of it we are just as naked and homeless. And you and I are the last remembrance of all that immeasurable greatness which has been created in the world in all the thousands of years between them and us, and it is in memory of all those vanished marvels that we live and love and weep and cling to one another."


Thank you, Boris Pasternak. 

2011 In Review

This is a project I've been working on for the past week or so. It's just a smattering of awesome things from 2011 to review the amazing things that the year contained for me. Click to enjoy a legible size.

Here's to 2012!