Blogs, like life, are all about rhythm, and I’m working on getting my chops back, which resulted in the quixotic title of my last post. For those concerned, I was referring to the two pieces of advice on going to Mexico that I received from my all-Mexican, all-female coworkers: 1) don’t drink the water and 2) don’t trust the hookers, with the implied 3) don’t drink anything the hookers give you.
The business of blogging, like to many memoir-type writing projects, has seemed so confusing to me, considering that the people that I would be writing about are also more likely the people who would be reading this. Writers like David Sedaris, who milks his material from his hilariously dysfunctional family and relationships, continues to confuse me as much as he entertains me.
Case in point: I have a girlfriend, but I doubt how much you’ll see me writing about her and our relationship here in this public forum, while if you’ve been around me for even a few minutes you’ll know that shutting up is one (of the few) things I do very poorly, along with swimming, running, learning Mandarin Chinese, and understanding the finer nuances of French Cuisine.
My post-graduation life has been much along the tedious lines of what I could have expected, with a few splashes of excellence thrown in for good measure: the aforementioned girlfriend, for example, along with my new job.
I actually managed to find two new jobs right around the same time, both part-time and thus the perfect combination. My first job was for a friend of my dad’s, also a Director of Photography (DP), who owned a good deal of camera and lighting equipment and was ready to expand his business by bringing in somebody to work his warehouse. The perfect storm formed between the two of us over his San Rafael shop as his need met my total availability, and I suddenly had a job…
…which has given me exactly zero hours this month, but a job nonetheless.
My other job has enjoyed a bit more fruition, as I’ve actually been able to work in a field I’m interested in, the law. After striking out time and again trying to reach a lawyer I knew at a big, glitzy firm in San Francisco, I opened the Yellow Pages to Lawyers and started calling every name on the list.
Seriously, I recommend this approach to everybody out there who is looking for a job. Figure out what field you want to work in, find a company you’d like to work for, and call them. They will be so impressed by your moxie in cold-calling that you’ll have an advantage right out the gate.
I managed to get in touch with an immigration attorney in Oakland, and drove to meet up with her a couple of days later. That same day I was sitting in on client consultations in Spanish, and I’ve been working there ever since. And while each day falls somewhere between total stress and utter tedium, or often covering both, I’m enjoying it and learning a lot.
But now, it’s bedtime for Bonzos, as they say.