HARPER: It’s terrible. Mormons are not supposed to be addicted to anything. I’m a Mormon.

PRIOR: I’m a homosexual.

HARPER: Oh! In my church we don’t believe in homosexuals.

PRIOR: In my church we don’t believe in Mormons.

[from Tony Kushner's Angels in America, Part One, Act One, Scene 7]

I admit it’s been quite a while since I’ve read a play. Probably a decade, to be honest, which really makes me feel a) depressed and b) old. Since I’m an LA dweller now, I figure it’s time to start reading some theater. I picked up Tony Kushner’s Angels in America at my local library (retro, I know!) and went to town.

It didn’t take long before I was crying, laughing, cheering, growling. There is so much passion and creativity on every page. Lately I’ve been fascinated with dialogue, which is another reason I wanted a play. This little gem exceeded my expectations. It’s in two parts, but some places sell it all together in one bundle. Make sure you have part one and two!

This play, for me, was much more poignant and enjoyable than The Glass Menagerie or Death of a Salesman (although it’s been years since I’ve read them).

What it has: crazy people, affairs, sickness, death, religion and lack thereof, Mormons, imaginary friends, angels, AIDS, politics, homo- and heterosexuals, courage, wit, redemption.

No, I say, there were
actual fireworks, but
I love you also,
like light exploding.

→A quickie for your Independence Day.

I’ve been bouncing around some other options in my brain for more lucrative ventures. Living with an engineer is starting to rub off on me I guess, or maybe it’s that he customizes his code in such cool colors that I think, Hey, I can do that. It looks interesting, stimulating and intellectual; let’s give it a try! Ohh, purple keywords, I liiiiike! Are keywords even a thing in codespeak? Who knows. Not I.

This sort of “code crush” coincided with a family member asking me if I could make a website. I’m rocking WordPress, yes, but can I make a website? Can I make it from scratch? Can I figure out how to extract data from an Excel file on the web or even figure out how to link my domain name to my hosting service? Can I? Of course I can! So, as I’m scrunching my face and googling “how to blahblahblah” (and wondering what the hell I should even start with), I say to my smartypants engineer boyfriend, “Um, I don’t even know where to start? I don’t know what to google…”

And he of infinite answers says, “Try AcademicEarth.org. They may have free lectures on web design.” And lo and behold: free lectures on building dynamic websites, from a Harvard professor no less. So it gets real.

After watching one lecture (just under two hours in length), I know much more about the web than I really ever did. But I still can’t make a website. I don’t know that I’ve ever been patient in learning a craft, but I’m fairly certain patience will become my best friend if this website-designing thing is really going to pan out. I realize that I’m lucky to have the time to watch such long, involved lectures, and I also realize that you don’t learn anything unless you really want to. The hardest part will be to stop daydreaming of being a website developer, and to start biting away at all the things I need to learn.

Step one: Find out what these elusive acronym-like names mean. PHP, XML, SQL, Ajax. Brain freeze!

Step two: Eat the elephant.

Okay, universe. I put it out there. Now I must hold myself to it.

So, just three hours after the yoga class, the store has already decided to pursue other candidates. Sort of insulting, considering during the interview they mentioned having two full time and one part time position open. As I closed the email, I remember what a lump-in-the-throat felt like. I know I’m emotional because of my period, but that little girl inside me is feeling so small. In an effort to not fray like an old sweater, I go to the kitchen, roll up my sleeves and begin washing the massive amount of dirty dishes.

Jessica A says: You can’t even get a job in retail. Retail’s where you have the most experience, and you can’t even land one of three available jobs in a dumb retail store. They don’t even want you to fold clothes, chat with customers. They would rather pursue other options. Other people are more pursued than you.

Jessica B says: It’s only retail. You want something you can pour your heart into, something that you love doing. You’ve done retail. It’s a job. You want a career. You can have a career! This is a new city, a new state, a new start. Be what you want. Do what you want.

Jessica A: What are you going to do? Rent is in due in four days. And look at you, getting excited about not being completely broke. You thought for a second you’d have some dollars to put away, you’d watch your savings account rise, and if you wanted a new shirt, you’d buy it, no problem. You thought you’d have coworkers to talk to, someone to suppress your growing need for an imaginary friend. Lousy. You’re lousy.

Jessica B: Hug yourself. Keep your chin up. Do the dishes. Be a goddamn grownup. You’re the one that wanted to be an English major. You liked it, right? Well, keep trying, you’ll get a job. You’ll get a career you’re over the moon about. Keep flowing your good energy out, out, and it will come back to you, shining like a new coin.

Jessica A: What’s next, food service? People gotta eat. Someone’s gotta give it to them.

]]> http://dumbassenglishmajor.wordpress.com/2010/06/27/job-sagas-part-one/feed/ 1 jessica writes http://dumbassenglishmajor.wordpress.com/2010/04/11/word-efficiency/ http://dumbassenglishmajor.wordpress.com/2010/04/11/word-efficiency/#comments Sun, 11 Apr 2010 21:25:37 +0000 jbay http://dumbassenglishmajor.wordpress.com/?p=132 ]]> As I spend time thinking about words, digesting words, rolling them around in my mouth and then my chest, I realize more and more the power of efficiency. Poetry, good poetry, capitalizes on the efficiency of language. So often when I speak, write, or even think, I’m not using the word that I actually mean to use. Being accurate with language is no longer valued in speech. Sure, we all appreciate hearing well-read, witty people share their views, but I rarely make an effort to search for the most accurate description possible. This is pathetic, since I call myself a writer.

Writing poetry daily has forced me to slow down and examine my words. I’m learning how to cut the fat, so to speak. Now I’m learning how important it is to go inside the poem with a scalpel and take out all of the waste.

Perhaps I was drawn to form poetry, namely the sonnet, in college because form demands efficiency.

Brad Leithauser, in an essay titled Poetry and Efficiency for The Best American Poetry’s website, writes of the sonnet:

“Efficiency? Effectiveness? What could be a more effective and efficient human interchange than the one in which someone you’ve never met offers you, in a tidy package of fourteen lines–a gift whose unwrapping will require no more than a minute or two–an intact and insightful new vantage on the universe?”

This accuracy, this efficiency, is necessary in poetry, so that once you cut away the fluffy lines and useless or unclear images, you’re left with the purest, most concentrate words on the page.

I would love to hear any thoughts on word choice and efficiency in poetry, or in life in general! Thanks for reading.

Mari also told me about Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer, which will also have a prompt a day for the entire month of April.

Let’s celebrate the enchantment of words!

I’m looking forward to writing a talk back poem using one of these poets soon. I bought these books from a spectacular used book store in/around the Little Greek neighborhood called Circus Books & Music. (Really, stop by if you’re in Toronto.) I could have bought a lot more than these two books, but I had to limit myself.

Toronto’s art and music scene was inspiring (especially the shops along Queen Street!), and I hope to go back someday.

My jazz club recommendations for Toronto include The Rex (where we saw the University of Toronto Jazz Ensemble) and The Reservoir. Both places had fantastic music with a cool atmosphere, but they were very different places. Check ‘em out!

I stumbled across this poem by Carol Ann Duffy, and it really caught my eye. I thought I would share it with you, whoever you are, you curious internet stalkers! Here you go:

Stuffed

I put two yellow peepers in an owl.
Wow. I fix the grin of Crocodile.
Spiv. I sew the slither of an eel.
I jerk, kick-start, the back hooves of a mule.
Wild. I hold the red rag to a bull.
Mad. I spread the feathers of a gull.

I screw a tight snarl to a weasel.
Fierce. I stitch the flippers on a seal.
Splayed. I pierce the heartbeat of a quail.

So I’ve faced the music and decided it’s time to get a job. Even if I have to be an assistant again. Even if I’m an assistant in a place that offers me no upward mobility. Even if I’m making a measly hourly wage. It must be done.

And now I’m raising the white flag, waving it around in hopes to find a crappy, meaningless, bill-paying job. I would actually be happy waking up at 7 a.m., making lunch, getting to work, having tasks to complete, having people to talk to, and earning a paycheck. One where the employer takes out taxes and I might be eligible for a tax refund next year.

Oh, because this year I think I owe the government. Freelancing, such a hard, scary, sexy bitch of a job.

Monkey, you are not alone!