Money Makes The World Go Round

When you are a temp you've been called in for one of two reasons:

1. The Executive needs to maintain a certain appearance within the culture - "I cannot function without assistance.  I'm too busy for little things, I have a spa appointment at 2p."  On these assignments I usually answer the phone a few times and spend most of my day writing blogs as there is literally nothing for me to tangibly do.  I am set dressing.  I wonder how many novels have been written at certain Executive Admins' desks... or should be. 

OR

2. The Executive is a highly skilled, highly experienced, highly respected individual with savant dedication and talent.  Without help, he/she would drown - "I have an overseas conference call at 8am, a power-point presentation to dispense at 8:30a and somewhere in between I have to get a memo out to The Board about next year's predictions.  I don't have time to eat much-less figure out how to plug in my laptop."  As a temp, I love these experiences.  I feel valued and love the challenge of walking into the chaos with a cool hand.  On these assignments, I'm the bomb squad.

Last Monday, when I walked into the cubicle of where I was assigned I thought, "This looks like triage."  Excellent!  Executive Number 2!  No one had time to explain protocol.  My help, any help was welcome.  Every single person I came in contact with was vibrating with a mission.  It was obvious they not only had a lot to do, but they enjoyed doing it - the way you enjoy painting a room... before the in-laws show up, tomorrow.  

I am 37.  Three years ago I decided to leave the acting business.  I still don't know what to tell people at parties when they ask me what I do.  "Freelance... Human?"  Most of my NYC 'day jobs' have been in offices and since I quit seeking a real acting career, most of my resume shows me sitting behind a desk... many times.  A Career Placement Councilor once told me I was a "Job Hopper".  I explained I was an actor.  She didn't even blink, "Same thing." 

Earlier this year, I happily, ecstatically got married to the yin to my yang.  We plan to start a family in two years after he figures out what he wants to tell people he does for money.  He's an artist.  We are attempting to define our own realities including the future of our family.  We're trying not to feel latent.  We need more Vitamin B.

I think everyone wants to love their job.  But earning money is often... unhappy work.  I'm lucky to have experienced so many kinds of jobs while searching for a meaningful existence.  Whenever my 'day job' spilled into my 'life', my close friends, who observed my tendencies towards total collaborative emersion, would remind me that for artists, earning money is just a 'means to an end.'  

This notion has always intensely bothered me.  I can meditate.  I can find hobbies.  I can find reasons to sacrifice.  I can try to be awake and aware and enjoy my daily tasks regardless of what I'm doing.  I'm alive aren't I?  But honestly, if I have the choice, why would I spend 8 to 12 to 16 hours of every day doing something I don't enjoy?  Why do we take this Revolutionary Road?  Is our system for organizing life prioritized so deadly we've forgotten the mystery?  We don't know why we are here, why be here in dread?  Are we just collecting paychecks for the future?  What if we don't make it to the future?

Temping is a good way for me to make decent cash and not have to label myself.  I change my mind too much and I like costumes.  I'm lucky that one of my best friends works for a staffing company.

My step mother told me to tell people I'm an artist.  I told her I didn't feel like one yet.  She said to tell people I was a photographer.  I told her that was a big, fat, giant lie.  And besides I don't want anyone to pay me for my hobby.  Then I have to act like I know what I'm doing.  She said to say I'm a "1099er".  I'll use it.

Until I have the guts to say I'm a writer.

You say you want a revolution
Well, you know
We all want to change the world
You tell me that it's evolution
Well, you know
We all want to change the world
But when you talk about destruction
Don't you know that you can count me out
Don't you know it's gonna be all right
all right, all right 
-The Beatles

Freaky Friday

6:33PM


"Julian got a job!"


"That's great mom!  I was offered a job too!"


"Do you want it?"


"It's not everyday a great company just asks you to work for them.  I can't make up my mind.  I want to work part-time but we could use the money.  I just don't want to get stuck in the cycle again.  I want to have time to write."


"What are you going to do?"


"Wait."

Thursday Thoughts

4:58PM


"Hey."


"Hey. How are you?"


"Tired. Doing another errand."


"Did you have lunch?"


"No, it's crazy. I ate at my desk."


"Sweetheart, you have to take lunch."


"But I lose money anyway. I don't mind. They really like me. Someone asked to see my resume. I do like it here."


"I'm sure they did and I'm sure you do. Are you going to work late?"


"No, I told them I had to get home."


"You did? I'm impressed."


"Gotta walk the dog."


"He's been in there all day poor little guy."


"Poor Bootle. How'd it go today?"


"Well you know, I'm tired but it went well. Tomorrow is the big presentation and we HAVE to get to bed early tonight. I have to be up at five."


"I know sweetheart. We will. We'll get on schedule. It's hard when we go to bed late. It's tough with full time work. I'm sorry about the house."


"Yeah. We've gotta take care of that this weekend."


"I'll do it."


"I'll help."


"I better get back to things. I't nuts here. We'll talk tonight. I love you."


"I miss you. I love you."

Wednesday Wonderwoman

12:35 PM


"May I speak with Mrs. Skura please?"


"Hey!"


"Hey! They want to know if you're available next week."


"YEE-aws!"


"Well, I wasn't sure. It's not part time."


"I know. I like it here. They like me."


"'Cause you are good!"


"So Happy-Day-After-Your-Birthday, did you have a nice night?"


"Yes it was great. I told Gates I wasn't looking forward to this one and she said: You have to because you are older! I said: Exactly sweety. It's OK, she thinks I'm 26."


"Well you look it. Are you having fun with your mom being in town? How long is she here?"


"Monday. Yes it's great! You should come see her."


"Maybe this weekend? I'll call you. I should go. It's kind of nuts here. I don't think I'm having lunch. But they like me so that's good."


"We'll talk later. Have fun!"


"You too. Thank you!"

Tuesday Temptress

1:35PM

"Hey!"

"How's it going?"

"It's going well! I like it here. They have this big event next week and they are totally slammed. I've been sent out to buy stuff for the tables. Everyone is really nice."

"That's good."

"Yeah.  What are you up to?"

"Ahhh, you know, still researching schools. Making sales calls but I'm way behind. There's so much to do. A lot of these places have deadlines in November and December. Plus, there's the GRE..."

"You can do it!  I'll help you!"

"Sweetheart, this is a BIG deal.  I don't even know what I'd want to study yet."

"It doesn't matter!  Just pick something!  I'll help you gather the paperwork and letters and you study and take the GRE and we'll get everything together next week!"

"Sweetheart.  It doesn't work like that."

"We'll talk tonight.  I have to get back.  They're really..."

[Together.] "...slammed."

"Yeah. I like it though. It's tempting. Nice office. Nice people. It's make up!"

"You've been there a day. I thought you wanted to write."

"I do. I'm just thinking about money. I don't know. Corporate is so tempting. Benefits. Nice money. Maybe I should do it for a while if they ask? I think they may ask? I really like it here. But... I don't know. I haven't written anything yet this week."

"We'll talk tonight."

"I love you."

"You too."

Monday Morning Monetary Miracle

11:58 AM


"Yes!"


[Laughing.] "Good! How quickly can you be downtown?"


"An hour?  Hour fifteen."


"That's good."


"I didn't even finish listening to your message.  I just hung up and called you."


"As soon as Karen told me about the assignment I didn't even let her finish!  I said: JEN!"


"I'll call you back with details."


"Excellent!  Sweet!  Thanks!"

Man's Best Friend

The dog is going to kill me for posting this.

Three

That sharp small stab
A trigger, a wish, a reminder
I have to wait
I am not ready
We can't


I curl up to twist the bulge
I bring another pillow to my chest
The dog's breath is warm
And I think about when he will die


A gurgle and burp
I squeeze my legs
I bet it hurts just like this
And I think about when I will die


I look forward to looking back
Seeing my love and knowing we have made 
This...


I hold my breath.

Reality Sound Bites

I went to a friend's afternoon cocktail party the other day. My friend who I often call 'Carrie' as in 'Carrie Bradshaw'. She is a successful wedding planner who recently went through a divorce. The cocktail party was a backdrop for the pilot of her new reality TV show.


About fifteen years ago in Los Angeles, I used to do extra work for extra cash. The Screen Actor's Guild paid us very well to mime conversations and stand behind people who were paid even better to speak out loud. Many actors have a hard time doing this aimless background work, therefore, there are not a lot of actors doing it. Background Artists are a breed of their own. Odd skills are required. There is a lot of waiting around between takes and back when I was enduring it, there were no hand-held computers. You made friends or you read books. If you chose to make friends, you had to tolerate a lot of strange folks making small talk about strange things. Strange like being a stranger at a cocktail party for a reality television show.


At this cocktail party, I watched the camera follow 'Carrie' around the room and I noticed everyone become perfectly animated whenever the lights hit them. Especially 'Carrie'. She looked amazing. She'd been in a makeup chair earlier and of course her perfect dress hid the mic the perfect distance from her lips. When she hugged me I felt the battery pack on her back. 


She mentioned she wanted to do this party to thank her clients, vendors and friends who'd been there to support her business. I was honored to be invited and at the same time felt flashbacks about the extra work. I also thought I'd recognized the room she booked from the ONE episode I'd seen of The Real Housewives of NYC. 'Samantha' would have been proud of her lemons-to-lemonade multitasking. She was getting good PR, giving good revenge and turning her irony into opportunity. 


There was no director telling us what to do and I still wasn't clear on my role in her reality show. I'm a trained actor. I am NEVER NOT aware when a camera is on me and if I don't have lines, I'm either a miming, over-articulating idiot or an awkward mute. Back in school, reality acting was not a part of the curriculum. When 'Carrie' came over to me, lights and camera in tow, I flip-flopped between big-eyed, overacting and a lot of silent nodding. 


I was the only guest with a degree in Theatre Arts. 


The cameras never came back to me. 


At least there were free drinks. Back in L.A., there were no martinis for us out in the freezing Pacific at 6am shooting David Hasselhoff's Malibu Shores.

Turning Japanese

I am a star dork. I get struck extremely easily. If I have even seen someone's name in print I think they are more important than I and I yield the floor openly with rose pedals and back-stepping, geisha bows. It is never a mental choice, always a gut instinct.


Because I hate watching myself do this, I am usually completely terrified of being in the presence of a star. Especially alone.


I was recently left in a room with Terry Richardson. My colleagues had no idea who he was and couldn't understand why I suddenly turned into Horshack. Many of my friends consider him a kiddie porn peddler (ah, the mentors we breed...), I happen to like some of his work.


I did relatively well in front of the celeb this time. Unlike when I walked by Paul McCartney on 54th Street and stood in his way so I could say: 


(Gulp. Pause. Gulp. Pause. Pause.)


"Hi." 


I did this in such a deer-in-headlights-forced-and-tortured-eyes-like-saucers way he burst out laughing at me.


Terry is not even close to Paul stature but I still felt myself turning slowly inside out. I couldn't help but mention to Terry that I liked his work and when he asked my name and held out his hand I mumbled who I was while looking at the floor. Then I went and hid in the bathroom.  Then I came out and sat at the other end of the room and pretended there was something extremely important deep inside my purse all while eating my tongue. After he left I took a picture of his shoes.


After I put them next to mine. 


I know I am not normal.

Mockumentoring

Due to unforeseen circumstances Greg and I went to bed extremely late last night and since we are no longer teenagers, we are not capable of saying our own names without a decent night's sleep. We were up late this morning and I've been playing catch up all day. One of those breakfast for lunch days. I showered before dinner.


I wondered what would it look like if my day today had been filmed NatGeo style. Lots of texting and phone calls to reschedule my life... a chase scene from my living room to the kitchen set to indigenous drum beats.


Or vice versa...


How do Aborigines let their people know they're running late for their next meeting?

PARISocial Activity

I have had dreams that Britney Spears was my sister. More than once. I have never even bought one of her songs. 

The only rag mag I 'read' is Entertainment Weekly and the occasional Huffington Post celebrity blurb. Somehow I know what Cameron Diaz looks like without make up.

I am almost NEVER on Facebook or YouTube but my husband has kept me up with the Jones's to see dancing dogs and rapping nerds. I've actually applauded the monitor.

The X and Y'ers grew up before we all had instant media in our pockets. The new generation has so much information stimuli streaming at them, how do they know their 'real' friends from 'virtual' ones? Everyone is famous in our World Wide Web. John Mayer is allotted the same number of characters per Tweet as I. 

I recently spent a few days with a 16 year old boy. We were both a part of a group hired to act in short scenes for a company conference. Good money, good audience, corporate 'art'. Like all teenagers, this kid, Ronnie, had a lot of energy and was always hungry. He would bounce around between his phone, his headphones and basic bursts of little dancing jigs that he sang to. He'd even brought his props for practicing Poi, which he performed every couple of hours when the urge or audience hit him. He showed us pictures of his friends and bragged about how many different nationalities they all were. He claimed to be able to sing 20 songs that were each in a different language. 

One thing I found very interesting about this kid was that he never once mentioned a celebrity. He didn't claim allegiance to a band that changed his life or to a rich and beautiful heiress. When I asked him who his acting idol was, he said he liked Jackie Chan but then said he didn't know how to 'fight or anything' like him.  Of course we are all concerned about the narcissism of the new generation and what to expect for the future of these little people all trying to be uniquely the same, but after meeting Ronnie, I have more confidence that these kids might actually be absorbing the benefits of streaming information. People are still people.  

Hopefully, parents will still parent in this world and the virtual one. The old dogs may be the ones fooled by these new tricks.

Patience & Fortitude

Sometimes you remember two little words that sound like good advice.

They are.

Death By Mac

I do not consider myself a savvy tech person AT ALL and I certainly do not have the latest toys, but I recently stepped out of my body and saw myself do something I frequently do:

Typing on my G4 laptop, headphones in my ears plugged into the iPod on my lap, I grabbed my iPhone to check my photos and emailed one to myself. 

If we are all getting cancer from these things I'm screwed. My name is Jennifer and I'm a Appleholic.

It's Weird To Be Right

I caught a glimpse of Larry King Live last night.  I told Greg I thought Larry King was looking a little, well, tired.  Greg mentioned Larry King was about to retire.


I wouldn't for one second consider I am the gal with her finger on the tipping pulse of this world.  As a matter of fact, I'm way behind in this... who am I kidding... ALL breaking news.  But I think it's odd when things fall out of my mouth that can only come from my armchair philosophical, observational experience.


Even though the show is titled "Larry King Live" I expect that producing executives wouldn't dare let this iconic program dwindle off. Milk it until it's dry and then until it's dust and then until somebody gets horrifically offended and sues... it rebirths but loses money in a court battle but gets enough publicity to get noticed for another season... then it finally dies only to be dug up 5 years later as a movie, a book, Broadway show or television series. Will they call it, Larry King Live Except That He's Not Here Anymore?


So I asked Greg:


"Who's replacing him, Ryan Seacrest?"


I was joking. 


Ryan Seacrest has been Dick Clark's protegee for the past few years. I always get teary when he waxes Dick's car every New Year's Eve, thanking him for the opportunity to fill a king's shoes.  I have too much respect for these men to full-on make fun of Ryan, Dick or Larry. But come on, it's kinda funny. Ryan, the hearse chasing host?  Ryan, Dick and Larry walk into a bar...

Greg answered me:

"Yeah, I think."

My mouth dropped and I found this on line: Larry King

I'm getting old.  Maybe Ryan will take over my blog.

Come and knock on our door...

Greg and I have been inviting folks over for dinner lately. Our circle of friends are just as broke as we are so it's nice to just plop down in our living room with pasta and a bottle of wine. It's much cheaper than a restaurant and at the end of the night we commute to the foyer to escort our guests to the door. Perfect for a lazy weekend. 


Since we are 'New Yorkers', many of our 'New Yorker' friends that are pairs either have incompatible schedules or they are no longer 'New Yorkers' and have moved off to greener pastures. 


We've been entertaining a lot of lone guests.  


It has been fun trying to make our one visitor feel like a singular sensation. We don't have a dining room table and we own one TV tray. Stewart, our little Italian Greyhound, often begs for food while we shout at him to get away from our plates. 


Sometimes it feels like we're practicing for when the grandkids come to visit. We should probably hand folks a $20 bill when they walk out the door.

The Omen

Many people experience that major 'coincidence' that stands out and knocks them over the head. It may come in the form of a deja vu, dream, vision, angel, sentence in a book or something a stranger says in passing. That 'thing' that we stop and go, "OK Universe, I hear you..." It's like the meeting we scheduled with God 10 years ago is finally here. We forgot we set the appointment, He shows up for our one minute one-on-one. We're on line at Starbucks, He just came from derailing a comet.  


I think this is a phenomenon that can come from an instant moment of perspective from a far away view of our own lives. Suddenly, we are looking at a map and see the pattern.  We understand the signal for the next exit. 


This is our life and we are in charge. If we stop giving our choices away to others we might understand these 'signs' come from our guts. Our internal compass, not necessarily a tug on the leash we handed to destiny.


I've had a few of these moments in life. Off the top of my head I believe I have actually seen an "angel", a ghost, a visit from the dead in a dream, an OVERWHELMING feeling of loss later to find out someone had died, examples of ESP and most recently, a clear vision with a soundtrack that arrived when I was meditating.  


ALL of these things can be explained by chemistry in the brain, but isn't it more fun to think we have interesting ways of receiving communications to guide us in life? It kind of takes the pressure off if 'something' else told us what to do.  Palm Reader, Ghost Whisperer, Jon Stewart...  


It seems like it would be easier to just listen to our guts and ignore any judgements or denials. Just do. But... I'm not always sure how to do that. It is almost too simple to go back from nurture and believe in full-on nature, especially with almost every aspect of our lives being man-made in complete collaboration. One would never be able to sustain oneself without the aid of another in today's day and age. If zombies took over the world, would you know how to keep your water and electricity running?


I recently received a message. I'm sure it came from a synapse that fired while I simultaneously digested the last bit of last night's dinner and heard a horn honk outside. I'm going to listen and I'm going to pass it on in all it's simpleness and irony. Maybe you can use it too:


"I'm sorry Jennifer, but you cannot apologize anymore."