What am I?

When can you finally consider yourself to be a New Yorker? Is it when you sign up for that first Duane Reade card? Is it when a tourist singles you out of a crowd to ask for directions? How about when it takes 6 weeks to book an appointment with a new doctor? According to the NYS Department of Labor, I considered myself to be a New Yorker when I called their 888 number in order to enroll in their $405 a week unemployment benefits program instead of my native state of Pennsylvania's $547.

In addition to taking an (unemployment) pay cut, being a transplant from another city isn't easy. I have to deal with boo's when I don a Rollins T-shirt and confused faces when I ask for wooder ice with my hoagie.

But there are perks for those of us who retained our out of state id's - out of towner savings. I'm not gonna lie to you, I look really hot in my hologram emblazoned drivers license. I'm gonna rock that baby everywhere I can till' PenDot says no more. At Macy's in Herald Square I can save 11% with my non local ID. Comes in handy when I need to make summertime interview outfit shopping more affordable.

Think like the carpet bagger you truly are and even more thrifty opportunities will present themselves. Want to see a stage filled with A-list talent but TKTS is still too pricey? Stroll by The Ed Sullivan theater or 30 Rock and a Page could offer you free tickets to a late night talk show. Beats waiting months for a ticket reserved by calling the audience coordinator. You will probably start your new job the day to finally claim your seats rolls around anyway. Or, if you are like me, your next gig.

I've cast a show here and there in the past few months. So my dilemma is, when I network do I say "I am a freelancer" or "I am unemployed?" Initially, post pink, I suffered the inability to say I was "laid off." The L would stick to the roof om my mouth as if there was organic peanut butter on it. But now there is something totally cool about being in the scary 9% statistic. Newspapers want to interview you and the foreign media wants to film you. Wearing scrunchies n' sweats outside the house becomes excusable and people read your blog. It's a hard thing to give up.

Mostly it's just scary. Because if you do finally consider yourself to be a freelancer, it means you have settled into a new career that requires a lot of self discipline. Unions exist to support your endeavors. Are you ready to change your lifestyle? Try this test. If you can say "I am a freelancer" with a genuine smile on your face, congratulations. You proved the cliche 'everything happens for a reason' to be right.

Electric Feel

Black Betty was my baby.  When I first carefully took her home all strapped in and bundled up, I felt all the responsibilities of a grownup.  Feeding her cookies byte by byte, I scrolled through job boards and uploaded pictures from my phone onto a new awesome website called Myspace (which my friends predicted would soon make Friendster a thing of the past).  After 9 months of paying off my Best Buy Credit Card balance, she officially became the most expensive item I have ever purchased.  
 
Black Betty was my laptop, and after I was laid off, she went from being used 3 hours a day to 14.  For a computer that's like going from living in dog years to dragon fly months.  The wear and tear showed.  She was running slowly even after I deleted space consuming files and steered clear of NSFW sites (althought that dog pooping on a baby was pretty funny).  My wrists wore dull spots into the silver enamel below the keyboard.  Yet it was the crackle and pop of a sizzling motherboard that finally snapped me out of denial.  The end was near. 

I turned my back to Black Betty, getting a flash drive to transfer all my files into.  256MBs of storage in hand, I turned back around and watched as she prepared to hibernate only to never restart again.
 
Three and a half years of memories being lost was the least of my concerns.  A laptop is a necessity to the unemployed.  It is our mobile office and cheap line of mass communication to friends im'ing or g-chatting it up from their stationary cubicles.  Rather than throwing my cash away on Internet cafes when I am already paying for wireless in my apartment, I had a local Geek Squad confirm Black Betty's expiry and immediately went back to Abington to get a new laptop for less taxes.  In 18 interest free months of payments, she will be mine.
 
Unfortunately, this means that the other items on my wish list (a new bed, bike, month long Spanish/surfing immersion course in Costa Rica and tickets to baseball games) will all have to be put on hold.  Those are all things that I don't immediately need and can save hundreds on by seeking out coupons, sales, teacher discounts (via mom/Irene) and friends company seats.  Always check to see if you can get one of the above before making a costly purchase.  Times are tough and establishments are luring consumers in with incentives to buy things they otherwise wouldn't.  Feel free to use that saved money to stimulate the economy splurging on something else (like newly a reduced COBRA health plan).
 
With my old cluttered motherboard wiped clean I can start fresh all over again. I'm hoping to use my new laptop, which still remains nameless, to launch my new career as a tri-lingual writer/freelance reality television casting producer. 
 
Please take this opportunity to grab hold of a flash drive and save all the important information housed in your computer that you will never get back if it suffers an electrical implosion.  Don't make my mistake in the future.  Back it up now.

Volver

Hansel: So I'm rappelling down Mount Vesuvius when suddenly I slip, and I start to fall. Just falling, ahh ahh, I'll never forget the terror. When suddenly I realize "Holy shit, Hansel, haven't you been smoking Peyote for six straight days, and couldn't some of this maybe be in your head?"
Derek Zoolander: And?
Hansel: And it was. I was totally fine. I've never even been to Mount Vesuvius.
 
"So, does it feel weird?"
 
During the week long return to my old job (which I was laid off from) I got asked that question a lot.  The answer?  Kind of.  Upon arrival I retraced old footsteps to the printer, soda machine and floor to ceiling windows overlooking Times Square, feeling like I had just woken up from a vivid dream induced by a trip to a daiye spa.
 
Then a naked occupant of the hotel across from my building waved at me and I realized that nothing since December 4th, 2008 had been a dream.  This was still my old co-workers reality and I was crashing it like I crashed SNL parties back in the 'lost year'. Sadly, I was too busy casting my heart out to really enjoy catching up with them over my recession friendly lunches of leftovers, hidden deep within the fridge in all their tupperware glory.
 
I knew returning would feel slightly bizarre but didn't hesitate when accepting the temporary position.  I left that office on good terms with the hope that I could return in some capacity.  In this economy it is silly to pass on the opportunity to remind your former employer what an asset you can be.
 
Unfortunately I'm considered more of a luxury item than an asset in my industry.  Any producer worth their salt can do my job.  But usually, they're too swamped with locking locations and drafting scripts to devote 100% of their time to finding the best quality talent out there.
 
That's where I come in, working around the clock through rain and 72 degree shine.  I actually began to pity myself for having to labor indoors during a beautiful day last week.  But I checked myself as the words from my friend Veeders underemployment blog flashed through my mind - "I won't complain.  I can't complain."  I had a job, something which makes gorgeous days off spent biking by the ocean that much more rewarding.  In unemployment land, unfulfilled days blend together inconsequentially regardless of the weather.
 
Another downside to having such a hectic freelance job is you don't have time to look for a new one.  So the second it ends, you are left dog-tired and jobless. After catching up on your sleep, exercise and everything recorded on your DVR, you go back to taking sunny days for granted - opting to stay indoors job hunting, hoping to work again.
 
So don't fear going back to an old employer that wants you.  Should you feel out of place upon return acknowledge that the feeling is all in your head.  Keep yourself busy doing what you were brought back in for without shame.  Under the equalizing fluorescent office lights, you are just another person doing your job. 

Other NYC Benefits

You know times are tough when even billionaires are taking advantage of inexpensive things. While getting my namaste on at Yoga to the People, (a Yoga studio with free but "donation suggested" classes at locations all around Manhattan), I noticed an Olsen twin slouched on a mat by the wall. Abiding by the unspoken rule of NYC that celebrities are to be seen and not acknowledged, I placed my mat just far away enough to look like I didn't care/sneak glances at her skinny legs.

Hopefully she donated the recommended $10 to compensate for those of us who can barely afford shelling out $2.

While embarking on my second donation funded activity this past weekend, a guided bike tour through Brooklyn, I learned about another star who enjoys having some fun for next to nothing. Apparently Bill Murray is wandering into random house parties and establishments around the city, initiating odd conversations, then walking away. I'm strongly considering buying three cases of Natty Light and inviting 20 of my closest friends over to my apartment to see if he will show up. My Mr. Belding singing karaoke in a Gristedes basement story is getting old. So is the one about my run in with Paul Rudd on a C train a few years back.

I won't be running into him on the subway anytime soon though. In case you missed it, Patrick McGeehan did a great job of explaining how I'm saving money by swapping the train for Murray (my bike who was donated to me by Stacey Burgay under the condition that I too will one day recycle it). Props to Ruby Washington, the soon to be vegan photographer for the NY Times for making me look good!

Anyway, no matter what your cheap fix may be, it's a slight bonus on top of the new extra $25 to be unemployed in a city where you may not even have to leave your own overpriced apartment for an invaluable, twitter-worthy celeb encounter.

This One's For My Homies

I've lost a few friends over the years. Heart attack, car crash, leukemia... and that was all before I turned 18. Home for Passover, I was going through my bat-mitzvah album and it hit me where I got my "life is short and so am I" mentality. Peers in those photos who had passed were athletes, writers and genuinely good people that never had a chance to pursue their dreams. I wanted their spirit to live on in every risk I took.

Always eager to take on that next risk, I left Abington a few months early to start college. Next, I traded 8 sheltered months in Happy Valley to jump-start my career with an internship in New York. A few months before being handed a diploma, I was already back in NY trying to launch my career in TV. The day after being handed my diploma? I was in "pizza school" (located in a dreary restaurant basement) getting certified to serve bread sticks at Pizzeria Unos on 81st and Columbus.

Enter my mentor Kim. About 9 years my senior, she sympathized with my struggle and set me up on a few (unsuccessful) job interviews, then counseled me over cheap pints on how to rock the next one. "She was a risk taker that made it" I thought to myself. And when I learned she had committed suicide a few months into our bonding I almost resigned myself to a simpler life managing a Wawa's in Abington.

But I didn't. I needed to keep taking chances for those who couldn't.

This week I'm temporarily returning to mtvU to work on my favorite pro-social campaign - Half of Us. As someone who suffered a severe anxiety disorder in college, I'm adding 20% to my usual 110% to get the job done right. Towards the end of my Freshmen year, I was too afraid to let others know how panicked I constantly felt at the thought of leaving my dorm room. From my bed I looked out the screen window at others sprawled out and laughing on the grassy lawn below- trying to figure out how to get myself back to 'normal'. Those were the darkest days of my life. Now I have a chance to help others find the light.

In the future I'll keep doing what I'm doing till I can't any longer. Crippling autoimmune diseases that took relatives away from me are lurking in my genetics, ready to pounce whenever they say so. Until then, I'm writing for my Aunt Faye, who won prizes for her essays and succumbed to Parkinsons last year. I'll run for my Grandma Ruthie because she stayed active until scleroderma took her ability to walk. I'll work hard because I had friends that never had the opportunity to relish their first paycheck and I'll play hard, surfing into sunsets because I still have the 20/20 vision to see them with.

In the Jewish religion, when someone dies, mourners are not supposed to shower or bathe for a week. Customarily, grievers will sit on the floor to symbolize the heart wrenching actuality of loosing someone dear to them. It's kind of like the second phase of unemployment (described 2 blogs below), except you can always get a new job. You can't replace someone you love.

So to my friends of the past and present, thanks for shaping who I will be in the future. Your comments and e-mails have been a huge boost when it's hard to stay positive. I'll continue to be a living yahrtzeit candle, shedding brightness during gloomy times in honor of those both still here and no longer with us. I'm in it for the love of the game, it's outta here.

Just Do It

I'm not alone in my unemployment blogging. There are thousands of us roaming the web. We all seem to have the same things to say about the initial shock and inevitable frustration that comes with getting laid off. But when it comes to the sex lives of the unemployed, the recession seems to be affecting us in many different ways.

When I first moved to New York I lived like I thought I should - drinking regularly, smoking in bars and crashing celebrity packed hangouts by night. My friends were all bartenders/struggling entertainers who kept me drunk and apathetic to the fact that I was without a real job. It took it's toll on my pale bloated body but the dark lighting of dive bars must have been forgiving. Somehow, despite the extra baggage on my belly and under my eyes, men found me attractive enough to take me home.

I call this period, "My Lost Year."

As Uggs were giving way to Skinny jeans my tab free nights turned into temp filled days. 8am starts forced me to go to sleep sober at earlier hours. Most of the week at least. Eventually the temping stopped and I began my "real career" as a casting assistant for reality TV. Boys fell by the wayside as I became involved a serious relationship with work. I chased 12 hour days with quick sessions at the gym while managing to squeeze in the time to find a whole new group of friends that made me realize there was a much more sane way to live my life (while still having of fun).

Then I was given the pink slip - my ticket to once again live on the rowdy side. Living without the structure a full time job provides has caused me to fall back into a lifestyle... That I'm withholding the details of because my mom reads my blog and my dad recently learned how to Google. So I'll just have to write about "other" people.

I've been reading a lot of columns about jobless folk in relationships either too ashamed to have sex or too depressed to take their sweatpants off. On the flip side, there are couples putting the Trojan CEO's kids through college because they feel they have to prove something to themselves or their partner. Unemployed pairs are frequently providing quotes such as "we are doing it more because all we have is each other." I believe the situation varies depending on the status of the relationship and how they view the other (friend, provider, nuturer, etc). No two couples are the same, but outdated studies from the Great Depression have shown that if you're seriously involved, you'll probably be getting it less.

For those not in a relationship, once the hibernation period ends recession victims are having it more often because they don't have to worry about waking up at any particular time, enjoy fleeting ego boosts, can't afford the gym and need to workout anyway they can, it's Friday! (or Tuesday?)... I could go on. But unfortunately -if you are looking for more than just a ...buddy- I've found most of these scenarios don't turn into anything serious. Much like the interviewer who never calls back - if the texts cease to exist they're just not that into you. This can be a serious blow to the self esteem of someone who is already down and out.

My advice? Avoid seedy ads on Craigslist seeking buxom 20-30 year old women with or without experience - I really hope you don't need money that badly. But keep living your life optimistically and don't feel bad about anything you have or have not done. Stay focused on how you are going to get yourself out of the rising 8.5% and remember to keep it safe.

The 5 Stages of 'Severance'

Knit one, pearl two, newly laid off AIG friend, this one's for you...

The 5 Stages of 'Severance'

Shock
Even if you have been preparing yourself mentally for months, actually getting hit with the bad news will sting like a mother.  As you are guided through the HR process of finding out your individual severance package and putting your picture frames into a box, your mind shuts down while your body goes into autopilot to prevent a security guard from having to escort you out of the building. 
 
It is hard to be in denial when you discover that your computer has been locked before you even had a chance to update your facebook status to 'axed.'  But, it is easy to mentally detach yourself until you can physically attach your lips to a frosty beer/shot/mixed drink/keg...

Self Medication

While you may not want to deal with co-workers who are still employed, let them buy you a damn drink.  They aren't the cause of your current situation and they honestly want to help out any way they can.  They may not be able to get you a new job, (hell, they may not have one soon either) but they can buy you a round to help numb your pain.
 
If you don't feel like you can cry your eyes out to them, even after that 3rd shot of whiskey on an empty stomach, speed dial your favorite 'therapist' and just let it all out.  Whether it is your grandparents, best friend, diary or actual shrink you are entitled to wail and whine to them until you have a headache from all the events of the day truly setting in.

The healthiest medication is a butt kicking workout. You will get an amazing high from knowing that you can chase down your old boss and “make an impromptu presentation using a four pronged approach” (hit them with a chair). Just kidding, but I do reccommend trying new classes as it opens your mind up to new things.

Hangover

Your eyes are puffy, body sore and your head is a jumbled mess.  You know the saying "nothing good happens after 2am?"  Well nothing good happens after you were just handed a pink slip.  
 
This is no time to start your job hunt – hiring managers will smell your desperation along with the alcohol sweating out your pores.  This is a time to wallow in your misery (sans pants and alarm clock) like a hermit.
 
If you try to jump into a new career immediately you may regret it soon after.  It's kind of like getting dumped by a significant other.  You rarely want to marry the first person you meet at a bar the next night.  Take some time to figure out what you just lost and what you want to find so you don't get stuck in a job you hate.
 

Hope

One day you finally wake up with a sense of optimism.  Like a Visa commercial come true, you open your eyes and see that you are free to GO. Do whatever you want as long as your wallet allows.  You can start your own business.  You can go on a vacation (taking advantage of the special rates for the newly jobless).  You can even aprender espanol :)
 
Get on those job site boards and research new career paths you have always been curious about but too hesitant to ditch your 401k for.  Have your friends look over your updated resume and compliment you on what you have accomplished to bolster your confidence before interviews.  Alert references you would like to use them and see if they have anything for you to work on as well.

Lastly, make yourself some business cards for all the networking events you are obligated to accompany your pink slip posse to.  Never know who you are going to meet!

Frustration

All the planning in your Hope phase seemed like fun didn't it?  You went to Barnes and Noble and researched that genius startup idea that popped into your head while visiting a gallery a networking event was held in. You even took that tropical vacay to temporarily escape reality and regroup.
 
But 4 months later your tan has faded along with your hopes of ever working again.  Leads go nowhere, resumes are sent out unanswered, business schemes prove too unrealistic... Despite all the steps you've taken to further yourself you feel stuck in the same place.

Just realize that you are actually miles ahead of where you used to be.  You are now a stronger person - a great asset to any operation because you are hungry to succeed and have new skills you would have never learned if you were still working the same old 9:30am-8pm days. 
 
It is harder out there than it may seem to those not in your place. Try not to let the frustration keep you from acting irrationally. Embrace your role as the unemployed friend trying to get back in the game.  Recognize you are not alone in what you are going through, that it's not the end of the world. Then go cycle back to the Hope phase, fingers crossed, this time for good!

Estoy Aburrido

If a tree falls in the woods and nobody is around to hear it, does it make a sound?
 
I am so bored.
 
And now that severance has given way to unemployment I cannot afford to mess around and do fun things with all my free time.  No more staycations filled with Broadway shows and 5 hour bike rides.  No more trekking to foreign beaches and meeting new people on roads paved in molasses.  That's not fiscally possible if I want to afford COBRA, rent, a metro card (when necessary), gym membership, food, social life and bridesmaid dresses.
 
Don't be jealous because I'm not stuck in a fluorescent lit office all day.  I'm full time job hunter.  I'm chained to my charged phone and laptop - which is frightfully showing signs of old age.  Tasks include constantly scanning websites that post openings and take them down soon after due to an overwhelming response to their ad.  You need to get your resume in there before they decide they have seen enough.  And - if an employer responds via e-mail you have about an hour to get back to them before they decide to bring someone else in. Don't even get me started on the Mandy.com resume uploader...
 
Sensing my weariness yet?
 
Imagine going to work everyday and not getting acknowledged for anything you do.  I research, draft, revise and send letters nonstop (between coffee break walks) just waiting to hear back from somebody. It's a thankless job and I'm just hoping to get noticed.  I'm about to send a dead worm in a white envelope to a production company along with my business card.  Worked for Maggie Gyllenhal.
 
But it's not just getting feedback that I yearn for.  I miss being involved in social office activities like discussing professional sports.  I used to know who was injured or traded to my favorite teams and I could share that information with other people - who hated my teams and wished them physical harm.  Still, it's much easier to care about something when you have people to share it with.  Last year I had two Superbowl boxes and a March Madness bracket.  This year I have Danno texts (keep em comin) and watch Sportscenter alone on the treadmill.
 
On craigslist, I noticed a fresh faced and already frustrated college grad that is offering a $400 finders fee to someone who gets her an interview that leads to a job.  I think that is a GREAT idea. I'm currently trying to save my cash, but if anybody reading this has a job lead that turns into a paycheck for me, I'll compensate you with a drawing of a spider.

One side project I've been busying myself with is the Astoria Film Group (AFG). It's a random group of locals that want to have fun and stay creative. We make the mini projects in our minds come to life while networking and learning new camera, editing and lighting skills. I've been named Casting Director of the group. So if you want to get some high quality footage for your reel for free, lemme know.
 
So despite not hearing back about anything and only talking to people via IM/Google messenger I'm keeping busy.  But it gets frustrating, old and boring quickly.  If you ask me what I did all day I'll probably say 'same old' rather than throwing my hands up in defeat.  Because even if I wrote 29 cover letters and created a new design for my professional website without any acknowledgement,  I would still like to think I made some noise.

I wanna dance.

I exist because my parents loved to dance. They saw each other groovin to the music from across the room and the rest is history.

Their love and natural talent for dancing has been passed down to me. And baby, I dance more than you know.

Rocking out on furniture has been my guilty pleasure since forever. As a child I twirled on every surface but the floor. As a teenager I was grinding on every platform Delaware Ave had to offer. In college, I bounced to the beat on my bed. A few years ago, my hips didn't lie on bar tops. Now? Barely ever. But I need to start shakin it again like its money cause rent's due next week.

Dancing has always been like a natural Prozac for me. Pair the perfect song about what affects me with some rhythmic motions and watch the sadness fade. I commonly prescribe myself two Whitney tracks with a pants free bailar-athon to feel better in the morning. Right now I'm trying to chase the blues away that come from living off the government rather than myself – but it's hard finding a song to self medicate with.

By watching my shadow shapeshift in Rorschach-like patterns across a wall to match my body expressing itself I can analyze how I really feel. And in a very Peter Pan turn of events I feel I've lost my shadow and need the perfect melody help me catch it and sew it back on.

There are a million ballads about mending a broken heart that have a great beat. But with all due respect to Tom Petty, (I won't back down), songs about being downtrodden are usually too slow to unleash my inner Bo Jangles. I need lyrics and a tempo that I can let loose to.

On a related note, I successfully rose to the challenge of casting couples and using a Z-1 Hi Def camera to film their Realtors for the BBC. High off of that achievment, I went on another job interview in NYC for a position I was so sure of landing that I missed celebrating my brothers 30th birthday party in Philadelphia for. I was told I would know by the end of that day (Friday) if I was starting Monday or not. It's Sunday. I want to dance.

I was born to move. So not dancing is like going against Nature. And with the ailing environment, Mamma needs all the help she can get. So who wants to help save the Earth? Let's show the world we can dance.

The Recession Diet

Yes, I have lost weight. I have yo-yo'd my entire life and I don't ever see that changing. Currently I'm at a happy weight though, which is ironic because it was caused by an unhappy circumstance.

The recession took my frugalness and magnified it by ten. In the 48 hours after being laid off I found it hard to eat anything. When my appetite came back, I decided not to pamper it with a 14 dollar omelet. Instead, I tortured it with an approximately $2 one I cooked up after shopping at Keyfoods. For lunch I got an epicly delicious sandwich from Sal Kris and Charlies for five bucks. Instead of attempting to stuff myself with the entire hoagie, I stopped eating when I was full and had the rest for dinner. Add some colorful produce to the mix and voilà, a days worth of healthy eating for under $10. Kind of a big deal for a girl who used to on average blow $12 on lunch.

I know guys can't stand a girl who talks about what they ate all day. So I'll spare you an in depth look at my daily menu (almonds and salmon and Fage oh my!). But for the first time in my life I am obsessing about nutrients and cost instead of fat and calories. I want more bang for my nutritional buck. COBRA is expensive. Gotta stay healthy.

The gym also gives me something to do with my plentiful unemployed time. I make it my job to take a few classes or hit the treadmill. Getting a workout over with in the morning is my best bet if I actually want to do it that day. Plus, I feel like I've accomplished something before digging in to whatever it is I just burned in a pan.

This thrifty lifestyle isn't something I'll be able to keep up forever though. When I work, as I have been temporarily for the last week, I have little time for the gym and crave chocolate cookies at my desk all day. More fat in than fat out ='s I won't be at my happy weight for long. But I need to decide – do I want a nice job or nice legs?

If I get up early enough in the morning to work out and avoid random free office donuts I can have the best of both worlds. But when you are tired and hung over from ditching the gym to hit up a happy hour... the vicious cycle continues. I gave up a social life to run 10 miles a day in high school and I'm still regretting it. There has to be a happy balance between fun and fiesta nachos.

For now I'm going to enjoy numbers on a scale I haven't seen since high school. I'm going to stay healthy because I respect my body. I'm going to avoid buying $2 red velvet cupcakes because they are costly empty calories. I used to talk about food and my weight all the time. Now I constantly talk about how I'm spending/saving my money. Thanks for (pretending to be) listening. Now, time to reap my Duane Reade dollar rewards and pillage another Cheerio sale...

Rick Allen lost his arm yet found a new way to Rock.

tick. tick. tick.

Can you hear it? That's the sound of my severance clock beating down.

Three months ago I was given a monetary allowance which shielded me from going into a state of hysteria. My severance pay enabled me to get my head straight without stressing over how I was going to pay my rent. Up till three days ago though, my thoughts were more scattered than ever and my problem remained the same: I needed to find a new job in the midst of a worldwide economic crisis.

As my days of "paid vacation" became numbered, I was forced to seriously consider what I was going to do with my life. I was entertaining numerous, unrealistic possibilities but needed to decide on one of two: A. Find a long term job B. Freelance until December, giving me freedom to go on a Latin American adventure. My choice would decide my job hunt approach.

Last week while picking up a paycheck from one of my day jobs, I ran into the one contact I forgot to notify about the layoff. I have no idea how she slipped through the cracks of my extensive job hunt, but I found her at the right time. She had one casting producer position still available - a week long gig casting Realtors and Home buyers for TLC/BBC Worldwide.

On day one of work my head became clear. I want to surf. I want to cast. I can do both. There is no guarentee that any job is permanent, especially these days. So there is no sense in throwing a dream away for a a steady job that can vanish in a second.

I still like the idea of a permanent job though and can try to get a new one when I get back. If I want to go the scripted route - a smooth CelebReality transition would allow me to get the agent/actor contacts that CSA's desire.

This plan will take long hours, business cards, networking, learning new skills and even making trips to New Jersey (thanks Chuck!) to adapt to a new style of casting that pays even more. I lost my old job but now will be a better casting rock star because of it.

To the unemployed who are reading this, here is my advice on getting back to doing what you love; think back to every job you have ever had and contact those you worked with. Think beyond who was in your department though and get in contact with them too. Directors I used to run into at the 770 office pantry, had the same bathroom schedule as, or even sneezed on in the elevator are all suddenly coming out of the woodwork with projects I could potentially work on, giving me hope that my dreams (of being a bilingual casting director who surfs) won't come to an end when my severance clock ticks down to zero.

The Interview

"Say you've got a big job interview. Throw back a couple of shots of Hennigans and you'll be as loose as a goose and ready to roll in no time! And because it's odorless, why it'll be our little secret."

Nobody likes going on job interviews. But unless a position falls into your lap, it's a necessary step to getting employed. So you do it. And like a bad breakup, this last one kicked the shit out of me.

The negative way it turned out was mostly my fault. Even though I fought hard to convince “Art Vandalay” to meet with me about the paid casting position, I spent more time deciding what to what to wear (tricky for production peeps) than researching the company and recalling my biggest strengths/weaknesses.

My lack of readiness showed and my credibility was attacked. All the redeeming things I had to say about myself seemed to fall upon apathetic ears. At one point during the ill prepared interview I thought I was going to throw up. My head got fuzzy and my throat felt ominous (maybe it was the Hennigans). But I persevered and choked the feeling back, trying to remember why I thought I was qualified for any job let alone the one I was there for.

I left feeling lowly and miserable. Thoughts swirling in my muddled brain included that I was capable of nothing and should give up on my dreams. When I got back to Queens I bought some baklava and beer to ease the pain, wrote my thank you (for nothing) note and passed out.

Then I woke up at the crack of dawn to spend the day helping to manage a crowd of teenage girls for a Jonas Brothers concert in the Rainbow Room. It was my first day of work in over two months and it felt great. I did great. Somewhere in that nonstop day I realized that nobody ever taught me how to organize large groups of people. Huge screaming crowds of teens and their protective mothers do not come with a training manual, I just hit the ground running.

Since I was in 30 Rock, I decided to stop by the new(ish) offices of my old internship at Late night with Conan O'brien- which I loved and happily worked at for free weekdays while working weekends for minimum wage/drinking money at the NBC Store. If I could go back to those eight months of my life I would. But six years of learning have passed since then and it would be ridiculous to think that they didn't amount to anything. If I really want a career in the entertainment industry I need to take a step forward rather taking a leap back.

So here are the new mantras I'm repeating. "Remember what you want and aim for it. Keep applying to challenging roles. Don't turn down an interview. Prepare for that interview. Don't let someone who barely knows you make you feel like you are less than what you are. You are never too old to try something new, but you can be too experienced to work for free."

Cue Barney's get psyched mix.

Bigger Problems

You lost your job and suddenly think the world is coming to an end. Well, it's not... yet. According to the ancient Mayans you have at least three more years before that happens. So live it up!

One of the (totally not nerdy at all) things I've been doing with my borrowed time is researching the grim 2012 theories and getting psyched for the predictable disaster movie about 12.11.12. Since first learning about Judgment Day while watching Ghostbusters as a child, I've been morbidly fascinated by any event which could instantly eradicate all my problems along with everything else in the world.

Don't judge. It's easy to become obsessed with something out of your hands when you are living proof of the worst financial crisis since the Great Depression. Many New Yorkers are spending fruitless hours searching for jobs and salaries that match their old ones. It is a total bummer but it could be worse. For example, a landslide in the Canary Islands could cause an 80 foot tsunami that would wipe out everything on the Eastern American seaboard. Short of seeing Zuul in your ice box, no matter what your problems were, that 80 ft. one would be worse.

The attraction to cataclysmic scenarios has proven profitable for Hollywood (with the exception of movies like Waterworld, which was way ahead of it's time). Humans have evolved in part because they are genetically programed to be mindful of danger - seeking information on things posing a threat to them. They also enjoy a good thrill ride.

But are there actually valid lessons to be learned by watching faulty-science filled blockbusters? Y2K scammers now feeding off the growing 2012 frenzy say yes. I say don't waste your money on their $900 dust masks just yet. Obama wants you to be frugal with your money for a reason. If a mega disaster happens, you will have between a millisecond to a few miserable months to live no matter what is in your bomb shelter. So take that money and spend it on something else like cancer research or paying down your debt.

Whether the apocalypse comes in the form of a supermassive black hole, 4 horsemen, pandemic or apoxic event, seriously, you'll be f*cked. The Nat Geo channel has made that very clear. There is no harm in studying religious myths and scientific facts on the subject though. I'm partial to documentaries on tsunamis, mega volcanoes and the medieval predictions of Merlin. Just remember that if the End of Days does come, and someone asks if you are a god - you say yes.

Serenity Now!

Times are tough. People are desperate. Thanks to my quest for a new job, I'm learning just how employers are taking advantage of that desperation.

The Film and Television industry is a tricky beast my friends. You can get called at 9pm for a job that starts at 5am the next day. Positive word of mouth and perseverance will get you everything. Obscureness and passivity will get you nothing.

When all your contacts run dry, so begins the tri-daily job site dance. Everyone plays favorites with certain sites, but mine goes a little something like this: Media-match.com, Mandy.com, realitystaff.com, entertainmentcareers.net, mediabistro.com, craigslist.com.

Craigslist/gig/crew stalkers such as myself are familiar with the helpful posts about who NOT to work for. There are companies out there that will try to use you for free in return for a bad lunch and a reel. At least those guys are honest. Many companies will make you work consecutive 16 hour days and then not pay you at all.

I prefer when companies are upfront about their compensation before you sign on to work for them. This week I discovered something new... the employment bait and switch.

It works like so - You see a posting for something you are slightly unqualified for. You apply to it anyway, noting in your cover letter that you can rise to the occasion and are a quick learner. Sensing your eagerness to try something new, they write back that... well, for a better effect I'll let you read the exchange for yourself. Names and companies have been changed for privacy sake (curious? E-mail me and I'll tell you on the low).

Hey girl!

We received your resume for the casting assistant position at Art Vandelay Casting and Art would love to meet with you for an interview as a possible intern instead, if that's okay with you. If you are available on Tuesday, please e-mail us back as soon as possible...

I wrote back:

Hi Mulva,

Thank you very much for your reply. I am a fan of Art Vandelay's work from Rochelle, Rochelle to Sack Lunch. However, due to my experience ranging from interning on a national talk show to coordinating two global casting efforts, I can only accept paying positions at this time.

As I said in my resume, I'm a quick learner and a very hard worker. I'm eager to break into scripted casting and would still appreciate the opportunity to meet with him to discuss the casting assistant position. Please let me know if he has time in his schedule to speak with me as I hope to benefit the company in the future....

Times may be tough but I'm no longer the cow that gives it's milk away for free. I've cast the world and won't sell myself short when I know what I am capable of. I'm still hoping to meet with 'Art' though, because as a very wise woman (Jen Kovel) once said (like, 4 minutes ago) “it never hurts to meet with someone.” Let's hope this time isn't the exception.

¿Cómo se dice...?

Ever met a person who looked back on their life and thought, "I'm so regretful of the time I spent becoming bilingual..." I did. She was an ignorant tool. Her name was cara haley weissman.

I took four years of Spanish in high school, had a tutor, took a semester of it in college and can still barely string a sentence together. My mind was more primed for learning back then, but I was too busy watching Saved by the Bell reruns and fighting urges to shoplift white eyeliner to care. The government paid for my blue ribbon high school education and I threw it away by cramming before tests or.... gasp... cheating.

I know I wasn't the only person "looking for a new pen" in their crib sheet lined backpack, or rolling up their sleeves to "scratch an itch" that reminded them what the difference was between por que and porque? If I was, then most high school educated people would be walking around speaking at least two languages. I actually know more high school drop outs with dual tongues than ivy educated ones. To be fair though, I really don't know that many ivy league educated individuals.

This past fall, pre-layoff and before the Costa Rica trip even crossed my radar, I took Spanish lessons at the 92nd street Y for fun. Just like high school and the free Hebrew class I took last winter, I didn't study between lessons and crammed 15 minutes before each session. But now, financed by my severance pay, I'm seriously buckling down and attempting to become bilingual (in between job hunting/soul searching of course).

Now I have a new reason to put my (non black yoga) pants on everyday. My Hebrew lessons were doomed because I couldn't actively practice with anyone, but there is no shortage of Spanish speaking inhabitants in New York. They key is to go out there and just start talking without fear of sounding stupid. Who knows who I'll meet any given day.

I’ve popped into a Mexican bodega to buy something I just learned how to say to see if they understand me. I have walked a mile to get coffee from an Ecuadorian named Pepe because he's good at explaining tenses. If I see a poster on the subway in Espanol and I hear people speaking in Spanish, I will go up to them and ask if I'm translating the text correctly. I have no regrets. I have no shame. I'm a casting producer for god sakes. Or at least, I'm still trying to be.