Feliz Año Nuevo!

Perhaps it's because I am still mourning the loss of Jeremy Shockey for the Giants playoff game(s, hopefully). A friend of mine suggested that I revamp this blog to deal exclusively with my favorite tight end, then write him a letter asking him to sponsor either my current or former place of employment, a relationship which will blossom into an intense friendship and our inevitable nuptials. Writing this out I realize how insane it sounds, so I'm going to keep blogging about work and such, particularly the over-stimulation that starting a new job brings.

One of the hardest things about posting on this blog is how much it makes me think about Chile, and every time I have to revisit the circumstances under which I left. By rights, I should still be there, with my kids, with my volunteers, in my happy apartment with a job that I loved and the most comfortable bed in Santiago. Did I cry when I had to sell it to a purpose-less gringo who had just moved to the country, telling me "I don't know, maybe I'll teach English"? For the fourth time that day.

I delayed having to think about my old life, which seemed years away, when I was whisked directly from the airport to the hospital, only to return to a different, and much crappier hospital three days later when a friend was hit by a kamikaze cab driver who actually considered not stopping until I stuck my finger firmly in his face and said "Go f*ck yourself!", which maybe wasn't the best way to get him to stick around, in retrospect. As it turns out, of all of the people on the street that I night, that cabbie and I are the only witnesses to what happened.

"Are you sure the light was red, Lauren? Are you sure? Was the light red?"

I hate hospitals, and I hate how cliche it is to say that. But it's true. In the hospital room of my first visit, one of my sister's friend broke down, talking about how only horrible things happen to people in hospitals, and people don't come back out. Had she not poured Tanqueray into my Sierra Mist, I would have thrown her out, as no one in that room needed a reminder of any potential outcome. I countered "What about when babies are born? That's happy?" My sister and friend looked at me with a slight shake of the head. "NOOO! she cried. Do you know what happens to a woman's vagina?" I found her bottle of gin, topped off and tried to focus on Meerkat Manor. So it's not the smell, or the illness, or the constant beeping that gives me the creeps, it's the adverse effect that hospitals have on otherwise sane people.

I like to think that being in a normal work environment will make me more retrospective, since I've spent time wishing I had documented more of my Chilean journey. So much happened, and so much didn't. The hard part for me, is that so much is still happening that I can't be a part of anymore, that I traded a Chilean school for an American hospital room and a newfound addiction to my laptop. My selfishness upsets me, and I find myself drawn into the alternate reality of (as previously documented) of SoapNet.

And this, my friends, is why I don't find myself compelled to blog. Because I'm a sad-sack.

Happy New Year all the same. I have nothing but the highest of hopes for 2008. Will I get into graduate school? Will all of my friends continue to get married and have babies?

And most importantly, will I finally get to meet Jeremy Shockey?

It pours

I knew I was hitting rock bottom when I said to myself "Maybe I should start watching One Tree Hill." Until that moment, I had zero interest in the show. Especially since a friend of a friend made out with Chad Michael Murray at a party in the Flatiron District. While he was still married to Sophia Bush. But in the SoapNet midday line up, sandwiched comfortably between Melrose Place and the O.C., One Tree Hill seemed like the next logical step in my journey to full-on tv junkie. It wasn't until I spent two endless hours watching what can only be described as "everything wrong with the teen soap drama...with none of the good" that I actually turned off my television, my partner in crime for the weeks since I moved home from Chile, and vowed to never watch SoapNet again. The strange thing is, that's when the phone rang.

I got a job. A real "what-I-want-to-be-doing" kind of job, in a crappy neighborhood with awesome people. When the Deputy Director called me, after four days of speed bumpy inter-continental reference checking, it was almost as if she knew how narrowly I escaped CMM and his overacting crew of soulless adolescents, and the job offer (which I accepted so eagerly I was greeted with a slight, but audible, giggle) was my reward.

Then, perhaps because I was overjoyed at the prospect of having something other than Riverdale gossip and the New York Giants throw-myself-off-a-cliff season (and now this?), I left SoapNet off for the remainder of the day, and actually worked on a short story (in which my protagonists always get the cool nicknames I never had). I was snapped out of "Jules'" plucky world by a gmail chat "plunk", and with it a freelance offer. In my inbox, the long-awaited response to a blog pitch. Followed by three separate announcements that friends are engaged, which is getting old very quickly (I'm so happy for all of you, really). And I think I'm getting a temp job in the meantime. Big stuff.

That was Monday. Am I gloating? You bet. After weeks of making things up to tell my friends about my "day" and wishing I had a dog, I actually have news. It's good news. And as my blog struggles to re-find its voice, I believe you'll now be hearing about how (or if) it's possible to throw myself, 100%, behind something new, with the memories of Chile and the volunteers still so much in my mind. So for now, we'll start at 50% new place and take it from there.

And 0% One Tree Hill.

The Four Stages of Unemployment

1) Elation: Oh, to be in my bed until noon, followed by "take me back to simpler times" episodes of Beverly Hills 90210 before spending two hours at the gym. Round out the day with emails, texts and a drink at the Irish pub and the world is a wonderful place.

2) Boredom: You know what? Beverly Hills 90210 isn't all that good. And Guinness is expensive. If feel the drain every time I'm asked "So what makes you want to work here?"

3) Frustration: Credit card bills creeping, not getting the job I thought I would, too much time in my head, useless temp agencies, and a partridge in a pear tree.

4) Depression: This helps. So does this.

The Return of Pop-Up Video...

This should be on television. But I'll take what I can get.

The Best (and Worst) Omnipresent Christmas Music

Being unemployed (and having people tell me that I don't have to be in any rush to find a job) I'm spending a lot of time by myself. That is, I'm spending an impressive amount of time watching television. Coming from living in Chile with limited channels and an obsession with Dr. 90210, the world of choices and movies and DVR have left me on commercial overload. And it's working. I hear a song, and I know that I'm supposed to buy something. The bell is ringing, and I am a dog.

These songs were chosen to be included in ads ad movies for a reason, for their catchy quality, their nostalgia, or their "hip" beats. And they're everywhere. They just opened a Starbucks in my neighborhood, and those crazy kids and obligatorially blaring their overpriced itunes playlist/ixed CD. But the fact is, no matter how hard I try to hate what Christmas has become, and how much the music feeds into it, some of the songs are just really good. They make me happy to be home. So what's the best? What should you play at your next holiday party and not have peole hate you? Here you go:

1) God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen: Barenaked Ladies & Sarah McLaughlan
I heard this in Starbucks today, and I just love those Canadians. They managed to spice up a tired oldie, that I always hear sung by a men's choir. It's good times, trust me.
2) Stars: The Weepies
This is the song from the Old Navy commercial, and it's very sweet, if not an actual Christmas song. They also have a song in the JCPenney commercial (all that I want), which coincidentally is on the same album as the above song. And their song "The World Spins Madly On" is awesome, but overplayed on hip television shows. Commercialism at its best!
3) Please Come Home for Christmas: Charles Brown
Now, this song is overplayed on the movie circuit. But I'd come home if Charles Brown sang to me, and that's that.
4) River: Joni Mitchell, Indigo Girls or Travis (my personal favorite) versions
This is always played at the sentimental point in the movie, and that annoys me. It's a truly beautiful tune, and should just be appreciated for that.
5) A Change at Christmas: The Flaming Lips
The Flaming Lips brought us Yoshimi, and then they brought us this. And it's awesome.

Honorable Mentions:
-Carol of the Bells
-Santa Claus is Coming to Town (Bruce Spingsteen)
-Christmastime is Here (A Charlie Brown Christmas)
-Keep Christmas With You (Christmas Eve on Sesame Street)

And the worst:

1) All I Want for Christmas is You: Mariah Carey (or whichever wannabe is singing it at the moment)
This was a great song. A new classic, if you will. But right after that little girl sang it in Love Actually, it should have gone to sleep. Out of movies, off of tv shows and absent from ads. But instead, it became just as tired as all of the other Christmas standbys, which is really a shame.
2) Santa Baby: Whoever
I so fucking hate this song I can hardly stand it. It's everywhere, it's endless and it makes me want to rip my ears off my head and sling them at the poor shop workers peddling their soap or scarves or slippers wearing hideous outfits, even though it's probably their boss making them play it. This is the worst Christmas song in the world. It should be shot.
3) All Alone on Christmas: The Holiday Express
See above. Only replace "shops" with "movies", which makes the whole sentence somewhat nonsensical. But whatever, that's how much I hate this song.
4) Blue Christmas: Elvis
You know what? I hate Elvis. There, I said it.
5) Grandma Got Runover By a Reindeer
Is so truly idiotic....

In my very intense research, I stumbled upon this article about selling out, or Beyonce-ing as I like to call it (that HDTV commercial...are you kidding?). The use something called "The Moby Quotient" (hee) to calculate sell-out-ness of music as used in commercials (how does my beloved Wilco measure up?).

Trolling

I've been trolling around the blogging universe alot lately, due to my unemployment and general disenchantment with life at home. I've seen some really hilarious Internet fights, with lots of housewives getting all uppity and lots of idiots being idiots.

I realize something: I'm really sick of blogs about blogging. Or freelance writing. Spitting out the same nonsense about how to make it into the business, and make money, etc. Sure, I found some jobs through a website that lists jobs, but it seems that every member of that community has their own blog about....blogging. If everyone is just blogging about blogging, then what's the point. There is so much more in the world to be talking about!

Like the fact that I'm becoming more and more obnoxious with each passing day. I interviewed at a little npo on the Upper West Side, and they decided to consider me for a job with more responsibility (and a higher paycheck) that I originally applied for. Hooray for me, right? Well, no because I didn't get it. Because I wasn't really all that qualified. So then, why put me through three interviews? Right now, I don't really have any idea why they did it. But I hate them.

Working in the non-profit field is not unlike for-profit, in that people are still really competitive. At all the interviews I've been on since Chile, I always get the feeling that we're talking more about whose organization does the best work, or has the greatest mission, or reaches the most children/women/endangered species. It's kind of exhausting having to talk about how great we all are as people, especially in the "give me a job, please" context.

Ideally, this will all be over on Monday, when I expect to hear from and org that I really like, and that I think would be a great fit for me. Until then, I leave you with a great list from Cracked.com. Enjoy!