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In honor of Glee’s Season 2 premiere, NPR Music created a ‘Songs We Wish We Were On Glee’ list. I chose Tommy James & The Shondells’ “I Think We’re Alone Now” for the kiss that I desperately hope happens between Finn and Rachel.
Any other Gleeks in the Gitnerblogospere?
While warmer weather is certainly welcome in DC, pollen and Spring allergies are not. I’ve already experienced the allergy triple threat: 1.) Watery, itchy eyes; 2.) wheezing; and 3.) uncontrollable sneezing. Now, it’s time to fight back.
Behold my pollen defense system for the bike commute! I won’t be winning any fashion awards… but then again, I wouldn’t anyway.
Though I’m a ripe 22-years-old less than a year out of college, I’ve noticed some alarming signs of aging. For example:
One year ago, I watched TV. Not only did I watch live TV, but I watched TV online. Hell, I watched bad TV online.
Now, I watch the The Rachel Maddow Show and occasionally reruns of Seinfeld. Sometimes I turn on Lost, only to find that a.) I have no idea what’s going on and b.) it gives me anxiety. Thanks to the deluxe cable package, I also watch movies I’ve already seen. In one week, I tuned in to snippits of The Reader, Schindler’s List, Blackhawk Down, and The Boy In The Striped Pajamas before realizing that I had seen three Holocaust films too many.
One year ago, sleeping in meant after noon.
Now, it means after 9AM.
One year ago, the word “splurge” applied to shoes, t-shirts, concert tickets, and similar items.
Now, it means buying meat at the grocery store.
One year ago, going out meant pre-gaming at the house and leaving by 11PM.
Now, it means having an after-work beer and getting home before 11PM.
I’m not going to pretend I don’t enjoy seeing links to my story months after its premiere on Intern Edition. I really do appreciate people finding it, watching it, and posting it on their blogs.
Most recently, I’ve discovered it on Against The Wood Grain. It’s a blog run by Brad Reynolds, a studio art major at the University of Idaho. Here’s what he had to say:
I just found this amazing segment about men in the craft world on the NPR website! It was put together by Jess Gitner, and it helps to know there are other male pioneer crafters out there somewhere.
Thanks for the love, Brad! I haven’t been doing any more multimedia stories lately, but I’m still enjoying post-college life and especially work. More to come on the blog once those 6- and 7-day weeks slow down a bit. Thanks for reading, Gitnerfans!
My multimedia story “Men of Craft” is still getting a little bit of love via internet. Thanks to the ManMade blog for the post. The author misspelled my name (GITner, not GINTer), but I’ll forgive him.
It’s a little jest-y, a little true, quite honest, and pretty interesting.
Thanks for the kind words, ManMade.
After writing my previous post on underemployment, I feel obligated to inform readers of my recent good fortune: I’m happy to report that I am now more employed, though still by definition underemployed. Strangely enough, an email just like the one I had been hoping for showed up in my inbox. I’m bursting at the seams with happiness, only confirming that the journey to the present has been worth it.
Let’s not attribute all of my happiness to this one occurrence; after all, it is temporary. I also love being a real person in the real world. I love living in DC. I love grocery shopping and cooking. And I love my big queen mattress/boxspring that sits on the floor of my subletted room.
Perhaps The Zombie’s “This Will Be Our Year” sums it up best. It’s bouncy, hopeful, and sugary sweet. This can be a sort of anthem for the year, perhaps. Enjoy.
Underemployment in the U.S. is now at 17.3%, according to an article by George Will at Newsweek.com. What does this mean?
Frighteningly, it means that in addition to the 10% unemployment statistic, 17.3% of employed Americans a.) are working part-time jobs when they desire full-time work and/or b.) are overqualified in skills/education for their current job. Even more terrifying is that unemployment and underemployment numbers are probably conservative estimates. Unemployment does not capture (and never has included) those who have given up looking for work, and the underemployment statistic is bound to be similarly flawed.
I am underemployed, though I’m incredibly thankful to have a job at all. Working even 3-4 days a week provides me a sort of purpose — some sense that I am valued and that I can contribute value to something. But I grow cynical and disillusioned at times. A co-worker, after learning my internship at NPR had ended, asked me how I was feeling about my job search. I answered him honestly. “I know I’m awesome, but my morale is low.” He laughed… because I’m funny and it’s true.
I continue to figuratively bang on the doors of friends or past colleagues who might be able to offer me a lead, advice, or otherwise. I’m lucky to have a few family members going to bat for me when they sniff out an opportunity. But it’s still a tough game to play.
Sometimes, I see that I have a new email (you know that number in parentheses in the Gmail header in Firefox). I hold my breath and fantasize, if only briefly, that a former co-worker has emailed about a new job opening. “You’d be perfect for the position!” they tell me. It usually ends up being a mass newsletter from a DC concert venue — the 9:30 Club or the Birchmere or Sixth & I — crushing my dreams.
This is not a sob story. No need to feel sorry for me. But to those who are employed and love what they do, I say this: pay it forward. Answer that email from hopeful youth #1. To ignore it or even forget about it is to steal hope, and hope is what we — the underemployed and unemployed — really need during this recession.
Last week I wrote about a moment of shoe indecision — to buy or not to buy Dansko clogs. I’d been considering it for weeks and a few days after I wrote the post, I caved in and bought some on my lunch break.
Though I had tirelessly researched colors and types of leather, I was still unprepared to see them on my feet. And what I saw wasn’t entirely convincing. The lunch hour was ticking away, so I just decided to get them and stare at myself a little more later.
After the 8-hour workday and the walk home, my feet hurt. Hell! My knees and back hurt, too. I decided then and there that I would gamble on the Dansko’s. There are weirder-looking shoes out there, after all (see Vibram Five Fingers at left).
So what’s the verdict? I’m happy to report that after a few consecutive 9-hour days of standing and walking, my entire body feels better. Some fun technical facts: 1.) The “rocker” bottom limits impact on the heel and allows the foot to move as designed; 2.) the high arch offers lots of support; and 3.) a spacious toe box allows toes to grip and move freely as God (or whoever) intended.
Now this is all extreme geekery, but answer me this. Have you ever stood for 9 hours? I wouldn’t be surprised if the majority of people answered “no.” Before I stumbled into the world of outdoor retail, my legs would ache after standing for a 3-hour concert. Now, I’d consider that child’s play.
Hate on the Dansko’s, or not, I’ll be sporting my Dansko’s on most of my future shifts. Vanity vs. Comfort? Comfort for the win!
Today (well, yesterday now) is what would be Elvis Presley’s 75th birthday. I never came to appreciate the fuller scope of Elvis’ music until late in college, but I’ve consistently loved “Can’t Help Falling In Love.” In what may be one of my last contributions to NPR Music for a while, I wrote a little blurb about my favorite Elvis song as part of NPR Music’s “Songs We Love” series. Remember my write-up about Rick Ross’ “Hustlin’”? If hip-hop wasn’t your style, please check this one out.
The NPR Picture Show blog also has a very cool slideshow of Elvis as we tend to remember him — in his hunky 20s. Check out photos by Alfred Wertheimer of Elvis at 21.
Within the confines of my very small budget, I often consider how I can make my life more comfortable. For example, I commute by bike, and I often ask myself how I can I ride (in all weather conditions) and still feel dry, warm, and content.
First, rain pants (full disclosure: I work at a Patagonia retail store). They may swish when I walk. They may look shiny in natural light. They may even contribute to slight confusion when I remove my rain pants in public. BUT they keep my jeans dry in a DC downpour.
Second, bike gloves. They have reflective piping for visibility and lobster claw-style fingers for warmth, not to mention they’re also windproof and waterproof. Admittedly, they look a little ridiculous. But hey, I’m warm and I’m dry on a wet, winter day. No one here is complaining.
The list goes on. Neck warmers, wool socks, sweat-wicking baselayers. I need them all and secretly whisper thanks when they serve me particularly well.
But now, I have reached a crossroads, a tipping point if you will. I’m considering buying Dansko clogs.
What are Dansko’s, you ask? You’ve seen them. On nurses and doctors and chefs. And potentially in the near future, you might see them on me.
Let me be clear — these Dansko clogs are unrelated to biking. They’d be for my 8-hour shifts of working retail. But have I crossed the line? Have I gone too far in seeking comfort with these semi-hideous but oh-so-wonderfully-comfortable (or so I’ve heard) shoes?
Reflecting on my past of unabashedly wearing geeky things (see Synchilla Duckbill Hat), I wonder why I hesitate at Dansko’s. Why are these shoes worse than lobster gloves? Is it because there is no point of removal? Unlike a hat, I’d be stuck with them for the day. My hesitation could be due to an overly strong association of identity with shoes. After all, shoes were the only form of expression at my Catholic elementary school and high school, where I wore a uniform for 12 years straight. I want my shoes to say something about me, and that something is not necessarily “I’m beautiful… on the inside.”
Readers, after this deep self-reflection, it seems I just don’t want to be my Dansko’s, should I purchase them. If I get them and if you spot them on my feet — where Nike Dunks or Vans Raglans usually live — I urge you to consider that I’ve been standing for many hours… or was weakened by the allure of comfort on a trip to the grocery store.
Like any gear geek, I suspect I’ll start taking pride in wearing Dansko’s after only a few wears. Please, sneaker gods. Forgive me. I am but merely human.
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