offbalance: (carrie don't look by saava)
Firstly, happy birthday to [livejournal.com profile] rhinoplastique. There are only a finite number of truly good men in this world, and you're definitely in their numbers. I hope you have a really great birthday!

Also, I'm really sorry that a minor miscommunication and some bad timing prevented me from hanging with [livejournal.com profile] jackalprey & Katja this weekend. I am hoping we can plan something else, very soon!

I'm currently having a lot of thoughts about this whole Lehman Brothers/Bear Stearns/Merrill Lynch thing, too.

When I decided to go to the University at Albany, it was originally to be a business major. I didn't think there was any way to support myself via the arts, so I decided that I was going to get into the business program and get myself a golden ticket to the good life. This idea fell apart during orientation, when I realized that I would have been absolutely miserable there, and decided that I was going to be part of Albany's Writing Sequence instead. This and the journalism and history minors I pursued wound up being not only much more satisfying, but also valuable to me in the long run. But for years, I found a small part of me bitterly regretting my choice of not forcing myself into a life of finance and accounting (generally when I was looking at my paycheck). Of course, my tune has been a very different one the last few weeks.

Of course I was jealous of these people. Their weekly take-home was closer to my entire month. They could afford things that I could only dream of. Their bank accounts and wallets were fat, with bonuses that resembled my yearly salary. I was just trundling along on my little publishing salary (not bad, compared to some in the industry, but it's not as much as some others were making), and did the best I could to get by, save a little, and keep to my budget. Still, as of today, I have one thing many of them do not have.

My job. (at least for now).

I have no idea how all of this fallout is going to affect publishing, mind you. It's a different world than it was in 1929 or 1987, or even 1991 (the year that Drexel Burnham Lambert failed). I'm going to hope not too much, though I'm sure that many of those who got canned in the last 24 hours are probably deciding that they're going to now write The Great American Novel because being a writer is like, so cool. *eyeroll* Or I could be totally off base on this one, as I really, honestly don't have many friends in that business sector. It's just been eye-opening for me, since I always viewed that industry as a yellow-brick-road to a life of leisure, and it turns out that a lot of it was smoke and mirrors. Or at least that's how it looks to someone who never took a single finance class in her life. I just can't believe that the entire time I thought I'd been going down a foolish path, I really wasn't at all. I thought it would be okay if I were miserable if I were rich, but all I would have now is misery. Or I'd be miserable with a decent cushion of a bank account to live on as I dealt with things. I don't know.

[livejournal.com profile] tehdawgfather was brave enough to ask what all of this means, and one of the commentors recommended an episode of This American Life I've had on my ipod for awhile (I'm so behind on my podcasts it isn't even funny). I guess I'm going to pay attention to that for the bigger picture (and perhaps ask Tim if he can explain some of this to me as well)

I guess my rambling point is that I guess you can't take anything for granted. There's no saying that someone could be an unsuccessful in art or successful in business just because that's what seems more logical. For all I know, I could actually do quite well for myself if I just stopped procrastinating and actually finished writing something and sold it. And I could have lasted a few months in some high-level finance gig before losing my shit entirely and getting a job at Duane Reade.

I think I've had a little adjustment of my world view today, and I'm going to keep thinking about what it means.
offbalance: (carrie don't look by saava)
Firstly, happy birthday to [livejournal.com profile] rhinoplastique. There are only a finite number of truly good men in this world, and you're definitely in their numbers. I hope you have a really great birthday!

Also, I'm really sorry that a minor miscommunication and some bad timing prevented me from hanging with [livejournal.com profile] jackalprey & Katja this weekend. I am hoping we can plan something else, very soon!

I'm currently having a lot of thoughts about this whole Lehman Brothers/Bear Stearns/Merrill Lynch thing, too.

When I decided to go to the University at Albany, it was originally to be a business major. I didn't think there was any way to support myself via the arts, so I decided that I was going to get into the business program and get myself a golden ticket to the good life. This idea fell apart during orientation, when I realized that I would have been absolutely miserable there, and decided that I was going to be part of Albany's Writing Sequence instead. This and the journalism and history minors I pursued wound up being not only much more satisfying, but also valuable to me in the long run. But for years, I found a small part of me bitterly regretting my choice of not forcing myself into a life of finance and accounting (generally when I was looking at my paycheck). Of course, my tune has been a very different one the last few weeks.

Of course I was jealous of these people. Their weekly take-home was closer to my entire month. They could afford things that I could only dream of. Their bank accounts and wallets were fat, with bonuses that resembled my yearly salary. I was just trundling along on my little publishing salary (not bad, compared to some in the industry, but it's not as much as some others were making), and did the best I could to get by, save a little, and keep to my budget. Still, as of today, I have one thing many of them do not have.

My job. (at least for now).

I have no idea how all of this fallout is going to affect publishing, mind you. It's a different world than it was in 1929 or 1987, or even 1991 (the year that Drexel Burnham Lambert failed). I'm going to hope not too much, though I'm sure that many of those who got canned in the last 24 hours are probably deciding that they're going to now write The Great American Novel because being a writer is like, so cool. *eyeroll* Or I could be totally off base on this one, as I really, honestly don't have many friends in that business sector. It's just been eye-opening for me, since I always viewed that industry as a yellow-brick-road to a life of leisure, and it turns out that a lot of it was smoke and mirrors. Or at least that's how it looks to someone who never took a single finance class in her life. I just can't believe that the entire time I thought I'd been going down a foolish path, I really wasn't at all. I thought it would be okay if I were miserable if I were rich, but all I would have now is misery. Or I'd be miserable with a decent cushion of a bank account to live on as I dealt with things. I don't know.

[livejournal.com profile] tehdawgfather was brave enough to ask what all of this means, and one of the commentors recommended an episode of This American Life I've had on my ipod for awhile (I'm so behind on my podcasts it isn't even funny). I guess I'm going to pay attention to that for the bigger picture (and perhaps ask Tim if he can explain some of this to me as well)

I guess my rambling point is that I guess you can't take anything for granted. There's no saying that someone could be an unsuccessful in art or successful in business just because that's what seems more logical. For all I know, I could actually do quite well for myself if I just stopped procrastinating and actually finished writing something and sold it. And I could have lasted a few months in some high-level finance gig before losing my shit entirely and getting a job at Duane Reade.

I think I've had a little adjustment of my world view today, and I'm going to keep thinking about what it means.
offbalance: (amalthea by antheia)
I've been reading The Bell Jar this week, for the first time. I'm very nearly done, and if I really give it 100%, I'll be done with it by the end of today. Not sure if that'll happen, but I want to be done by the time I see Carly tomorrow. She's read it a couple of times, and I love it when I can discuss books with her. (It's also a freebie I got at work, a very heavy large print edition that I'd be very happy to be done carrying around).

a few musings on the book, some spoilerish )

I've also been on a major Tori kick lately. Tori, and Ben Folds and Joe Jackson. Now, resident Joe Jackson expert [livejournal.com profile] quodlibetic may either agree or come after me with an axe for this, but I've been amazed after re-listening to Night and Day and then Whatever and Ever, Amen and Rockin' the Suburbs again how similar Ben and Joe are stylistically - they have similar senses of humor and can write equally strong melodies. Plus, sometimes I think their voices sound somewhat alike at times. I'd LOVE to hear them duet on something. Like "Real Men," or "Breaking Us in Two" or something.

But yeah, Tori Tori Tori. I was listening to Little Earthquakes on my way to meet mom & [livejournal.com profile] quasisonic last night and it felt fresh. Not new, since I still know every word of every song (I think), but it felt exciting to listen to again, which is nice. I always loved that album.

Most disturbingly, I keep having flashes of odd moments of Albany. Like walking up that stretch of gravel parking lot near the humanities building facing the campus center, in early spring, just after the rain. I smelled that place the other day somehow, and when I closed my eyes I could picture it, plain as day. Also the bus stop at the new library and Collins Circle, same time of year, on a foggy day with damp air and a light grey sky, the air permeated with a wet grass smell.

Two days ago right before I went to sleep I sat on my bed and had a very potent memory of it being finals week or reading day, and being at Kurver Kreme on Central avenue, and how the trees looked and the air smelled. How am I remembering how the air smelled? It's so strange. But it's not disturbing, it's almost peaceful.

I wish I could figure out what my brain is trying to tell me, if anything.
offbalance: (amalthea by antheia)
I've been reading The Bell Jar this week, for the first time. I'm very nearly done, and if I really give it 100%, I'll be done with it by the end of today. Not sure if that'll happen, but I want to be done by the time I see Carly tomorrow. She's read it a couple of times, and I love it when I can discuss books with her. (It's also a freebie I got at work, a very heavy large print edition that I'd be very happy to be done carrying around).

a few musings on the book, some spoilerish )

I've also been on a major Tori kick lately. Tori, and Ben Folds and Joe Jackson. Now, resident Joe Jackson expert [livejournal.com profile] quodlibetic may either agree or come after me with an axe for this, but I've been amazed after re-listening to Night and Day and then Whatever and Ever, Amen and Rockin' the Suburbs again how similar Ben and Joe are stylistically - they have similar senses of humor and can write equally strong melodies. Plus, sometimes I think their voices sound somewhat alike at times. I'd LOVE to hear them duet on something. Like "Real Men," or "Breaking Us in Two" or something.

But yeah, Tori Tori Tori. I was listening to Little Earthquakes on my way to meet mom & [livejournal.com profile] quasisonic last night and it felt fresh. Not new, since I still know every word of every song (I think), but it felt exciting to listen to again, which is nice. I always loved that album.

Most disturbingly, I keep having flashes of odd moments of Albany. Like walking up that stretch of gravel parking lot near the humanities building facing the campus center, in early spring, just after the rain. I smelled that place the other day somehow, and when I closed my eyes I could picture it, plain as day. Also the bus stop at the new library and Collins Circle, same time of year, on a foggy day with damp air and a light grey sky, the air permeated with a wet grass smell.

Two days ago right before I went to sleep I sat on my bed and had a very potent memory of it being finals week or reading day, and being at Kurver Kreme on Central avenue, and how the trees looked and the air smelled. How am I remembering how the air smelled? It's so strange. But it's not disturbing, it's almost peaceful.

I wish I could figure out what my brain is trying to tell me, if anything.

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