…when you please.

Ry:

If you didn’t know already, this blog is named after a Cole Porter tune from the show “Can-Can.”  I’d like to be able to claim that this was a song I had grown up listening to as a child.  I’d like to be able to say that in my attempts to find the perfect title for a blog about my mid twenties, I searched through the depths of my childhood to discover this brilliant, deep and extremely appropriate title.  For we all know how important a title is.

The truth is, I had never heard this song until I started to write this blog.  Turns out it is just as relevant as I had hoped it would be.  The song sounds like something between an anthem and a march (if you can separate the two).  It is very silly and very ironic.  I have supplied the lyrics below, if you are able to, I would suggest finding the song on the internets and have a listen.

Never, Never be an Artist

Some think an artist’s life could never be sad
Some think an artist’s life could only be bad.
When people ask about la vie de boheme,
What do we, what do we say to them?

REFRAIN
Never, never be an artist
If you think you can make one cent.
Never, never be an artist
If you’ve no one to pay your rent.
Never, never be an artist
If you like roast beef called “prime.”
Never, never be an artist
Unless you want to have a marvelous time,
Unless you want to have a marvelous time.

PATTER
You can think what you please,
You can state what you please,
You can like what you please,
You can hate what you please,
You can taste what you please,
You can try what you please,
You can do ev’rything but buy what you please.
You can date what you please,
You can please what you please,
You can charm what you please,
You can tease what you please,
You can land what you please,
You can trick what you please,
You can give to or get from a chick what you please.

REFRAIN 2
Never, never be an artist
If you think you can make one cent.
Never, never be an artist
If you’ve no one to pay your rent.
Never, never be an artist
If a pauper’s grave you fear.
Never, never be an artist
Unless you want to have a happy career,
Unless you want to have a happy career.

You can wake when you please,
You can sleep when you please,
You can laugh when you please,
You can weep when you please,
You can laze when you please
Or be spray when you please,
You can do ev’rything but die when you please.
You can wash when you please,
You can shave when you please,
Be discreet when you please,
Misbehave when you please,
You can flirt when you please,
Take a chance when you please
You can put on or take off your pants when you please.

REFRAIN 3
Never, never be an artist
If you think you can make one cent.
Never, never be an artist
If you’ve no one to pay your rent.
Never, never be an artist
If you’re faithful to your wife.
Never, never be an artist
Unless you want to have a wonderful life,
Unless you want to have a wonderful life,
Unless you want to have a wonderful life,
Unless you want to have a wonderful life,
Unless you want to have a wonderful life,
Unless you want to have a wonderful life,
Wonderful life.

 

Be frugal, don’t multiply

ry:

I had planned for this blog post to tell yet another story of failure to get a job.  It was going to be long and rant-like, and would possibly make one wonder if, beyond a bad recession, I might just be unlucky.  But I have decided against it.

This morning I got out of bed pretty happy. I woke up feeling incredibly more healed from my cold then I have ever felt four days into a sickness.  I got up and started the morning the same way I start every morning I wake up before Kim – traveling the internets.  After a brief bout with Facebook and my email, I moved to the various blogs/ news websites I try to frequent.  After reading and listening to different opinions about the reason behind Obama’s trip to China and the continually struggling state of our economy, I moved to finding some more lighthearted news (to be honest with you, I was looking for something about the Large Hadron Collider which, if I’m not mistaken, was supposed to be turned on this weekend).  Unfortunately, I got side tracked by opinion articles about radical conservative leaders, specifically Glenn Beck and Sarah Palin.  What I learned is that Glenn Beck, after having his appendix removed, is apparently starting another revolution, and that Sarah Palin has just released a new book.  While the former is a manipulative, greedy, fear-mongering douche-bag with everything BUT the United States of America’s best interest in mind, the latter is the only person I have seen that has managed to, very apparently, strike fear in Jon Stewart.  So, any attempts to find more light hearted material in the news seemed to have been quashed.  However, a little later I ran across an article on the New York Times website which discussed Robin Williams’s comedy, post open-heart surgery.  According to the article, the past three years have not been the best of his life.  Upon further reading, I read a line that sparked a reminder of a lesson I have been taught before and will no doubt have to learn again.  This from the New York Times:

[Robin Williams] has become more introspective and more grateful for what he has. (“You appreciate little things,” he said, “like walks on the beach with a defibrillator.”)

Oh my, he is a funny man.  But this got me thinking. what do I have?  And better yet, what have I learned?

I decided recently that I do want to go back to school and get my M.A. in music performance (I’m fairly certain it is performance I want, but time might turn my interests towards composition).  I have also decided that I don’t want to do this now.  Besides how liberating it has been to study singing without any outside pressures, I feel I am learning skills now that can’t be taught.

A while back, in a conversation with someone whom I owe a lot to, I was given the option that perhaps getting out of college and going into a recession gave me a little bit of an advantage over those who have been in the work place for years.  Now, completely recognizing that the one thing that is hurting me most in my attempt to get work is my lack of experience in the work place, this person still made a very interesting point.  He told me that I was in a unique position in which I could mold my life based not on what I had expected, but what I already had.  He explained that people who were comfortable with a certain wage had created a life of certain expectations from that wage (i.e. vacations, certain amount of spending money etc.).  But those who have lost their jobs are not only struggling to find work, they are also needing to adjust their lifestyle based on a lower income (in some cases, not all).  I imagine this would be a very hard thing to do, and with a family, I imagine it is near impossible.  For myself, having not much, I am in a position where I can form my happiness on very little spending.  I find more appreciation for creativity, craft and art.  I blog more, or rather, I try to blog more.  My ability to be frugal with my money is a very good lesson to be mastering.  Kim and I have learned to love vegetables we couldn’t stand before, although the beet is still a struggle for me.  We have also made them last a lot longer.  The other side is my appreciation for the other things when they do come.  A night out at the movies is a real treat these days, as is a Sunday morning pastry and coffee from your local baker.  This has been something Kim and I have had to learn, and support from our families has allowed it, but it has been a remarkable and very useful thing to learn.

We certainly want things, that’s not the point.  We would still love to travel but we are being patient.  Being in our twenties, I think we have both been dealing (in our own way) with this feeling that if we don’t make something of our lives in the next couple of years, then nothing will ever come of it.  Of course this is bullshit, but so much of life has been paddling against a current of bullshit only to realize that maybe life isn’t that mean and perhaps it does want you to succeed.

So, I plan to continue the hard lessons I am learning.  Instead of a rant about the hardships of job finding, I look to see what good has come of it.  Interviews, cover letters, resumés, these things all seem significantly less daunting then they were before.  I look forward to what other lessons lie ahead of me.  While I may not be as funny as Robin Williams, he is right, you do appreciate the little things, even if you are toting a defibrillator.

 

Job, tiny children, and the J-line

Kim:

1. I am tentatively excited about the prospect of having a job at a really lovely community-oriented used bookstore.  I interviewed about a month ago with the owner, who subsequently left town for three weeks (during which I moped and then forgot about it). She finally called Tuesday to ask if i wanted to come in the next day to ‘try out a shift’–heaven knows what that means, but it definitely sounded more encouraging than sinister.  One of the most exciting things about the store : although it carries all kinds, the store really specializes in kid’s books; I’ve been so excited about (hopefully one day) illustrating children’s books recently, and I love the idea of working in close proximity with such a huge stash of them. Also, the people and the neighborhood are wonderful.

I did few hours of training and a few hours of shelving, and tried to ask as many questions as I could think of. A good part of the day was spent dodging 10 or 15 very adorable toddlers; three days a week, the bookshop holds a children’s story hour, in which a variety of local ankle-biters–probably between 3 and 5 years old– arrive at the  bookstore with their parents for a reading of a children’s book. Most of the kids remained quietly absorbed in listening to the storyteller, but every now and then a little wayward child would become distracted and start to wander the store; one or two of the smaller kids wandered over near where I was shelving to investigate and make little bashful faces at me before being scooped up and carried back to storytime.  It was really ridiculously cute.

BUT  I’m going to refrain from writing more about this job until I know I’m not counting my chickens prematurely. Fingers crossed!

2. I’m unabashedly excited about the prospect of riding the J-Church line a few times a week to get to said bookshop.  Most of San Francisco’s Muni trains run down the centers of city streets; the J travels for the most part along its own gorgeous route cut into the hillsides of the Mission and Noe Valley districts. It’s a bit of a walk to get to the train from the store, but I’d spend the commute home looking out from high-up hillsides at really breathtaking views of San Franciso.  The J is also amazing because it travels through a few jungle-looking paths hidden behind residential backyards and at the edges of city parks. A few times on the way home the tracks would suddenly dip down into a secluded, shady path overflowing with leaves and vines with huge flowers whose seeds I imagine blew into the area from surrounding gardens in the Mission; I think most of my favorite parts of the city are the little oases of green that have been neglected and re-colonized by native plants (pictures hopefully to come). Anyway, it helped that this was all close to sunset and the air outside was clear, crisp and freezing cold. Lots of red-nosed people in big coats scarves and boots.  November is a nice month.

San Francisco is a nice city.

 

I have a real job now! – I convince homeless people to join the army.

So, certain things have developed – and for the first time, it has nothing to do with my hormones.  I got an internship at the San Francisco Jewish Film Festival and a job babysitting triplet 12 year old boys.  While I heard about both of these positions in October, they both started the first week of November.  Here’s how they came about.

I saw an ad for the internship with the film festival (which will henceforth be called the SFJFF) on craigslist and sent them my cover letter/ resumé.  While this is a non-paying internship, I figured I would go for it with the interest of getting work experience with a non-profit that was interested in film.  I went in for an interview, it took half an hour, everyone was very pleasant and seemed interested in the potential to hire me.  I left, had lunch with Kim and her father, then played the waiting game.

In the meantime I managed to get hired for this nanny position.  There isn’t much to tell on this front, a friend of mine called me and said that he knew a family that needed some help in the afternoons.  Okay, I said.  Ah, if only all jobs came that easy.

So, later, the SFJFF emailed me and told me that they would like me to come on Wednesday at 11 to start an internship that would bleed between marketing, administration, operations and programming.  Great!  I responded that I could come in on Wednesday.  This was on Friday.  I started to get very worried about (of all the things) what I should wear.  In desperation, and with the hopes of easing my nerves, I emailed them back and asked what appropriate attire would be.  I didn’t hear anything until Tuesday.  One of the employees called and we talked about a schedule and what would be good garb to wander around the office in.  In response to the latter inquiry, the response was spats.  Spats!  The shoes! Everyone is required to wear spats, he tells me.  When he told me this, my gut clenched, I thought he was serious, and worse, I didn’t remember what spats were!  Damnit!  I know what spats are, but I didn’t in that moment.  Then it hit me, I’ve seen Some Like it Hot! Spats!  Upon remembering I offered a delayed laugh over the phone – aw jeez Ryland, how are we already awkward.  The employee was very friendly and proceeded to explain that the office considered business casual to be their most formal.  Relief struck and I awaited Wednesday’s beginning.

Not much happened Wednesday.  The SFJFF was throwing a goodbye party and everyone was pretty distracted.  I did however start my nanny job.  I went over to the house and while it did take a little while to get the kids warmed up to idea that they would be hanging out with a complete stranger, it turned out to be a lot of fun.  The hardest part of the job was dealing with the 15 year old labrador that clunked around the house.  He’s an excited old timer and awfully stubborn on walks.

On Thursday, at the SFJFF, I started sorting through archives of programs and various other documents that were stuffed in a storage room.  It was interesting to see scripts for movies that were premiered at the SFJFF in the 80′s.  I ran a across a script for a Meredith Monk movie about the medieval age, it was very interesting and Monk-ey.  After spending some time in the storage room I went back to the main office and was given a couple of other tasks that would be considered “longer projects”.  I’m really looking forward to continuing this internship and seeing what other avenues in putting together a film festival I can explore.

So this was the work finding in October.  I’m still looking for more “paying” work, because apparently that’s important.  There is also some question as to whether or not I actually was hired as an usher for Cirque du Soleil.

Tune in later to find out.

 

…

Corporate Porpoise.

more to come…

 

Yip!

Ry:

Hey, so I got a job!  I think.  I interviewed for one of the positions with Cirque du Soleil, I was hoping to be an usher.  The event is from November to January, so while it doesn’t offer much security, it’s a job nonetheless.  My group interview at the temp agency today consisted of a very energetic interviewer, and two other interviewees (beside myself): one extremely friendly ex-convict and a lady who kept repeating “I am no longer chemically dependent.”  I was asked to introduce myself, then fill out a form.  Shortly thereafter, we were told what the hours expected of us would be, then the interview was over, almost.  The interviewer asked if I would stay for “that thing we talked about that you would do when I emailed you, you know?” (it was all a clever ruse which I imagine no one saw past) and the other two were dismissed being told that they would hear from someone soon.  I was told to wait in the room and the other two left.  So I waited.

And waited.  Turns out the interviewer had forgotten me.  I suspected that he might have, but he told me to wait and I was being obedient.  Very apologetically, he came back and asked me to go to a computer in which I was to input myself into their payroll system.  Obediently I started to fill out my information, but I didn’t even know if I had the job.  I could only imagine that being asked to stay and fill out more forms was a good sign, but I still didn’t know if I was being hired.  I asked.

” Yes,” was the response I got, “we want to move forward with you.”

“For what position?” (there were a couple open)

“Which one did you want?”

“Um, I was interested in ushering.”

“Sure. Yeah.”

“Okay, thanks.

I finished the form and shook the interviewer’s hand.

“I’ll call you November 2nd.”

Why?, I thought.  The event doesn’t start until the 26th of November.  Oh well, I’ll find out.  So I left, fairly certain I got a job as an usher for Cirque du Soleil.  So if you go see the circus, perhaps I’ll be there.

 

It’s a robot. Ash is a god damn robot.

Ry:

So I got another interview.  I talked to a very friendly man from a temp agency earlier today.  I am interviewing for one of many (everything from dishwasher to VIP attendant) open positions for a Cirque du Soleil event happening between November and December.  I am hoping for a position as an usher.

On another note, last night I continued the journey of Tintin and the Captain.  Its most recent addition is rather crude, and my ability to create the proper lighting and hold a camera still (let alone work with quake hold – more on that to come) is an ability that I am in need of perfecting, or at least improving.  Forgive it its amateur status, enjoy it for what it is, and wish me luck at my interview.

By the way, Kim was kind enough to color the other character in these pieces.  Before she did, it just looked like a white blob.

 

it said it didn’t want a title

Ry:

The other day I got a phone call.  My phone had run out of batteries so it went straight to my messages.  I checked my messages shortly after my battery was recharged.  I had a little trouble understanding one of them.

“Hello this is ghidf dfisdjfoei and I read your resumé chrhg call me my number is (415) …(the number was clear).”

At this point I knew that she was either German or French and that she was calling about my resumé.  I was interested so I repeated it a couple of times and revealed a little more.

“Hello this is Marie chgrgg asdjisa I read your resumé and I wish you would call me, my number is (415)…”

I still wasn’t understanding what I was sure was a crucial part of this message and I still didn’t understand what the job was (I have sent out a lot of resumés and I still haven’t derived a method of tracking which resumés are which).  I repeated the first part over and over again and still didn’t get who was calling me or why she was calling me.  I decided it would be best if I just called the number and see what happened.

ring…

“Hi my name is Ry and I am calling to talk to Marie.  I sent you my resumé.”

“Yes  hello, this is Marie dshgf safhkhdfs (again I missed it).   Could you come in for an interview tomorrow?” (her accent was very thick)

“Yes, I’m sorry where are you calling from?”

“I do not understand what you are saying.”

This went on for a while and neither of us were understanding anything we were saying, but we did set up an interview and through the address she gave me I was able to track down what job I was interviewing for.  The address was a home, but regardless I came to realize that it was an operations manager position for a classical music artist management company (run out of her home).  So I understood where I was applying and I had a very vague overview of what the position was but I really didn’t know what the position really entailed.  Oh well, I would find out tomorrow.

The morning of I got up early and went through my wardrobe to find appropriate interviewing garb.  I thought through it a bit and then decided that I might be better off finding out who this person I was interviewing with was and what this company was about.  Go Internet.  I found the company’s website and then managed to track down an article that was written about Marie.  Turns out she is a well off Viennese woman who has a love of the classical arts.  It was explained that she seemed to have led a rather extraordinary life working with successful European classical musicians and more recently, American classical musicians.

Amidst this article the writer managed to throw in that this woman was in her eighties (no specific age was given).  I then realized that the article was written in 1997.  So I really was not sure what I was getting myself into and there seemed to be really good chance that whomever I was going to interview might be a bit old.  I spent the next half hour talking to a friend of my family’s, who happens to be an HR person, about how best to conduct myself during the interview.  This was by far one of the best talks I have ever had with regards to how to act during an interview.  I got off the phone, had a quick breakfast, jumped in the shower, got dressed and jumped in the car.  Kim came along because the area in which we were going had a very pretty beach which I suggested she might wander.  She liked the idea and so she came along.  It was really nice to have her with me.  It’s nice to have a loving person who can be there to support you, especially if it’s Kim.

We got to the place about fifteen minutes early and I sat in the car with Kim while she did her best to calm me down.  Three minutes before noon I got out of my car and walked up to the front door of a rather large home.  I rang the door bell and waited.  I stood in front of the large blue door and a good amount of timed passed.  I knocked…nothing.  I rang the doorbell again and finally the door opened.  A very lovely, older, Asian lady answered the door in a way that immediately threw me off.

“Or you’re back, come on in.”

I stepped through the front door and before I could inquire and/or correct the nice lady she took off to go get Marie.  I was called into the back room where an office from the seventies was located.  Wooden panels on the wall and yellow-ish carpeting were the two biggest give aways.  I sat in a chair and waited some more.  I was then called into another room with yet another office (remember this was all located in a rather large home) where a lady, who was as old as I have ever seen, was sitting in a chair waiting for me.  She said “You are…” and began to rustle through some papers which were on her desk.  Before I could answer (I was a little shy about jumping in) she put together what my name was and where her copy of my resumé lay under a large pile of papers on her desk.  The interview started:

“Hello, could you please tell me your previous work experience?”

“Um yes, well my last job was with A Cappella Records.”

“This was at the Opera House?” (remember the accent)

“No, this was actually an online business.  We managed a cappella music and…”

“At the Opera House?” (remember the age)

“No, we were managing a cappella artists and selling their music through an online medium.”

“And this was at the Opera House?” (Christ, she really wanted me to talk about opera)

“No, actually I worked as an opera manager while I was a student at UC Santa Cruz.” ( I thought it would be best to adhere to her opera talking needs)

“Where?”

“At UC Santa Cruz.”

Confused look.

“The University of California Santa Cruz, it’s where I went to college.”

“And you worked at the Opera House?”

“No, I was working as an opera manager, making copies, setting up rehearsals, setting up schedules…”(I actually managed to get into my job description…a little)

“But what about your work with the Opera House?”

“I actually have never worked with an Opera House.  I was doing some artist management with A Cappella records and I was working in a management position while at UC Santa Cruz.”

“Okay, well I will be frank with you.  I had a lady come in yesterday and she was perfect so I am going to go with her, so goodbye.”

Jesus Christ!  Legs swiped from underneath me I stood up, said thank you (I don’t know why) and walked out of the house.  I felt like shit.  What the hell just happened?  And what did it tell me about myself?  Should I have fought her? I wasn’t in there for more then five minutes.  I got out to my car only to realize that it was empty, Kim had taken her walk.  I didn’t want anything in my pockets during my interview so I left my keys, phone and wallet with Kim.  So there I was, alone with no way to contact the one person I wanted to reach so I could get out of there.  I walked down the street a bit and looked out onto the ocean, the car was still in sight.  I loosened my tie and thought.  I was ashamed of myself, but I didn’t know why.  I felt depressed, but I really felt I had no reason to be.  I thought I wasn’t being treated well, but maybe I blew it?  Maybe this didn’t work out because I wasn’t good enough at selling myself, or was this different?  She made a very quick decision about me, but I wasn’t sure why.  All I know is that it sucked.  It sucked a lot.  I looked towards my car to see that Kim, god bless her, was heading back to the car.  She had luckily taken a very quick walk and we were able to go home.

I’m still working through this.  I think I was dealt an unlucky card and I don’t think this is a reflection of me or my abilities.  I’m still certain that it sucked, but that’s about it.  Kim did make me feel much better, but this hasn’t made the work finding much better.  Ah well, move forward and laugh.  Seems to be the best thing to do.

 

Do you have any trees you aren’t using or should I go outside to get more rosemary?

Ry:

Here’s some of what my Saturday brought:

 

ry is up to something.

Kim:

An elaborate and mysterious installation is happening in the corner of our kitchen; it involves t-shirts, Tintin, and about a bushel of rosemary, which is masquerading as a pine forest. Ry is all about the projects, the more imaginative the better; he seems to have quite an extraordinary wellspring of creativity.

I on the other hand have somehow constrained all of my artistic pursuits to a sort of found cookbook that is spreading slowly across the cabinets above our stove. I have an enormous stash of torn-out magazine pages that i’ve been collecting probably since high school, pictures mostly of patterns and textures… every time we discover a new recipe I’ve been pulling out a new sheet and writing the recipe on it with a micro-pigment pen. it’s more readily accessible than a bound volume of recipes, and it’s starting to look good, like a sprawling mosaic of colors and letters. every now and then ry stands in front of the stove, looks at the pages, and says “I want this to be EVERYWHERE!”, throwing his arms out theatrically. again with the projects–he’s immensely easy to wrangle into any minutely creative idea I have. No matter how tiny or stupid the idea might seem, he’s totally game to try it, and usually he ends up even more excited about it than I am.

I like one of the recipes in particular–Ry and I were at a restaurant near the park that had a really gorgeous passionflower-covered back patio, and we both ordered a drink that turned out to be incredible. We told the waitress how much we liked it, and when she eventually came back with the bill, she also handed us a handwritten recipe for the drink. I was so impressed that she’d actually taken the time to write it out for us let alone share the recipe at all–adjusting to san francisco post-santa cruz & looking for employment has been exhausting, and so many people have been utterly unwilling to help that, now and then, the city can seem forbidding, impersonal and cold.  But only now and then. Ry wrote about how heartwarming he found the craigslist-poptart event; here is my equivalent.

In a tall glass, over ice:

2 squeezed limes

1 tablespoon blueberries

splash simple syrup

splash lemon

ginger ale

…Hopefully the aforementioned restaurant won’t bust me for posting on the internet?