Adventures In Unemployment

September Edition

Realize that the guy who comes to mow the lawn on Wednesdays is here on a Tuesday.
Everything makes much more sense.

Think about writing a Young Adult novel about lesbian mermaids.

Realize that it would just be the plot of The Little Mermaid.

Realize that there are no new plots, anyway, so there. Lesbian mermaid and human princess.

Realize that mermaids may not recognize differences in human sexuality and all mermaids could be pansexual. Or asexual. Or fish-sexual.

Realize book idea would no longer by YA.

Think about dusting the bookshelves.

Think about mopping the floor.

Think about mopping the floor like Cinderella, with hot, sudsy water and bruised knees and singing.

Paint nails while thinking. (Color: Platinum Diamond)

Paint toenails. (Color: Same as above)
 
Think about baking bread.

Eat leftover broccoli and sesame tofu Chinese take-out.

Apply for a job on Indeed.com that already received a bazillion applications. Repeat until frustrated or sending applications to jobs already applied for 11 days prior. Repeat process on Monster and CareerBuilder just to be sure. 

Facebook.

More fucking Facebook.

Think about buying a lotto ticket and winning $200 million.

Realize that $200 million would probably be only half that after taxes were paid and wonder if $100 million is worth buying a lotto ticket.

Google the lyrics to "Rubber Ducky."

Try to decide whether it would be best to make a cup of tea or take a nap.

Wake up an hour later and check Facebook.

Realize that maybe during that nap there was a dream? Maybe you had a dream where you saw Paul McCartney walking down the street and you immediately dropped down into a exaggerated Wayne's World-esque "we're not worthy" bow and then maybe Paul McCartney said something like, Hey girl, wouldn't be on my knees on the street if I were you or people will get the wrong idea, but it was actually witty and clever? And did you really just dream about a Beatle making a blow-job joke?

Realize your subconscious made a reference to a movie you saw on cable 20 years ago and yet somehow your brain can't remember the periodic tables or your own phone number or the directions to the dentist.

Think your brain might have actually subconsciously remembered a blow-job joke that was in the movie and spend the next 20 minutes reading Wayne's World quotes on IMDb. (It didn't. And based on quotes alone, Wayne's World is a stupid movie.)

Realize you have wasted an hour on IMDb but now know more about former SNL cast members than Lorne Michaels.

Think about watching a few episodes of 30 Rock.

Think about clearing off the coffee table.

Think about the fleeting existence of life.

Think about coffee.

Realize that it is indeed Tuesday, not Wednesday, and that along with it being the night to take out the garbage and recycling for morning pick-up, this all repeats tomorrow.
 

Friday QuoteDay

“I once asked an economist in Africa, after spending the day traveling through an African country seeing women working in the fields, women working in the markets, women fetching fuel, women carrying water, women tending children – I asked, ‘Don’t you think it’s time we count women contributions to the economy in some way?’ And he responded, ‘No, what they do is not part of the economy.’ And I said, ‘Well, if every woman working in the field, in the markets, in the homes were to stop working for a week, I think every economist would learn they are definitely part of the economy.”

— Sec. of State Hillary Clinton

Weekly Flâneur: Floored

Click to enlarge.

Skeletal photography from a dead press.

Part of the floor mural "Welcome to NoDa," by artist William Puckett, in the atrium of NoDa @ 28th.

Charlotte, N.C., 2012

Friday QuoteDay

"I look at really painful stuff in life as if it's gold, because you can go back and pan for it, mine it and it's powerful. The negative things and terrible things have paid off. To be an outsider is a blessed and joyful thing."

— Margaret Cho,  totally awesome. 

Weekly Flâneur: Last of the Summer Sunsets

Click to enlarge.

Hello, Autumn. 

Taken in my backyard, Charlotte, N.C., 2012

You Find Me

Every so often I check my blog's stats to see how people came to FitC. Here are 10 things Google believes FitC is about, accurate or not.

1.) Dirty Cat:

Bagheera is not amused.

 Despite the "FUN" arrows, Bagheera is not having any of your shenanigans.

2.) Serious Research:

Do your own homework. Don't copy mine.

3.) Pervy Fangirls:

You. You GTFO. Now. Because I don't know whether to be offended or turned on.

4.) Do What Now?

I don't know what you want. You want David Bowie? Here's some David Bowie.

When in doubt, you can never go wrong with David Bowie.

How Many More Years?

Short video I shot as the crowd gathered to watch MSNBC news film live at the EpiCentre in Charlotte, North Carolina, spontaneously begins to chant "Four More Years!" at the mere mention of Obama.

Friday QuoteDay

“Traveling is like flirting with life. It’s like saying, ‘I would stay and love you, but I have to go; this is my station.’”

— Lisa St. Aubin de Terán, English writer

Weekly Flâneur: DNC Edition

My hometown of Charlotte, North Carolina, is hosting the Democratic National Convention this week. For those unfamiliar with the election process in the states, think of the DNC as a big party. The DNC unites delegates from every state to discuss and celebrate the party platform during the election year, and it's the place where United States President Barack Obama will officially accept the nomination to run for re-election on the Democratic ticket.

What better way to celebrate four more years of Obama than with a collection of pics? Big names are in town, and the city is a circus of politicos and protesters. Many places won't allow cameras without an anchorperson and a boom mic attached to them, so the following shots are exterior Charlotte street scenes, a live taping of a TV show, and general convention madness. Enjoy! 

Welcome to the Queen City!

High fives: The official logo of the DNC.

We're turning left at Obama Ave.

Adulthood

Back in June, Sarah at Rainbow Reverie asked the question, "In what ways are you still a kid/teenager/generally irresponsible?" in her post 20 Ways In which I Am Not A Grown-Up. Her list was in preparation for the big 3-0 (a monumental number that tends to throw all of us for a loop). The ship has sailed on my 30-year benchmark (hello, 31!) but I strangely find myself no closer to complete grown-up-hood at 31 than at any other age. Why? 10 Reasons:

1.) I am writing a list of reasons why I am not a grown-up when I should be working.

2.) I stop for pizza after exercising at the gym. Which I eat on the drive home. By myself.

3.) Potato chips and ice cream ARE YES THEY ARE an acceptable dinner.

4.) In a side-by-side comparison of the summer when I was 15 years old and the summer I am 31 years old, not much has changed:

Natty, age 15: Watched Sailor Moon episodes, ate tons of hot dogs, ran around the woods with friends, lived at the neighbor's pool, stayed up late, baby-sat for $5 an hour in preparation for my first real job come Autumn.

Natalie, age 31: Watched Sailor Moon episodes, ate tons of (veggie) hot dogs, ran around outdoors with friends, lived at the community pool, stayed up late, wrote for 10 cents a word in preparation for a grand real job (or dependable freelancing) come Autumn?

Differences: All the activities at 31 included copious amounts of alcohol (hence the running-around-outdoors-in-the-dark), and when it finally came time to hit the hay, naked time with my significant other. At 15, hitting the hay meant a bowl of late-night cereal and Nick at Nite, before entering detailed handwritten pages in my various diaries.

5.) Once -- one singular time -- there was a rabbit in our backyard. Now every time I look out the window to the backyard I expect there to be a rabbit hanging out and munching on the clover.

6.) I wanted Matt to catch said rabbit and carry it to the local creek where my turtle friends live and see if they would race.

7.) I have turtle friends. Big as dinner plates. They eat hot dog buns and noodle casserole. (And apparently the neighbors take turns feeding them.) 

8.) No, really, I am procrastinating by writing this list instead of real work. We'll call it taking a break. This is not unprecedented behavior.

9.) On my office wall is a Xena: Warrior Princess calendar. It was my favorite Christmas gift last year from Matt. Proper grown-ups have calendars that feature stoic mountains with inspirational phrases. Or, you know, Doctor Who.

There's still a few months left of 2012 if you want your own! (Image via Amazon.)

10.) It seems when one reaches a certain age, swimming pool activity means sitting waist-deep in the water with a beverage in hand, sunglasses firmly planted over eye make-up, hair completely dry and body never getting wet above the navel. I am not one to shun various fun beverages, but my pool activity involves goggles and headstands and wet, tangled hair.

In all other ways, I'm sure I am a respectable and productive member of society. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go work eat Twizzlers and play on YouTube. As adults do.

Friday QuoteDay

“We are made out of stardust. The iron in the hemoglobin molecules in the blood in your right hand came from a star that blew up 8 billion years ago. The iron in your left hand came from another star. We are the laws of chemistry and physics as they have played out here on Earth and we are now learning that planets are as common as stars. Most stars, as it turns out now, will have planets.”

— Jill Tarter: A Scientist Searching For Alien Life

Happy Blue Moon, darlings! 

 

Badly Drawn Little Comics: Driving While Spring, Part II

Do y'all remember this little comic I made last year? Before my unannounced hiatus, I started a sequel! Even though it's no longer Spring (and practically no longer Summer!) it's time to share! 

Weekly Flâneur: Windows of Sky

(Image of skyscraper with blue sky. Click to enlarge.)

Look what's back this week!

All Hail the Queen City!

Hot time, summer in the city, Charlotte, N.C.

 

The Strangeness of Interviews

There's no solid day job in my life right now, but I make money freelancing for various publications. That means I'm a writer for hire, usually at 10 cents a word. The last jaunt was copywriting, but I prefer straight-up journalism over promo or ad writing any day.

Over the past few years I've interviewed dozens of people for articles and profiles -- in person, via email, on the phone. Every interview is a little bit different. I had an exciting one today, and tried to hide my excitement under a veneer of professionalism that came off a little stiff. I have never been on the other side as the interviewee and I am sometimes afraid it shows. (Job interviews are a different beast. There's a difference between, "Do I want to work with you, your personality, day-in and day-out?" and the "who, what, when, where, why and how" of a press interview.) Sure, sure, in Uni journo classes there were practice interviews at our desks, but that's not the same as sitting in the chair with a mic in your face, or being the person holding that mic. "Tell me everything about your life so I can write it down in my own words. Go!" Kinda horrifying, right?

Guarded interviewees will know when to state something is off-the-record or refuse to answer a question. That's cool. As long as you answer something. There have been a handful of interviews where it feels like I'm pulling teeth to get something beyond a yes or no answer. On the flip side, there have been a few interviews where I am suddenly and intensely bonded with the person I'm speaking to, social buddies meeting for booze and inside jokes, and oh, right, I have to write down what you're saying, sorry. Hang on, lemme turn on the tape player.

I use cassette tapes; a few years ago my MP3 voice recorder died during a phone interview with a local radio personality and I didn't realize it until the whole shebang was over. (Luckily, I had taken extensive notes.) Best to be an analog writer in a digital world. A button pops up to let me know when to flip the tape. Transcribing is a chore though; rewind the tape, stop, play, type, stop, rewind, repeat. 

There are people I never want to interview. I think I would actually refuse a chance to interview David Bowie. Never meet your heroes. They become human and fail you in the end.

Maybe one day, I'll become something beyond just the interviewer. And maybe someone will sit me down with a prepared list of questions and an eager, pleased look in their eyes and stick a microphone under my nose. It may not be as horrifying as it seems. Let's hope.

Badly Drawn Little Comics: Jolly Green Giant

(Click to enlarge both images)

How I spent my summer vacation: Doodles in pen. 

Nikki is adorable and cannot be captured by my poor drawing skills. (Sorry, Niks!) 

(Full text below the jump.) 

Friday QuoteDay

“There is no need for you to leave the house. Stay at your table and listen. Don’t even listen, just wait. Don’t even wait, be completely quiet and alone. The world will offer itself to you to be unmasked; it can’t do otherwise; in raptures it will writhe before you.”

— Franz Kafka, The Blue Octavo Notebooks

 

We Didn't Break Up

I promise, we didn't.

I am walking up a steep lane to a small cottage nestled in thick bramble. The wooden cottage door is swollen shut, but I must get inside, for in this small hidden cottage there is a pale white-washed room holding a stoic oak table. On this table there is a blue ceramic bowl holding a bright red apple. Inside the apple is a seed, and carved almost imperceptibly on this small apple seed is one word, "write."

First, I must make my way up the lane, through the door, into the room. Sit at the table, study the curves of the blue bowl. Weigh the apple in bare, sweaty palms. Decide to take a bite. It's not an altogether unpleasant task, just takes time.

It's taken a solid two months, but I found the seed. Hello, dear Flâneur in the City readers. I missed you. What's new?