Wow, so it's been quite some time since I updated. After the wedding, my whole life just turned upside down.
I was accepted into a film program last fall that I was insanely exicted about. Problem was, after visiting with financial aid and talking with the husband, we realized that we just didn't have enough money to survive in the film program. (We're not allowed to work while we attend the program). So we decided to withdrawal and move back to Las Vegas. I can be honest: this idea literally depressed me. I hated my job even more and despised waking up in the morning knowing that in a few weeks I would be back in the place I swore I would NEVER return to. But then my life was turned upside down again.
We got a call from the film program; they were offering us a scholarship to come out to LA. Of course inside I was ecstatic, but very, very wary. What if it didn't work out? What if when we got out here, we ran out of money? Was this the mistake we had saved ourselves from making, only to make it again? Aside from all of those questions, we went back to financial aid and a sort of miracle happened. We ended up with enough money to make it and moved out to LA two days later. We are definitely still scraping by and it's not the magical touristy experience we were looking for, but we are here!!
I AM IN LA. The place I have been dreaming about being in for so long. It's completely overwhelming. During the whole first week of orientation I would get home and fall asleep immediately only to wake up early the next morning for another all day long rules lecture. While I was so happy, I was SO bored. It was such a long week.
Now that it's done, the exciting part starts to happen. I'm filming a short film this weekend and have hopefully set up an interview with a production company on a famous studio lot. (This anonymity is fun).
So my life is totally upside down from where I thought I would be 2 weeks ago. Yet here I am. This year should be pretty interesting.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Your Mother has posted a comment.
My mother has a facebook. In fact, so does my grandfather.
This fact used to annoy me greatly - is NOTHING sacred?!
I spent over a month on heightened alert, watching my profile like a hawk until I realized I could set my privacy settings to do the job for me - Now, Mum & Granddad are free to peruse my page without any danger of discovering my sarcastic status about only having rum in my fridge. (Which is a lie, there's orange juice in there too.)
It's every child's nightmare to have their parents enter into the digital age, but recently I've begun to realize the perks. My mother is famous for hour long phone conversations. and some days, those phone convo's are just what I need. But other days I don't need to hear a 15-minute ramble on what kind of bread she bought at the grocery store.
And that's where facebook comes in. Even better - that's where AIM comes in. (Yep, remember that from Jr. High. Love it. Use it. Really.) Now, instead of countless phone calls throughout the day (including at all hours during work) Mum can hop on the computer to shoot me a quick facebook post, or a quick IM, and whats done is done.
Oh the wonders of the digital age.
This fact used to annoy me greatly - is NOTHING sacred?!
I spent over a month on heightened alert, watching my profile like a hawk until I realized I could set my privacy settings to do the job for me - Now, Mum & Granddad are free to peruse my page without any danger of discovering my sarcastic status about only having rum in my fridge. (Which is a lie, there's orange juice in there too.)
It's every child's nightmare to have their parents enter into the digital age, but recently I've begun to realize the perks. My mother is famous for hour long phone conversations. and some days, those phone convo's are just what I need. But other days I don't need to hear a 15-minute ramble on what kind of bread she bought at the grocery store.
And that's where facebook comes in. Even better - that's where AIM comes in. (Yep, remember that from Jr. High. Love it. Use it. Really.) Now, instead of countless phone calls throughout the day (including at all hours during work) Mum can hop on the computer to shoot me a quick facebook post, or a quick IM, and whats done is done.
Oh the wonders of the digital age.
What Retail Has Taught Me
The one thing that working in retail these past 3 months is patience.
I have learned patience in many different facets. Starting with customers. I know this is the obvious answer. Any job working with the public will lead you to the "customer" who is always right. I have asked a customer if they need help finding a size, they answer no, then proceed to tear apart the stack of shirts I just folded. That part irks me the most. I literally just offered to help but American consumers need help but won't ask for it. So I find myself offering help and rarely getting a response. It honestly makes my day when a customer actually asks for help. My job is much more joyous when I don't have to size pencil skirts every minute of my shift.
The next aspect of patience is learned by my co-workers. I never thought I would find myself in clothing retail. Most of the girls I work with are the stereotype of what I always suspected in woman's retail. Many women who love to talk about the other co-workers and spend a good chunk of their paycheck every week. On the other hand, I have to look at the tempting clothes on sale without purchasing a single item. I am saving every penny just for food and bills. I get frustrated hearing my lovely co-workers whine about how they are so broke but leave their shift with a bulging bag of new merchandise.
And finally, I learn patience because it is just a job I do not truly enjoy. Don't get me wrong, it's not bad. I like being on my feet and interacting with customers (minus the aforementioned issue). But I want to be doing something interesting. I want to feel like I'm contributing to my future. Working in retail pales in comparison to how I would like to feel in my job.
On a separate exciting note, I'm moving to Los Angeles in a week and a half to start a film program. I can't wait to start my internship. Maybe then, even while I'm making copies and answering the phone, I'll feel like I'm contributing to something bigger. We shall see.
I have learned patience in many different facets. Starting with customers. I know this is the obvious answer. Any job working with the public will lead you to the "customer" who is always right. I have asked a customer if they need help finding a size, they answer no, then proceed to tear apart the stack of shirts I just folded. That part irks me the most. I literally just offered to help but American consumers need help but won't ask for it. So I find myself offering help and rarely getting a response. It honestly makes my day when a customer actually asks for help. My job is much more joyous when I don't have to size pencil skirts every minute of my shift.
The next aspect of patience is learned by my co-workers. I never thought I would find myself in clothing retail. Most of the girls I work with are the stereotype of what I always suspected in woman's retail. Many women who love to talk about the other co-workers and spend a good chunk of their paycheck every week. On the other hand, I have to look at the tempting clothes on sale without purchasing a single item. I am saving every penny just for food and bills. I get frustrated hearing my lovely co-workers whine about how they are so broke but leave their shift with a bulging bag of new merchandise.
And finally, I learn patience because it is just a job I do not truly enjoy. Don't get me wrong, it's not bad. I like being on my feet and interacting with customers (minus the aforementioned issue). But I want to be doing something interesting. I want to feel like I'm contributing to my future. Working in retail pales in comparison to how I would like to feel in my job.
On a separate exciting note, I'm moving to Los Angeles in a week and a half to start a film program. I can't wait to start my internship. Maybe then, even while I'm making copies and answering the phone, I'll feel like I'm contributing to something bigger. We shall see.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Home - Sweet - Home
It's been two weeks since I've moved into my new apartment, and I am absolutely delighted with the place. It's the luxury that I could never afford in college, including having my own room AND bathroom.
Somewhere around my junior year I had resigned to the fact that I would never have my own room again. I'd move straight from the cramped student dorms, to a cramped post-college apartment, to eventually getting married. All of which required sharing a room and shutter a closet with an unsuspecting stranger. After spending 17-years of my life having my own room, I mourned the loss of my privacy and uninterrupted closet space.
So, even though I may be spoiling myself a bit too much, I was delighted when I realized I could not only have my OWN room, but also my OWN bathroom at the new place. Now I can scatter makeup and brushes and cotton balls from one end to the other without my roommate ever uttering a sound. (Not that my current roommate, "the Actress" would even care).
Yet, as wonderful as it is to have my own place, I came to a quick realization just how much everything COSTS after the first weekend of settling in ended. Little things I took for granted - like the floor lamp that went home with my roommate, or my university-provided standard college desk, suddenly became "luxury items" after realizing that almost half my "impressive salary" went straight to my rent check.
I've always been a good manager of money, and paid for all of my college bills off of my minuscule part-time student worker paycheck. But I always had the benefit of relying on my student loans to give me one lump sum to pay off my subsidized University housing each semester. Now that I can't put rent on my already overburdened credit card, the necessity of a desk or lighting goes WAY down on the priority list.
Needless to say, I was delighted to find a gem of a desk on Craigslist for only $10! I'd looked at the desk not two weeks before at Ikea, but for a whopping $110 +tax, there was NO WAY I'd be getting it. But with a couple of screws, a little bit of nail glue, and homemade dinner as a bribe, my boyfriend put together my very first desk of my own. WoooHoo!
Now the apartment is almost settled, minus the fact that we have zero decorations and are slipping back into the 1800s and surviving on candlelight. (hey, it cuts the energy bill too - right?) It feels good to finally have a place to call "home" after over 4 years of a slightly flexible definition of "home." Somehow, I'm starting to feel like a grown up - especially with my rent check due in less than 2 weeks.
Somewhere around my junior year I had resigned to the fact that I would never have my own room again. I'd move straight from the cramped student dorms, to a cramped post-college apartment, to eventually getting married. All of which required sharing a room and shutter a closet with an unsuspecting stranger. After spending 17-years of my life having my own room, I mourned the loss of my privacy and uninterrupted closet space.
So, even though I may be spoiling myself a bit too much, I was delighted when I realized I could not only have my OWN room, but also my OWN bathroom at the new place. Now I can scatter makeup and brushes and cotton balls from one end to the other without my roommate ever uttering a sound. (Not that my current roommate, "the Actress" would even care).
Yet, as wonderful as it is to have my own place, I came to a quick realization just how much everything COSTS after the first weekend of settling in ended. Little things I took for granted - like the floor lamp that went home with my roommate, or my university-provided standard college desk, suddenly became "luxury items" after realizing that almost half my "impressive salary" went straight to my rent check.
I've always been a good manager of money, and paid for all of my college bills off of my minuscule part-time student worker paycheck. But I always had the benefit of relying on my student loans to give me one lump sum to pay off my subsidized University housing each semester. Now that I can't put rent on my already overburdened credit card, the necessity of a desk or lighting goes WAY down on the priority list.
Needless to say, I was delighted to find a gem of a desk on Craigslist for only $10! I'd looked at the desk not two weeks before at Ikea, but for a whopping $110 +tax, there was NO WAY I'd be getting it. But with a couple of screws, a little bit of nail glue, and homemade dinner as a bribe, my boyfriend put together my very first desk of my own. WoooHoo!
Now the apartment is almost settled, minus the fact that we have zero decorations and are slipping back into the 1800s and surviving on candlelight. (hey, it cuts the energy bill too - right?) It feels good to finally have a place to call "home" after over 4 years of a slightly flexible definition of "home." Somehow, I'm starting to feel like a grown up - especially with my rent check due in less than 2 weeks.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Put In My Place
Currently, I am sitting in my hotel room in Dallas, Texas. I'm out here to film a documentary and I drove 23 hours with my husband on borrowed money and faith this will work. I'm putting all of my faith in this documentary being something great. So much faith I took out a "parent" loan just to get here.
Though the drive was long, it was very interesting. Driving from LA to Dallas let me see many extremely small towns. I still have no idea what would make someone live in those types of places. I would run away immediately to the city. Ugh. Driving through those towns reminds me of a documentary I saw called, "The Education of Shelby Knox" which is about sex education in a small town. Kids in Lubbock, TX have nothing better to do than have sex and do drugs. Seriously, why would you want that? (No offense to anyone who lives in a small town. I'm just a city girl through and through).
Lately I experienced a bit of stress surrounding my financial situation. I undershot my budget by quite a lot. So I'm sitting here trying to figure out if living off of cheap homemade sandwiches is enough nutrients to get me through an entire day of filming, when I get a metaphorical slap in the face.
While outside discussing the budget with my husband, a random man walks by us. My husband does the courteous thing and asks how he is, and he tells us. He's a very nice late twenties Texan who has his 3 months premature twins in the hospital under intensive care. His boy twin is pulling through like a champ: he's off the ventilator, and other life support with only an IV left. The girl twin, on the other hand, is not doing so well. She is on a respirator because she has a hole in her heart that is causing blood to go into her lungs causing infections. They tried to operate but her heart couldn't take it so they had to stop the surgery. They're going to try again next week, but the respirator that is helping her breathe is also causing infections in the lungs which make surgery more difficult.
This guy not only has two twins in the hospital, but he also has a 10 month old baby now. Here he was walking around outside because he was bored of just sitting in his room. He needed somewhere to go and someone to chat with and here we were. My little worries about sandwiches made me feel extremely selfish. Here is a man probably spending more than he has on saving the lives of his children. It just made me realize in this world, while I freak out and worry about little insignificant things, there are people experiencing true trauma and sadness. I know that we get told this all the time, but it is amazing how powerful it is to get a first hand example.
Let me just say I was put in my place.
Though the drive was long, it was very interesting. Driving from LA to Dallas let me see many extremely small towns. I still have no idea what would make someone live in those types of places. I would run away immediately to the city. Ugh. Driving through those towns reminds me of a documentary I saw called, "The Education of Shelby Knox" which is about sex education in a small town. Kids in Lubbock, TX have nothing better to do than have sex and do drugs. Seriously, why would you want that? (No offense to anyone who lives in a small town. I'm just a city girl through and through).
Lately I experienced a bit of stress surrounding my financial situation. I undershot my budget by quite a lot. So I'm sitting here trying to figure out if living off of cheap homemade sandwiches is enough nutrients to get me through an entire day of filming, when I get a metaphorical slap in the face.
While outside discussing the budget with my husband, a random man walks by us. My husband does the courteous thing and asks how he is, and he tells us. He's a very nice late twenties Texan who has his 3 months premature twins in the hospital under intensive care. His boy twin is pulling through like a champ: he's off the ventilator, and other life support with only an IV left. The girl twin, on the other hand, is not doing so well. She is on a respirator because she has a hole in her heart that is causing blood to go into her lungs causing infections. They tried to operate but her heart couldn't take it so they had to stop the surgery. They're going to try again next week, but the respirator that is helping her breathe is also causing infections in the lungs which make surgery more difficult.
This guy not only has two twins in the hospital, but he also has a 10 month old baby now. Here he was walking around outside because he was bored of just sitting in his room. He needed somewhere to go and someone to chat with and here we were. My little worries about sandwiches made me feel extremely selfish. Here is a man probably spending more than he has on saving the lives of his children. It just made me realize in this world, while I freak out and worry about little insignificant things, there are people experiencing true trauma and sadness. I know that we get told this all the time, but it is amazing how powerful it is to get a first hand example.
Let me just say I was put in my place.
Monday, July 27, 2009
New
This past weekend I finally moved into my new apartment, and that's when it really hit me.
I'm moving to LA.
I've told most of my friends and family back home that I'm "staying" in CA where I "went to school." But really, I'm not. My friends are all within a "comfortable" LA driving distance (read: under 2 hours) but there's no one around to grab dinner with after work, or go out for drinks with on the weekend. I'm completely on my own out here.
I've always been the independent kind of girl who loved the thrill and adventure of picking up and moving somewhere new - I moved to a college a state away where I knew NO ONE for a reason. But I'm starting to realize the older I get that I need the stability of my friends and family close by. I'd love to go out and explore my new city, but only with the comfort of coming home to my best friend or seeing my boyfriend each night for dinner.
This is going to be the kind of growing experience I'll lecture my kid's about when I get older.
Of course, I'm intent on slowly manipulating my friends to get closer and closer. Twixter Two will be moving up North in just a few short weeks and we'll live closer than we have since high school. The next challenge will be to get the boyfriend to move up North after he graduates in December, and then I'll move on to my next victim. ;)
It's time I start making a new life of my own, but it's hard to leave the close-knit college life I spent four years deeply committed to. Sometimes it seems that's all that life is - a constant cycle of making new friends, and leaving the old. I'm ready for the time where friends are friends - regardless of what stage of life we're in.
And as cheesy as it is, an old song from my girl scout days starts ringing through my mind:
"Make new friends, but keep the old. One is silver and the other's gold."
I'm moving to LA.
I've told most of my friends and family back home that I'm "staying" in CA where I "went to school." But really, I'm not. My friends are all within a "comfortable" LA driving distance (read: under 2 hours) but there's no one around to grab dinner with after work, or go out for drinks with on the weekend. I'm completely on my own out here.
I've always been the independent kind of girl who loved the thrill and adventure of picking up and moving somewhere new - I moved to a college a state away where I knew NO ONE for a reason. But I'm starting to realize the older I get that I need the stability of my friends and family close by. I'd love to go out and explore my new city, but only with the comfort of coming home to my best friend or seeing my boyfriend each night for dinner.
This is going to be the kind of growing experience I'll lecture my kid's about when I get older.
Of course, I'm intent on slowly manipulating my friends to get closer and closer. Twixter Two will be moving up North in just a few short weeks and we'll live closer than we have since high school. The next challenge will be to get the boyfriend to move up North after he graduates in December, and then I'll move on to my next victim. ;)
It's time I start making a new life of my own, but it's hard to leave the close-knit college life I spent four years deeply committed to. Sometimes it seems that's all that life is - a constant cycle of making new friends, and leaving the old. I'm ready for the time where friends are friends - regardless of what stage of life we're in.
And as cheesy as it is, an old song from my girl scout days starts ringing through my mind:
"Make new friends, but keep the old. One is silver and the other's gold."
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Marriage, Comic-Con, and Life
Well, long time no see! (Or read I guess)
I am now a married woman. Let me tell you it is a strange experience. I didn't live with my fiance before we got married so adjusting to life with a new person has actually been a truly enjoyable experience. Now the stuff everyone usually wants to hear.
The wedding was amazing. I couldn't imagine having a better time. Of course there were mishaps and mistakes, but there always are. The weather could not have been better for a beach wedding and I felt like a princess. It was a strange feeling to do nothing the day of the wedding. I wasn't allowed to and that went against every fiber in my being. I felt so bad for my fiance (at the time) because he was all stressed and I couldn't do anything to calm him. But seeing his face when I finally got to walk down the aisle made everything ok. He was crying like crazy and it was adorable.
Next was the honeymoon where we went to Walt Disney World. It really was, for lack of a better word, magical. We wore the married Mickey mouse ears ad the whole deal. My favorite part of the whole trip was my fiance's pure child-like belief in all the magic. I know he was pretending, but it truly did make everything so much more fun. In case you were wondering, Disney buffets are the best buffets of man kind.
Now it's back to reality....sort of. I was supposed to attend the illustrious Comic-Con in San Diego but unfortunately something happened when we bought our tickets, thus we never bought them. A mistake was made and my husband and I spent over an hour scouring our email boxes and calling our banks and credit companies trying to prove we bought tickets to no avail. I ended up crying (well more silently bawling) in front of the hundreds of people who walked by as we figured it out. Embarrassing. But I'm over it and will NEVER make a mistake like this again.
And now I'm attempting to figure out how to finance my over budget personal documentary. But since I don't overly want to make decisions now at nearly 3 am, I think it's time for bed.
This was quite the hodge podge of information. More normal blogs will return this week. I have missed this dearly.
I am now a married woman. Let me tell you it is a strange experience. I didn't live with my fiance before we got married so adjusting to life with a new person has actually been a truly enjoyable experience. Now the stuff everyone usually wants to hear.
The wedding was amazing. I couldn't imagine having a better time. Of course there were mishaps and mistakes, but there always are. The weather could not have been better for a beach wedding and I felt like a princess. It was a strange feeling to do nothing the day of the wedding. I wasn't allowed to and that went against every fiber in my being. I felt so bad for my fiance (at the time) because he was all stressed and I couldn't do anything to calm him. But seeing his face when I finally got to walk down the aisle made everything ok. He was crying like crazy and it was adorable.
Next was the honeymoon where we went to Walt Disney World. It really was, for lack of a better word, magical. We wore the married Mickey mouse ears ad the whole deal. My favorite part of the whole trip was my fiance's pure child-like belief in all the magic. I know he was pretending, but it truly did make everything so much more fun. In case you were wondering, Disney buffets are the best buffets of man kind.
Now it's back to reality....sort of. I was supposed to attend the illustrious Comic-Con in San Diego but unfortunately something happened when we bought our tickets, thus we never bought them. A mistake was made and my husband and I spent over an hour scouring our email boxes and calling our banks and credit companies trying to prove we bought tickets to no avail. I ended up crying (well more silently bawling) in front of the hundreds of people who walked by as we figured it out. Embarrassing. But I'm over it and will NEVER make a mistake like this again.
And now I'm attempting to figure out how to finance my over budget personal documentary. But since I don't overly want to make decisions now at nearly 3 am, I think it's time for bed.
This was quite the hodge podge of information. More normal blogs will return this week. I have missed this dearly.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
A Bicycle Built for Me
My co-worker and I have been semi-seriously contemplating riding our bikes to work, being that I'm moving a quarter mile away from her and a "good work out distance" from the office. I've never been much of a bike girl and managed to survive all 4-years of college without ever owning one, but after the horrific 2-month's I've had with my car, it's starting to look promising.
It all started my FIRST WEEK on the job. I was still commuting the hour North into Burbank while living in Orange County, which meant plenty of time sitting on the 5. Lots of sitting. Though, apparently, I didn't do enough sitting because one second I was glancing at my clock and the next I had rear ended a huge SUV.
The SUV walked away with a minor scratch. My car was totaled. Ever want to see a grown man cry? Show my dad the pictures of my accident - he mourned over the loss of the first car he ever bought his baby girl.
So, that left me without a car on my first week of my new job, with an hour commute. The week before I was moving to Burbank. The week before graduation. Days before my extended family was coming in to town. Needless to say I was a bigger wreck than my car.
Eventually I found my perfect car - my pretty blue Nissan Sentra. But getting the car was an even bigger nightmare than the accident. To get it titled, smogged, and registered alone took over 2-months and 4 trips to the DMV! On top of the fact, that after buying it used from a private seller I had mountains of maintenace work to do.
All throughout college anytime I had car problems I raced home to my Daddy. He used to be a mechanic, so I always new he'd take care of whatever my car needed. Which of course included dealing with the incredible lines and ridiculous phone system at the DMV - I never had to worry about anything. But with an accident happening so close to my graduation Dad thought it was finally time for me to grow up - and left me to wade the waters of car ownership on my own. Sure, I learned a lot, but honestly dad - I'm exhausted. Who thought owning a car would be this much work!
Yesterday was the final straw when the DMV threatened to take away my license for being a Nevada licensed driver driving in the state of California. (Yea - I'm serious. Sound ridiculous to you to?) All the calm and responsible arguing I did wouldn't help, nor would emotional outrage, and I finally gave up and called my dad, who promptly called and chewed the DMV out.
If this is how much work being a car owner is, I give up. Give me something with 2 wheels, some ribbons and a basket - I don't want to grow up THAT badly.
It all started my FIRST WEEK on the job. I was still commuting the hour North into Burbank while living in Orange County, which meant plenty of time sitting on the 5. Lots of sitting. Though, apparently, I didn't do enough sitting because one second I was glancing at my clock and the next I had rear ended a huge SUV.
The SUV walked away with a minor scratch. My car was totaled. Ever want to see a grown man cry? Show my dad the pictures of my accident - he mourned over the loss of the first car he ever bought his baby girl.
So, that left me without a car on my first week of my new job, with an hour commute. The week before I was moving to Burbank. The week before graduation. Days before my extended family was coming in to town. Needless to say I was a bigger wreck than my car.
Eventually I found my perfect car - my pretty blue Nissan Sentra. But getting the car was an even bigger nightmare than the accident. To get it titled, smogged, and registered alone took over 2-months and 4 trips to the DMV! On top of the fact, that after buying it used from a private seller I had mountains of maintenace work to do.
All throughout college anytime I had car problems I raced home to my Daddy. He used to be a mechanic, so I always new he'd take care of whatever my car needed. Which of course included dealing with the incredible lines and ridiculous phone system at the DMV - I never had to worry about anything. But with an accident happening so close to my graduation Dad thought it was finally time for me to grow up - and left me to wade the waters of car ownership on my own. Sure, I learned a lot, but honestly dad - I'm exhausted. Who thought owning a car would be this much work!
Yesterday was the final straw when the DMV threatened to take away my license for being a Nevada licensed driver driving in the state of California. (Yea - I'm serious. Sound ridiculous to you to?) All the calm and responsible arguing I did wouldn't help, nor would emotional outrage, and I finally gave up and called my dad, who promptly called and chewed the DMV out.
If this is how much work being a car owner is, I give up. Give me something with 2 wheels, some ribbons and a basket - I don't want to grow up THAT badly.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
A Place to Call Home
The last two month's I've been sleeping on a cot on my boss's floor while I've tried to find an apartment. (It's not as weird as it sounds, his wife is my old professor, so THAT'S why I'm staying there) (not that he doesn't like having a live-in-assistant).
Of course finding a good, cheap apartment in LA is like finding a needle in a haystack. or worse, it's like finding a ONE needle in 5 DOZEN haystacks.
LA isn't like most places - where you strictly have the city and suburbia. In LA there's downtown, the city, the other city, suburbia, suburbia's suburbia - well, you get the picture.
Luckily, I at least had it narrowed down to the Valley so I could stay near work, but I never realized how big of an undertaking apartment shopping is.
I lived the first two years of college in the campus dorms. After a brief stint abroad which involved more hostels than my actual flat, I moved into a campus apartment. More space, more freedom but definitely with all the perks of a college dorm - low rent, furniture provided, and easy financial aid funded payments.
When I found out that I'd be working in Burbank I didn't think it would be THAT hard to find an apartment. But before I found an apartment I had to find a roommate. Then I had to decide exactly WHERE to live. (Burbank? Toluca Lake? Valley Village? Studio City? No Ho?) Help! Even when I got that hammered down it still meant spending lunch hour after lunch hour touring a bunch of crappy places that wanted my soul and then a little more to cover rent. It was a humbling experience.
Eventually my roommate and I found a comfy 2 bedroom, 2 1/2 bath townhome - and it comes with a fridge!!! We put down our deposits this week and will get to move in by the end of the month!
Finally, I thought all the hard stuff was over with, delighted to finally have my own place. We're lucky to have an Ikea close by, which I assumed would take care of all my furniture needs.
Well, you quickly learn how poor you are when Ikea is too expensive for your tastes. So, I've been spending the past two days at work scouring craigslist for cheap furniture finds, praying I can find a mattress that doesn't stink or stain or basically one that doesn't scare me.
I can't wait for the day when I can actually afford to buy my own furniture, because at this point I am so exhausted that all I want is to walk into a furniture store and say - This one. Yep. Ship it to me.
Of course finding a good, cheap apartment in LA is like finding a needle in a haystack. or worse, it's like finding a ONE needle in 5 DOZEN haystacks.
LA isn't like most places - where you strictly have the city and suburbia. In LA there's downtown, the city, the other city, suburbia, suburbia's suburbia - well, you get the picture.
Luckily, I at least had it narrowed down to the Valley so I could stay near work, but I never realized how big of an undertaking apartment shopping is.
I lived the first two years of college in the campus dorms. After a brief stint abroad which involved more hostels than my actual flat, I moved into a campus apartment. More space, more freedom but definitely with all the perks of a college dorm - low rent, furniture provided, and easy financial aid funded payments.
When I found out that I'd be working in Burbank I didn't think it would be THAT hard to find an apartment. But before I found an apartment I had to find a roommate. Then I had to decide exactly WHERE to live. (Burbank? Toluca Lake? Valley Village? Studio City? No Ho?) Help! Even when I got that hammered down it still meant spending lunch hour after lunch hour touring a bunch of crappy places that wanted my soul and then a little more to cover rent. It was a humbling experience.
Eventually my roommate and I found a comfy 2 bedroom, 2 1/2 bath townhome - and it comes with a fridge!!! We put down our deposits this week and will get to move in by the end of the month!
Finally, I thought all the hard stuff was over with, delighted to finally have my own place. We're lucky to have an Ikea close by, which I assumed would take care of all my furniture needs.
Well, you quickly learn how poor you are when Ikea is too expensive for your tastes. So, I've been spending the past two days at work scouring craigslist for cheap furniture finds, praying I can find a mattress that doesn't stink or stain or basically one that doesn't scare me.
I can't wait for the day when I can actually afford to buy my own furniture, because at this point I am so exhausted that all I want is to walk into a furniture store and say - This one. Yep. Ship it to me.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Catching the Bouquet!
Yesterday was the most wonderful day, and now Twixter Two is leaving me to tend the fort for the next week while she's Honeymooning at the Walt Disney World Resort. Congratulations Twixter Two and Hubby!!
Twixter Two and I have been friends ever since sixth grade, which means we've had plenty of opportunity to reminisce about our weddings. Neither of us really had anything planned (though I'm pretty sure I remember her mentioning swans at some point) but we had plenty of time to talk about how it would feel to be wearing that pretty white dress.
It astounds me that Twixter Two is NOW MARRIED!!! I've had my share of weddings (eleven in the past year, 3 of which I was in) however none of them really hit me like the marriage of my childhood best friend. Most of the gals (or guys) I met in college; they were adults from the start so it made sense that they would get married.
But I met Twixter Two when both of us were awkward Jr. High schoolers - I remember when boys had cooties, gossiping about both of our first kisses, and even the day that she and hubby met! and as I was sitting at the bridesmaids table, watching them dance their first dance (Most AWESOME first dance ever) I realized that all of that is about to change. There are no more girlie sleepovers, no more gossip about boys.
I'm at a weird transition in my life. For the majority of my friends, I'm reaching old maid status, since almost everyone was married right out of college - at only 21. (We'll talk about the MRS degree later.) But, for lots of my older friends (and may I say, my parents) 21 is way too young to be married.
The boy and I have been dating for almost a year and nine months, which means I get tossed somewhere in the middle. My married friends want us to be married already, but my single friends think I'm crazy to have dated the same guy for so long. I caught the bouquet at Twixter Two's wedding, which sparked a long, overdrawn convo with the mother about how I'm too young to even think about marriage.
What she doesn't realize is that my life will never be that of a typical 21-year-old. Let alone what she was like when she was 21. There won't be spontaneous road trips with the girls, or nights out partying in LA - because all the girls are now women who have to check with their husbands before planning a night out. Rent in LA is through the roof that I can't afford to keep living on my own, and gas prices kill our hour-and-a-half commute. (He lives in Orange County, not so happy about my move up to LA.)
Of course, I'll end this with the same disclaimer that I gave the mother - it's not like the boy is even THINKING about proposing tomorrow. (Though was shocked when I caught the bouquet since usually it bounces off my folded arms). But that doesn't mean if he does I wouldn't immediately say yes.
So, maybe I should just be happy that the ball isn't in my court; my decision has already been made for me.
Twixter Two and I have been friends ever since sixth grade, which means we've had plenty of opportunity to reminisce about our weddings. Neither of us really had anything planned (though I'm pretty sure I remember her mentioning swans at some point) but we had plenty of time to talk about how it would feel to be wearing that pretty white dress.
It astounds me that Twixter Two is NOW MARRIED!!! I've had my share of weddings (eleven in the past year, 3 of which I was in) however none of them really hit me like the marriage of my childhood best friend. Most of the gals (or guys) I met in college; they were adults from the start so it made sense that they would get married.
But I met Twixter Two when both of us were awkward Jr. High schoolers - I remember when boys had cooties, gossiping about both of our first kisses, and even the day that she and hubby met! and as I was sitting at the bridesmaids table, watching them dance their first dance (Most AWESOME first dance ever) I realized that all of that is about to change. There are no more girlie sleepovers, no more gossip about boys.
I'm at a weird transition in my life. For the majority of my friends, I'm reaching old maid status, since almost everyone was married right out of college - at only 21. (We'll talk about the MRS degree later.) But, for lots of my older friends (and may I say, my parents) 21 is way too young to be married.
The boy and I have been dating for almost a year and nine months, which means I get tossed somewhere in the middle. My married friends want us to be married already, but my single friends think I'm crazy to have dated the same guy for so long. I caught the bouquet at Twixter Two's wedding, which sparked a long, overdrawn convo with the mother about how I'm too young to even think about marriage.
What she doesn't realize is that my life will never be that of a typical 21-year-old. Let alone what she was like when she was 21. There won't be spontaneous road trips with the girls, or nights out partying in LA - because all the girls are now women who have to check with their husbands before planning a night out. Rent in LA is through the roof that I can't afford to keep living on my own, and gas prices kill our hour-and-a-half commute. (He lives in Orange County, not so happy about my move up to LA.)
Of course, I'll end this with the same disclaimer that I gave the mother - it's not like the boy is even THINKING about proposing tomorrow. (Though was shocked when I caught the bouquet since usually it bounces off my folded arms). But that doesn't mean if he does I wouldn't immediately say yes.
So, maybe I should just be happy that the ball isn't in my court; my decision has already been made for me.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Workin' the 9-5
It's only 11:36 AM on a Tuesday and I'm already resorting to blogging at work to make the hours pass by. This is going to be one long week.
I finished up the last of my undergrad units in December, which means I've really been "graduated" for over 6-months now. But, I weaseled my way into taking one more unit of internship, meaning I got to "play student" for another semester and avoid real life. Those six months were SUPPOSED to be my opportunity to find my dream career - namely one that allowed me to wear converses and didn't use the term "9-5" anywhere in my hiring contract.
However, as the months clicked by I got more desperate, so I only managed to land one of my two requisites. Every morning at 8 am I slip on my converse (or rainbows during the glorious summer months) and crawl into work, hitting the kitchen for a strong cup of tea before beginning my day.
I am not a 9 - 5 kind of person. The idea of working the same job, never ending, from 9 am - 5 pm every Monday through Friday has sent me into panic mode on more than one occasion. I'm not adverse to working long hours - in fact, I'd much rather work a 10 or 12-hour day! But the idea of showing up to an office and working the same thing, at the same desk, day after day makes my eyes cross and my mouse gravitate towards facebook.
I'm not the person who can do the same repetitive task day after day. I need something that excites me and challenges me or else my work ethic whittles it's way down to none. Luckily, even though my new job has me chained to my desk every day from 9-5, my boss' intense, high-octane personality gives me some sense of unpredictability.
Nonetheless, I am envious of my fellow graduates who are freelancing and jumping from set to set today. I'd die for a chance to be on location, instead of locked away in an office. Then again, I'd probably die then from lack of nutrition, since production is at an all time low and I wouldn't even be able to make rent. So, in the long run working a 9-5 job won't kill me - as long as it comes with an week-to-week paycheck.
Tick-tock-Tick-tock - Ten Minutes down, and only 31.5 hours left until the weekend.
I finished up the last of my undergrad units in December, which means I've really been "graduated" for over 6-months now. But, I weaseled my way into taking one more unit of internship, meaning I got to "play student" for another semester and avoid real life. Those six months were SUPPOSED to be my opportunity to find my dream career - namely one that allowed me to wear converses and didn't use the term "9-5" anywhere in my hiring contract.
However, as the months clicked by I got more desperate, so I only managed to land one of my two requisites. Every morning at 8 am I slip on my converse (or rainbows during the glorious summer months) and crawl into work, hitting the kitchen for a strong cup of tea before beginning my day.
I am not a 9 - 5 kind of person. The idea of working the same job, never ending, from 9 am - 5 pm every Monday through Friday has sent me into panic mode on more than one occasion. I'm not adverse to working long hours - in fact, I'd much rather work a 10 or 12-hour day! But the idea of showing up to an office and working the same thing, at the same desk, day after day makes my eyes cross and my mouse gravitate towards facebook.
I'm not the person who can do the same repetitive task day after day. I need something that excites me and challenges me or else my work ethic whittles it's way down to none. Luckily, even though my new job has me chained to my desk every day from 9-5, my boss' intense, high-octane personality gives me some sense of unpredictability.
Nonetheless, I am envious of my fellow graduates who are freelancing and jumping from set to set today. I'd die for a chance to be on location, instead of locked away in an office. Then again, I'd probably die then from lack of nutrition, since production is at an all time low and I wouldn't even be able to make rent. So, in the long run working a 9-5 job won't kill me - as long as it comes with an week-to-week paycheck.
Tick-tock-Tick-tock - Ten Minutes down, and only 31.5 hours left until the weekend.
Saturday, July 4, 2009
Just Not That Kind of Girl
So I realized these past few weeks, I'm just not that kind of girl. What kind of you girl you may ask? I'll explain.
I'm not the kind of girl who knew exactly what she wanted for her wedding. I didn't have dresses in mind or locations or cakes. I don't have one of those binders with magazine cut outs of bride's maid dresses.
I just knew I wanted to have fun with my family and friends in a pretty white dress.
So needless to say, this "1-week-left-crunch-time" before my wedding has been a nightmare for me. Everyone calls me to ask me my opinion on plans for the wedding: "Is it ok if this person brings a guest? Do we have tables set? Do we need shuttle drivers? What time should bridal party arrive? Where do guests stay? What are the exact directions to the ceremony location?" And all I want to do is scream back,"I don't care! Just let it happen!" Which is obviously not the appropriate response.
So I have to quietly answer and plan and schedule, when all I want to do is bake some cookies and snuggle on the couch watching Food Network. But alas, weddings don't happen that way.
I cannot wait for my wedding to be done. Don't get me wrong, I'm so excited to get married that it's hard to put into words, but I just wish the stress didn't have to come with the happy occasion. It puts a damper on the who joy when all I can think about is if we have enough chairs and who is going to start the slide show at the right time. I don't understand the brides that become depressed when the ceremony is done because they miss all the planning. I'll miss the moment of the wedding, but definitely NOT the planning.
On a brighter note, I'm just happy I'm with someone who doesn't mind that I'm just not that kind of girl. And I just keep reminding myself that around 7 days exactly from right now, I'll be married and on my way to start my honeymoon. I'll just have to keep visiting my happy place until all this fiasco...I mean wedding is over.
--Twixter Two
I'm not the kind of girl who knew exactly what she wanted for her wedding. I didn't have dresses in mind or locations or cakes. I don't have one of those binders with magazine cut outs of bride's maid dresses.
I just knew I wanted to have fun with my family and friends in a pretty white dress.
So needless to say, this "1-week-left-crunch-time" before my wedding has been a nightmare for me. Everyone calls me to ask me my opinion on plans for the wedding: "Is it ok if this person brings a guest? Do we have tables set? Do we need shuttle drivers? What time should bridal party arrive? Where do guests stay? What are the exact directions to the ceremony location?" And all I want to do is scream back,"I don't care! Just let it happen!" Which is obviously not the appropriate response.
So I have to quietly answer and plan and schedule, when all I want to do is bake some cookies and snuggle on the couch watching Food Network. But alas, weddings don't happen that way.
I cannot wait for my wedding to be done. Don't get me wrong, I'm so excited to get married that it's hard to put into words, but I just wish the stress didn't have to come with the happy occasion. It puts a damper on the who joy when all I can think about is if we have enough chairs and who is going to start the slide show at the right time. I don't understand the brides that become depressed when the ceremony is done because they miss all the planning. I'll miss the moment of the wedding, but definitely NOT the planning.
On a brighter note, I'm just happy I'm with someone who doesn't mind that I'm just not that kind of girl. And I just keep reminding myself that around 7 days exactly from right now, I'll be married and on my way to start my honeymoon. I'll just have to keep visiting my happy place until all this fiasco...I mean wedding is over.
--Twixter Two
Friday, June 26, 2009
Greetings & Introductions, by Twixter Two
Hello Everyone,
I'm Twixter Two.
Now what a 'twixter' is should be addressed somewhere in the beginning of this blog.
My personal definition: one who realizes all too quickly that the responsibilities and harsh reality of growing up sure makes growing up not as awesome as previously thought. (Refer to Time Magazine if you want a more official definition).
As a college freshman, you don't think about the greatness of living off credit between jobs, or working crappy retail because you need seasonal money on top of another disappointing part time job, because that "dream career" isn't quite here yet. No. You think about having your own place, settling down, and magically landing that dream lifestyle that everyone told you was possible if you try hard enough.
I try pretty hard, and I'll tell you I'm still not even close yet.
I am currently in my 5th year of college as a film major. My immediate response is to defensively explain why I'll be taking an extra year to complete college. I usually say, "I changed majors the middle of my sophomore year, so I have some catching up to do. Yes, I did change my major, but that doesn't change the fact I took only 12 units for the past five semesters. I don't regret it; the issues in my life (possibly addressed in a later blog) would have made passing all my classes nearly impossible. But, now I am a super senior. At least I finally found the major I think I love and still maintain a 3.5 GPA.
A few facts about my life:
I'm getting married on July 11 to the most amazing guy I know. We've been dating for about four years now and I am so excited. A lot of my blog will be about how married life affects my school work and career. According to my fellow Twixter Generation, I'm getting married pretty young. (I'm 21.)
My fiance and I were accepted into a film program in L.A. where you participate in a TV/Film internship in Hollywood. I'll be living in good 'ol Los Angeles only a few minutes (in L.A. time) from Twixter One. I don't even have the words to explain how excited I am to be immersed in the world of Hollywood all next semester.
I am currently working on a documentary that I'm hoping will change my life. (At least a little). I am still debating on if I want to talk specifics here since Twixter One and I are still discussing how anonymous we want to keep this blog. I guess it all depends on what we actually blog about.
Well, that's the run down on me, Twixter Two. Hope you enjoy.
I'm Twixter Two.
Now what a 'twixter' is should be addressed somewhere in the beginning of this blog.
My personal definition: one who realizes all too quickly that the responsibilities and harsh reality of growing up sure makes growing up not as awesome as previously thought. (Refer to Time Magazine if you want a more official definition).
As a college freshman, you don't think about the greatness of living off credit between jobs, or working crappy retail because you need seasonal money on top of another disappointing part time job, because that "dream career" isn't quite here yet. No. You think about having your own place, settling down, and magically landing that dream lifestyle that everyone told you was possible if you try hard enough.
I try pretty hard, and I'll tell you I'm still not even close yet.
I am currently in my 5th year of college as a film major. My immediate response is to defensively explain why I'll be taking an extra year to complete college. I usually say, "I changed majors the middle of my sophomore year, so I have some catching up to do. Yes, I did change my major, but that doesn't change the fact I took only 12 units for the past five semesters. I don't regret it; the issues in my life (possibly addressed in a later blog) would have made passing all my classes nearly impossible. But, now I am a super senior. At least I finally found the major I think I love and still maintain a 3.5 GPA.
A few facts about my life:
I'm getting married on July 11 to the most amazing guy I know. We've been dating for about four years now and I am so excited. A lot of my blog will be about how married life affects my school work and career. According to my fellow Twixter Generation, I'm getting married pretty young. (I'm 21.)
My fiance and I were accepted into a film program in L.A. where you participate in a TV/Film internship in Hollywood. I'll be living in good 'ol Los Angeles only a few minutes (in L.A. time) from Twixter One. I don't even have the words to explain how excited I am to be immersed in the world of Hollywood all next semester.
I am currently working on a documentary that I'm hoping will change my life. (At least a little). I am still debating on if I want to talk specifics here since Twixter One and I are still discussing how anonymous we want to keep this blog. I guess it all depends on what we actually blog about.
Well, that's the run down on me, Twixter Two. Hope you enjoy.
Hi, I'm Twixter One
When I was little, all I ever wanted to be was a grown up. I was always described as "mature for my age" and thought talking to the adults was much more fun than playing tag with the kids.
Then one day I woke up with a degree being mailed to my parents house, with no job, no money, and no place to live. I spent the next six-months bumming in my on-campus apartment and living off of my credit card.
I took me five-months to become gainfully employed and another month to find a place that would let me wear my rainbows and converses to work every day if I liked. The fact of the matter is that condition was even more important than health insurance.
So I made the jump and moved an hour North to Burbank, CA where I am currently spending my days working as an executive assistant and my nights sleeping on a cot on an old professors floor. I eat breakfast and lunch out of the company refrigerator and enjoy Wendy's 99 cent menu for dinner.
Hello, may name is Twixter One, and yes, I'm a part of Generation Y.
Hold on, you may pause - what exactly IS a Twixter?
A twixter is a twenty something who basically refuses to grow up. They jump continuously from job to job, they live at their parents house, and never understand the definition of 'cash' because money always comes on plastic.
I never thought I'd become a twixter. Growing up seemed glamorous, exciting. I always dreamed of getting that perfect job straight out of college and moving into that perfect urban apartment. I wanted everything, including the white pickett fence.
Well, I sold the white pickett fence for gas money.
But at least now I'm on my way. I still have more plastic than paper, and I'm beginning to look longingly and gratefully at those squeaky college bunk beds. But I've got a new car (story for a later post), a new city, and a new job.
And as of today, a new blog. Hope you enjoy - I'm sure it'll be a road trip to remember (but not necessarily one to re-try!)
Then one day I woke up with a degree being mailed to my parents house, with no job, no money, and no place to live. I spent the next six-months bumming in my on-campus apartment and living off of my credit card.
I took me five-months to become gainfully employed and another month to find a place that would let me wear my rainbows and converses to work every day if I liked. The fact of the matter is that condition was even more important than health insurance.
So I made the jump and moved an hour North to Burbank, CA where I am currently spending my days working as an executive assistant and my nights sleeping on a cot on an old professors floor. I eat breakfast and lunch out of the company refrigerator and enjoy Wendy's 99 cent menu for dinner.
Hello, may name is Twixter One, and yes, I'm a part of Generation Y.
Hold on, you may pause - what exactly IS a Twixter?
A twixter is a twenty something who basically refuses to grow up. They jump continuously from job to job, they live at their parents house, and never understand the definition of 'cash' because money always comes on plastic.
I never thought I'd become a twixter. Growing up seemed glamorous, exciting. I always dreamed of getting that perfect job straight out of college and moving into that perfect urban apartment. I wanted everything, including the white pickett fence.
Well, I sold the white pickett fence for gas money.
But at least now I'm on my way. I still have more plastic than paper, and I'm beginning to look longingly and gratefully at those squeaky college bunk beds. But I've got a new car (story for a later post), a new city, and a new job.
And as of today, a new blog. Hope you enjoy - I'm sure it'll be a road trip to remember (but not necessarily one to re-try!)