Roadblocks

The Internet is down at my apartment ... no fix in sight.

I have to spend $2/visit in coffee each time I come to the neighborhood coffee shop to use their Internet without guilt.

My apartment is also a T-mobile dead zone. (In short, if you want to get a hold of me, be patient. I'll get the voice mail or email eventually.)

The economy is slapping me in the face every day. "Want a job? Ha! We mock you! Do you know how many other laid-off, unemployed, starving editors are looking for jobs?" it says, as another bank shuts down.

I have had 14 meetings/interviews in three weeks and not one job offer.

Every publishing company is in a hiring freeze. "We like you, your work is really impressive. We just can't hire anyone right now."

I'm so brain-dead that I submitted a copy-editing cover letter, which was addressed to the wrong editor. I claimed to be, "meticulous and able to work accurately on a tight deadline." Apparently not.

But ... I'm not ready to give up just yet.

Time for my soapbox

Where, oh where, do I Barack the Vote this year?


I live in New York, yes, but I don't have a permanent address. I'm still registered in Oregon; my driver's license is Iowa; and most my important mail is sent to Kansas.

Ideas?

All I know is that Sarah Palin is the most terrifying name in American history, aside from (or perhaps akin to) George W. Bush.

Gloria Steinem and Eve Ensler and Rebecca Traister from Salon sum up my thoughts on the issue fairly well.

Even Matt Damon agrees.

I can say, as self-described feminist, that I've never been more terrified to have a woman in the White House. She is the anti-feminist woman; and for people to so boldly (and horrifyingly ignorantly) assume that because I'm a woman, I'll vote for her is equally as terrifying. Are we really so transparent? Do people really think we're so thoughtless, such sheep?

But what's sad is that there are people who truly believe that this Republican ticket will be the best choice for our government, economy, and all-around quality of life. Please, please tell me why. I really want to know. Because I frankly don't understand, and I think that middle America is duped beyond recognition. These people are so brainwashed into believing this neo-conservative party and their lies that they can't even recognize insanity and ridiculousness as it continuously slaps them in the face.

With a McCain/Palin ticket, we'd successfully shoot ourselves in the foot as women--and as a country. Someone who tries to ban books from libraries (good god), shoots wildlife from helicopters, and doesn't understand the Bush Doctrine (and doesn't even know that the Bush Doctrine is something she should, in fact, know) will ruin us.

"I write to my sisters. I write because I believe we hold this election in our hands. This vote is a vote that will determine the future not just of the U.S., but of the planet. It will determine whether we create policies to save the earth or make it forever uninhabitable for humans. It will determine whether we move towards dialogue and diplomacy in the world or whether we escalate violence through invasion, undermining and attack. It will determine whether we go for oil, strip mining, coal burning or invest our money in alternatives that will free us from dependency and destruction. It will determine if money gets spent on education and healthcare or whether we build more and more methods of killing. It will determine whether America is a free open tolerant society or a closed place of fear, fundamentalism and aggression." - Eve Ensler

Please, just tell me why. I'm listening.

BITCH needs your help!

Your PSA of the day:

Bitch magazine, the feminist response to pop culture, needs $40,000 to publish their next issue.


They're an independent and nonprofit organization, something that lacks in today's mega magazine corporate world. Help them!

Good Luck, says the pigeon

A pigeon pooed on me yesterday.

I was waiting for a table at brunch with a friend. As I was standing there, splot!, a big blob of green grossness landed on my arm and purse strap. After standing there for a bit, appalled and slack-jawed, I bee-lined it for the bathroom and cleaned up, after which I enjoyed unlimited mimosas and a spinach and goat-cheese omelet.

I was told that in some cultures, a pigeon pooing on you is a sign of good fortune. Let's hope this is true, because I have yet to catch a break here in the city.

I've interviewed for three real positions, and on Friday an editor got back to me and said that although I'd be great at the job, they had to freeze the position due to budget cuts. She said "no one is more disappointed than me." I beg to differ.

One down. Still waiting to hear about the other two. In the meantime, I'm freelancing from home and running out of avenues. In fact, the woman I was supposed to meet with today about a freelancing job broke her wrist, so no interview now.

I've emailed/contacted every HR department of every publishing company and sought out nearly every contact I know. It's hard to not get discouraged, and on Saturday I fought the "I just want to give up" feeling that inevitably rears its ugly head.

But then a good friend from Portland reminded me of my own advice: Do something every day that scares you, she said. Then, she so brazenly dared me to follow my own advice (imagine that!) and come up with a Bucket List of New York City (without the whole kicking-the-bucket as motivation). Every week I have to give her a digested version of one thing I did every day that either scared me, motivated me, or was out of my ordinary routine.

It's a challenge, but I'm not one to shirk from a challenge (how do you think I ended up here?). So here we go ... The Bucket List commences today.

And I guess it could be worse, right? I could be working for Lehman Brothers.

Just something I've been considering ...

I mean, really, how bad could this be?

I like cookies. I bake. It could be perfect.

Rachel freelances out of ...

I had my first true New York moment yesterday. I'd been waiting for it to happen. So far life here has been fairly simple: I wake up, work, get dressed, get on the train into Manhattan, interview, get on the train back to Brooklyn, work, and maybe get dinner/drinks later.

It's fairly uneventful and not at all glamorous.

But on Friday I went into the office of a magazine I'm freelancing for, and they're putting me on the Contributors page. I finally read what they'd written about me, which included: "Rachel freelances out of her home in New York City."

Yes, ma'am; that sure is what I do. When you put it in print, it makes it a bit more real, huh?

I Bit It

Yup, it's true. I bit it in the subway. Running to catch the F train at Rockefeller Center, my hot new patent, pointy-toe pumps got caught in my hot new wide-leg trousers. Down I went, and there's a little rub in my hot new trousers to prove it.

I wasn't even a bit embarrassed; just pissed that I'd probably missed the train. So I picked myself up and realized it was the V train I was running for -- the F train came a minute later and whisked me home.

See? These are the ups and downs of New York. One minute you're cursing the train and its many detours (then you get out and aimlessly travel five avenue blocks the wrong direction while talking on the phone); the next minute you're having chocolate and peanut butter fro yo with a great old friend, then on the way home, the train arrives immediately.

You love it here, you hate it here. That's the way it goes.

Today is really just my second full day in the city. I've been a traveling queen thus far. This weekend, I Amtrak-ed it to Hudson for a good friend's carnival-like wedding.

There was a juggler,



and a tight-rope walker,



And these clowns, too:



But mostly, it was the grandest party and the most genuine wedding I've been to. Best of all, I was reunited with the people that made me who I am (seriously). I wouldn't be pursuing a dream of working in New York if it weren't for the three kids with me in the bottom photo, plus many, many other people from Drake who I worked on DMAG with. Anywho, more spectacular shots here, please.

On the way home, we stopped at the Storm King Art Center for a bit of culture and nature, all in one!

Look how strong she is!

Look how tall he isn't!

Then, finally, I was home for Labor Day and enjoyed a lovely backyard Brooklyn BBQ, but didn't make it into Manhattan at all. Yesterday, I was up in Chappaqua (can we all guess what interview I had there?) and drove by Bill and Hillary's pad. Today, I finally went into the city for an HR meeting, but now have lots of work to be done from home. Tomorrow, another interview, and Friday another HR meeting (and two edit tests due somewhere in between).

Whew. There's a reason it's the city that never sleeps.