Ivory Teeth

Protest Post

I’ve been told to update this thing. (I think I could start every blog post with that line). Tonight, or this morning rather, seemed like as good a night/morning as any. I just got back from the Spectator office and on my walk home I was whistled and smooched at, “Goodnight Mami. I love you.” College. New York City.

Anyway, I was just at the office cranking out the ol’ digital photos for tomorrow’s newspaper: The Columbia Daily Spectator. Actually, the reason I was there so late was due to an influx of PROTEST PHOTOS that I had to edit. That’s right, Wallstreet is still being Occupied. I haven’t been down there yet. To be completely honest it wasn’t really brought to my intention until a friend of mine in Wenham, Massachusetts asked me about it. I didn’t even realize it was still going on; I received a Facebook invitation to join the cause on the day it began way back when. I thought it was mostly a joke and ignored the invitation. Little did I know it would remain mostly a joke but last much longer than anyone had imagined (even Facebook). 

A bunch of Columbia students got together, made some great signs and came up with a few causes and then went down there together. Looking through some of the pictures I saw a kid who I met last year, and recognized him from another protest photo (different protest). I looked into it more and found that if there was a protest on campus, and a picture was taken, this kid would be in it. It’s a hobby, like kareoke is in Korea, or crossword puzzles are for old people. 

I’m planning on going to see what the buzz is all about. I may even come up with a cause. Probably not. My generation is supposed to be apathetic, right? I don’t know. 

In other news: I’m on page 111 of Wuthering Heights, last night’s dinner was a cup of Oren’s coffee and a package of Haribo Frogs, I have 14 more pictures to take before 9:30 AM Film Photography class tomorrow morning, and that’s all for now. If you have a cause for which you’d like me to protest, please do let me know. 

MacBook drama

If I have to hear about how this woman’s daughter needs a MacBook Computa for school cuz she’s gonna have ta do film editin ONE MORE TIME I will go hide under my desk. I really don’t think this woman could be more obnoxious.

Happy Thursday.

Week 4

So, what do you want to know about Vampires…?

or Zombies…?

It’s Official

Office life is pretty square. Carpet squares on the floor, square ceiling tiles, squarey stares from the digital department (why don’t they smile?), cubicles with square computers.

It feels official, that I’m part of the office: “The intern.” That’s me. I could even put it in air quotes if I wanted to be really square and talk about myself in third person. (Phoebe would never do that).

Why so official? Well, I started making a list of Reasons Why, for one thing. (isn’t that enough that I made a list?) Here is what I have so far:

-The hem line of my skirt came undone (classic) so i folded it and scotch-taped the unraveling, dangling thread. 

-I slipped out of the office for a real coffee (Flavia machines may make the Worst Cup of Coffee the Office World has ever had) and found my boss there. I felt a strange mixture of guilt and pride: Yes, I’m skipping out on work, and Yes, I do drink my coffee at the same local as the Boss Woman.

-I can tell you everything about the woman who sits in the office next to my cubicle. Well, everything about her daughter: the Prom Dress Fiasco, the Graduation Shoe Debacle, the Florida Trip Flop, (can you tell I read children’s books for a non-living now?)

-While digging out books in the reprint library I became privy to some serious office gossip. I was just minding my own business, pulling books, when a few ladies barged in and…Uh Uh. You wouldn’t beLIEVE what happened. MmmmHmmm. She did. Uh Huh. I can’t even—No. An I’m like, Gurl. Uh Uh. 

-I was invited to after-work drinks with my supervisor and a few other young ladies in the department. I was “The Intern.” (Phoebe ordered a drink called “The Black Widow” and then another one called “Scurvy” something-or-other. No, it wasn’t a pirate bar).

At this point I just need to clog the toilet, or have my stapler stolen, or spill hot coffee on someone of mediocre importance and then I will really feel like part of the woodwork. 

In non-official life, I walked home from after-dinner drinks in Midtown East, ate some tabouleh and played ukulele. Not a bad unofficial night. 

Two Lists

This is the beginning of a list in two parts.

Why life is great/ When life is great:

-eating a packed lunch in Bryant Park while listening to a famous pianist play his heart out (Junior Mance for those of you interested)

-being able to write this blog while I’m on my iPhone (this phone changes lives)

-babysitting a sleeping child and subsequently raiding the fridge and lounging (whilst being paid!)

-being pooped on by a bird while waiting outside for a friend—but wearing a green/blue dress that hides any poo residue (and being pooped on by a bird is Good Luck)

-sitting in a cubicle all day and overhearing one of the higher-ups in her office make personal phone calls to her husband. (Always exasperated and on edge: “Dante, Dante! I told you- we’re jus goin ta go down there, have some dinner—-I’m going to have a little cocktail. And then we’re gonna go home. No, Dante- I told you- you can’t know everything before we get there. There are goin ta be some surprises, Dante. Thas what people Do when they go out! Thas it. Dante. You jus put on somethin half decent thas all I’m askin”) Note: this is also part of list Two on (most) occasion(s).

The Other List:

-not having air condition

-having to literally be squeezed between people’s armpits while traveling to work. (today my ear was grazing some guy’s shirt sleeve we were so close—and every time the train stopped his underarm would lurch forward into my face)

-having to physically walk into people while trying to cross the street- or try to get from any one place to another in Midtown

-one island, millions and Millions of sweaty New Yorkers. (I’m not even talking about days when the Yankees are playing)

Zombie Dreams

This could be the title for 50% of the stories I’m reading…

It also appropriate for week TWO of the 9-5 life. I’m already exhausted and I’m not even living in a tent and eating hot potatoes in 100+ degree weather with German children. It’s the little things that keep the job interesting—like zombies, banana pudding from Magnolia Bakery, eating that banana pudding at a fountain in front of Radio City Music Hall, and being given jobs that require me to “slug these blues.” 

Not related to work, or zombies (but everything comes back to Zombies these days)—I headed to SoHo straight after work to see Laura Marling perform at Housing Works NYC at the Bookstore Cafe. Incredible performance, and what a crowd! I don’t think I have ever seen a more diverse group of people in one room…and all to see a 21-year-old blonde British waif sing and play guitar. It felt like Noah’s arc, two of every kind—rainbows, rain, sunshine and all. 

Comp to Previous Post

I successfully endured my first book launch meeting. “Endure” really is the correct word here, and not “meeting”, considering the meeting began at 9 AM Tuesday and finished 12:30 PM Wednesday. It was more of a book launch Camp Out. Of course, being the intern, I had only to sit next to my supervisor with my yellow legal pad and make note of all the things I didn’t understand (the list is lengthy). 

I am continually fascinated with language, more often than not I am taken by non-language language, like acronyms or abbreviations. Forget polysyllabic words; I’ll leave those for the more sagacious, lexically-inclined types. It’s true that abbreviations and acronyms can sound more sophisticated than they actually are: therein lies their beauty.

At this Camp Out I kept hearing the word “comp” thrown around. “Would you comp it to The Twilight series?” “We’re comping it to Holes.” “What about the comp?” “Is this comp correct?” Naturally, I wrote “comp” down on my long list of publishing terms I was (in some cases am still) clueless about. (POB, B&T, P&L, F&G, TIP, POS) 

Suddenly it dawned on me. Duh, it’s tots an abbrev for “comparable.” Clearly, I am a publishing natural. 

And then I was asked to “check blues” and just keep an eye out for “widows and orphans” but I could use TMM to help.

No problem…