I’ve been having those almost-30-something on-again-off-again conversation about generations. Whose generation? Well my parents, my grandparents, mine, those youngin’s below me; generations in general. Granted it continues to circle back to Generation X and Generation Y. The generations I inhabit, or as have started to refer to them as Generation Lost and Found. It’s a cusp. Not one or the other, we grew up with the Internet. Hello AOL. Saw the fall of the Berlin Wall and probably got a piece that Christmas. Thanks, Grandma Shirley! Yuppies were aspirational and flannel was king. It was a mix of marketing overload and a want to turn our backs on consumerism. Growing up, we were told the world was ours to take. My parents, both baby boomers, always let me know that through work and perseverance, I could accomplish anything. Not that I don’t still believe that, but the idea that college was my gateway is no longer so clear. I don’t want to say it was entitlement. I’m not a fan of that nor do I really believe that was what my generation encompasses, but it was the world was open and we were the ones that were in control.

Fast forward to present and this is not my world. This isn’t what I thought would happen. What are you doing to me universe? Debt? Ha. I’d make a money and live in a fabulous loft. Silly debt collectors; wrong number. Moving for the third time since moving to SF? Ha. I’m going to own a condo and sell it at a fabulous profit! Ok, that last one was joke. I never expected to own anything. It was part of my I-like-to-live-like-the-wind-nomadic-wanna-be-existence. I’ve had numerous conversations over the past few week about how we need to change the way we educate ourselves. But seriously, more than ever it’s about how to adapt. It’s no longer a clear cut path to success or a job. Resume paper, does that even exist anymore? It’s about mapping out your own plan. How can you fit your strengths into the market and not you-went-to-college-here’s-a-job, or my personal favorite I-want-to-this-well-known-school-so-give-me-a-job.

This is a different world from where I came from and not even Billy Cosby can come up with an awesome theme song to fix it. It’s different than the one 10 years ago when I graduated high school, it’s different than the one I first knew when I signed up for AOL and chose my first screen name and entered into a college chat room at 10-ish. It’s about finding opportunities, it’s about trusting your gut and it’s about throwing away the idea that your life will be for one company and only one company. There’s no shame if you do stay with one company your entire career and there’s no more taboo if you job hop. It’s popular to say start your own thing and do what you can and in some places it’s easier than others. All I can say is that when you pick what is important to you — career aspirations, travel, family, love — it’s easier to find a path. It doesn’t have to be one or the other, but give in and let go of what you think your life is supposed to be and make the most of this. No, it’s not a Yuppie mall, but it’s not a brown box of gloves, socks and other forgotten items.

Generation Lost and Found is about finding that key. Finding the way in which to push yourself and trust yourself to find those opportunities at hand. Taking smart risks and making stupid mistakes. So you worked for a start-up and it busted. What did you learn? It’s about taking a job so you can pay rent and food and live your life. It’s about taking a step back and learning and loving what you do even if that means a pay cut.

If anything, Generation Lost and Found is about finding yourself and doing what makes you happy at this point. This is the point at which we do have the control. Find it and capture it. What can you do to survive?

In the end, you knowthe kids are alright.

It was a long winded journey in the world of books. My decent in journey-of-life books started with Into the Wild. Somehow I had skipped the let’s-play-in-the-wilderness-and-live-off-the-land part of my young adult hood. Ok, I didn’t skip it. I thought it was dumb. I thought it was naive. I also thought I had always have a decent job, live in a fabulous apartment, be awesome at life and oh, have good credit. Who’s naive now? It was more moving that I initially gave it credit for. I told people, and continue to, that I read at exactly the point in my life I needed to. Against all odds, you can make things happen for yourself, and on the flip side, even if you take every precaution – sometimes life just fails you.

Now friends, you’d think that this would be inspiring enough to keep me about my wits, find my lost self along the highway, but alas, the journey of books continues! I hit this 60s/70s disillusionment with life and found myself deeply invested, if not overly frustrated with, Walk Across America or how many times I can use the phrase forever friend with out making the reader vomit. Shoot. Now I want to see the world! Walk with everyday man and explore the unknown. I’m dramatic. What can I say? It was worth a shot. I had spent the last summer driving from SF to Chicago. Maybe I’d find myself playing banjo off the side of a mountain. Long shot. I know.

It wasn’t until I was finished with The Geography of Happiness and was already past Italy (thank god) and into India in Eat Pray Love that I A) came to realize I needed to stop reading so many books about travel and B)had some found what I was looking for. There is no answer. Each person kinda of trips and fumbles and finds things out as they can. I lose sight of that a lot. In fact, this post was one I was supposed to have written back in April, but it took me until now to sit down and do it. Partly because of timing, partly because I was embarrassed for having spent the first half the year thinking communal living off the coast of Chile would be divine, but mostly for the fact that I continue to go in-and-out of waves of feeling lost. How could I write a post about a journey of discovery when I every time I find myself I lose it. I decided that I need to write. No matter how lost I feel or frustrated I get, my voice, the one that tells me how strong I am and how I am capable some how deafens the sound of the nasal, mean, and finger-pointing self that calls me a failure.

It took me a long time to see myself sitting on the highway in plain sight playing the harmonica. It is, and will always be about accepting myself. What I can do well, what I don’t do and how I can be me. Whether or not I like that is something I have to get over. Damn it. I really should learn how to play the harmonica.

Since I’ve been employed now via contract work I’ve been playing in pseudo-employed world. Having a job and feeling self-sufficient has been euphoric, but  honestly there’s a post-traumatic unemployment disorder (PTUD) that’s become a part of me. I’ve talked to friends who’ve felt similarly after being laid off. It’s this late-night-in-your-head-never-leaving-nagging-voice that waits for the floor to disappear. When is it going to happen again. When I’m going to be left with nothing. It has nothing to do with the present and all with the past and while I struggle to regain fiscal confidence, I also struggle to regain personal confidence as well.

Today is about my lessons in responsibility in the fiscal sense. When I first became unemployed I took to the phones and called all my creditors. I was on top it. I had to be. The second time I was laid off I was less on top of things. I was moving to a new apartment, looking for new jobs and lost track of a lot of things. Fast forward to the present and having to make a payment so I don’t have a block on my credit report. It’s not a fun feeling. It’s my fault in all senses of the world. It’s my fault for being in debt to begin with. I lived beyond my means and I learned that. Did I need to learn it again and again? No, but that’s life. Should I have paid better attention to the junk mail I received? Yes. Maybe that’s wasn’t junk mail but a credit bill. Lesson learned? Yep. I was able to set-up payments for the next five years. In five years I’ll be thirty-three. That’s a)scary b)intimidating c)hopefully will have less debt and d)learned my lesson from my twenties — I’m hoping for all over the above and for it to be paid in less than five years, but I’m not holding my breath.

My biggest lesson from my latest fiscal crisis was learning that there are lot of stories out there from people like me. I started this blog when I needed an outlet. I need to work on my writing, I needed to keep my family up-to-date and I needed something for me. How does this all fit together? My credit card helper yesterday asked me the normal questions. How did this happen? What’s your situation? The usually why haven’t you been paying you credit card bills. I answered truthfully and looked for help on getting payments lowered. It was after that conversation that he shared his story with me.

He had been laid off for nine months. A former police officer, his wife was pregnant when he was laid off. This job was paying 1/3 the amount he used to make, but there was opportunity for growth. He just had to start at the bottom. We shared our stories and talked about our own survivals. It was brief conversation, but it was empowering. There are so many of us out there whose lives have changed. Some minimal, some in extraordinary measures and while there are a lot of stories being told, I’d like to continue to hear them. If anyone wants to share their story with me. I’d love to start interviewing people. This is something I’m not sure where it will go or what it will turn into, but it’s something I’d like to understand better. This kind of work has been done before.  On my own quest for the meaning of my life and what life is, I’m reading US: Americans Talk About Love. John Bowe’s writing about relationships. I am writing about relationships with jobs, unemployment and the personal attempts at growth that one can never turn away.

I’m not sure what will happen or where this could go, but I do want to hear you stories. I want to know if you are employed now if you struggle with PTUD, and if I’m the only a quest to find out if there is a greater meaning or if I should just shut that part of my brain off and become a robot.  2009 was the year of the unemployed/funemployed and it seems to have passed. Where have all the unemployed blogs gone; there are stories are out there. Share yours. Have we learned anything?

Rain. It’s not the fact that I can’t enjoy the sun or that I haven’t been to the park in months –don’t get me wrong being caught in the rain is like my favorite new hobby — no, it’s because for two months straight we haven’t seen the sun and it’s starting to affect me.

It’s easy when you’re down to blame the things around you. It’s not my fault I was late. Caltrain had electrical issues (two Mondays in a row, thank you). I blame Caltrain. It’s not my fault my alarm didn’t go off. My phone shut it self off. I blame my phone. It’s not my fault I’m uber depressed and moody. It’s been raining since January. That’s two months straight. I blame the rain.

It’s days like this that remind me of one my childhood favorite bands, Milli Vanilli. I actually remember reading about their demise in the newspaper. It was one of those icon moments where I remember putting down Dear Mr. Henshaw to read about why one of my favorite bands wasn’t going to be releasing any new tapes. I learned many things that day. My favorite may have been the new vocabulary word: lip sync. Awesome.

It’s times like this when I get down for no reason (besides the two-months of rain) that I need to remind myself that I’m accountable for my own actions and happiness. As much as I’d like to channel Queen of Hearts and take out my enemies with an off-with-their-head attitude, I remind myself living in a garden with headless people running around would be quiet lonely. I can only answer myself so much before even I have to tell myself to quiet down. It’s funny how as humans we can turn a semi ok day into a-terrible-horrible-no-good-very-bad-day when you let it.

I stopped trying to blame other people for mistakes, the weather, odds and ends that happen in a given day. You can call me one who likes to be in control, but I call it acceptance.  When I take control and become accountable for my actions I discovered a new found power that exists. It’s the one that helps me grow, the one that helps me realize how in control I really am when things seem out of control. It’s not always the easiest. Especially when the angry voices inside my head tell me how horrible I am and the demise of mankind is imminent. I let myself feel down for that moment — to really take in the feeling — and when I’ve made myself feel terrible I pull myself back up and move on.  So rain, you may have won this round, but my season depression will end, just not today.

And for all you snow bunnies, we may only have rain, but I envy your biceps,  triceps and abs. Keep shoveling that snow, kids. You’re so ready for spring baby and you don’t even know it.

Ok.Slight fabrication. We knew that the world changed. The “adulthood” we expected wasn’t there anymore. A year wasn’t going make  any magical overnight changes to the economy and trees weren’t going to grow gummy bears. That didn’t mean we weren’t hopeful for the end of layoffs, uncertainty and lower rent. Don’t judge, I still wish on stars for lower rent. It may happen.

I’ve been watching a number of close friends who’ve been laid off close to a year now struggle. Struggle in the same ways I had and struggle in different ways that I can’t understand. I feel like my soccer coach from when I was kid watching from the sidelines trying to keep us invested in the game and looking at the larger picture. The ball may be going here at this second, but where will it go next?

I confess, I only played one season and I was more interested in picking grass and playing in the net than kicking a ball down the field. Watching people you are friends with struggle is harder than going through it yourself. When I was unemployed I was in my head. I controlled the situation and could bring myself out of my own self-described deprecation, but now I’m back on the other side and as I so eloquently first stated there are things you never tell an unemployed person. What can a former unemployed friend do from the sidelines?

1. Follow up Like any good coach, check in with your unemployed friend.  I personally try to avoid talk of jobs, applications and money only because I try to respect someone’s boundaries, but honestly, some people need to be pressed and forced to open up.
2. Be available My coach used to run up and down the field along side us (or so I imagine, I was like six at the time). He didn’t always interrupt play, but was there, and available, at crucial times. It’s not always having the right thing to say, but being there to listen.
3. Show support It’s a pat on the back or a hug, but mostly it’s a genuine interest in how your friend is doing and supporting them during their ups and downs.

One of the hardest things to deal with about my unemployed friends is my own personal desire to scream I’ve been there. Listen to me!  I have all the answers in the universe. Seriously, it’s like this overwhelming desire to sit on a sofa and talk about my unemployment and tell them what they can do, what I’ve done and how it can all right in the end. I can’t though. When you’re there, in unemployment, you know you’re not alone, but at the same time your situation is unique to you. It’s hard to hearing but the thoughts inside your head.

It’s been a year and we all have places we thought we’d be and persons we’d become and things we would be doing. We take what we can and we reboot. Something I’ve learned is that taking a step back doesn’t mean failure. It’s a chance to regain composure, refine your skill set and breathe. As for the rest of this year, I’m not counting on gummy bear trees or salt licks that won’t kill me prematurely. I just want to survive and retain my sense of humor. I’ll keep the unhealthy salt lick for that.

2009 in review: amid many changes — jobs (both gain and loss), unemployment (Mr. Unemployment and his unreliability), road trips, weddings and the death of a close friend — I became an adult. Seriously, don’t laugh at me, we all become adults at different times in our lives. I was just lucky that like all things in life mine came much later. Awkward high school photos FTW! Stupid learning curve. Truthfully the idea of adulthood at 18 only makes sense to those who are 17. Freedom is in your reach until you turn 18 and realize nothing has changed. Yeah. I woke up at 25 and still felt like that. It took a change — one I hadn’t fit into my five year plan — to force me to grow up because like adulthood, unemployment comes at different times, or not at all.

Obsession over dates: It starts as simple as celebrating a week of employment and moves into the over-neurotic nature of counting down until you’ve hit six-months of employment. I personally am looking to remain employed past Jan. 16, 2010. I mean, of course I want to be employed longer and more permanently, but that would be a good start. Nothing says I’m awesome-and-wonderful like being employed a year later. Source

I had made it. One year later and I am working. So here I am. Awesome? I was always awesome. Wonderful? That’s debatable depending on my mood. At least I’m honest. One year later? Life still exists.

I don’t know what’s going to happen. My good-at-life-pay-off-my-credit-cards has me refusing to answer my phone. After being unemployed on and off for a year the idea of financial stability has yet to rejoin me in my happy dance. It’s ok. I’ll figure it out. It’s a scary world out there, but it’s nice to know other people are continuing to stay positive and put their best work forward. It’s time to be smart. It’s time to be creative. Isn’t that right, Katie? Here’s wishing you the best of luck.

I am nearing my four-month contract employment mark. Yay! It’s a big step when you’ve been unemployed on and off the past year or more and find yourself working again. It’s a pleasant feeling like freshly cut grass, Fall on the East coast or some sea salt as a snack. But something that occasional interrupts such bliss is the dreaded and mind-numbingly annoying flash back of unemployment.

Obsession over dates: It starts as simple as celebrating a week of employment and moves into the over-neurotic nature of counting down until you’ve hit six-months of employment. I personally am looking to remain employed past Jan. 16, 2010. I mean, of course I want to be employed longer and more permanently, but that would be a good start.  Nothing says I’m awesome-and-wonderful like being employed a year later.

Re-occurring conversations on when you were unemployed: Remember that time I was unemployed? I was unemployed this year, twice. Did I tell you that? I learned so much… Shoot me now. Part of the joy of going through PTLD is reliving all the lessons you learned. Maybe I didn’t learn them right? Maybe I have more to learn? Maybe I need my friends and family should just start ignoring me before I turn into Charlie Brown’s teacher. It’s time to step-up and let it go — street style.

Life happens and that’s what unemployment and then re-employment teaches you. In the battle of appreciating what you have and learning to navigate the unknown just step up.   Let go of the past and look towards the present. My inner self that likes to control everything is slowly letting go of all things in the universe I can’t control. That is not to say that if by some magical power I gained control of the universe that I wouldn’t use it, but for now I’m conceding. Some lessons in life are able to be learned. Just don’t tell too many people.

Congratulations are in order. And by that, I mean I’m going to congratulate myself. I’ve made the jump from all-out unemployment to the realm of part-time underemployment. Translation: I am wedged in between the lowest tiers of Maslow’s self-actualization pyramid! Huzzah! Still, it’s progress and I have my sights set on what I want.

My job requires marketing writing that’s supposed to be in the voice of a teen girl (Interviewer: “Can you do that?” Me: “Duh.”). With my previous experiences working on ABC programming geared toward middle-aged women, I will soon have run the lady gamut and know everything there is to know about the fairer sex.

While marketing writing isn’t necessarily my undying passion, I really need cash and I am interested in gaining “the experience.” In addition to this opportunity, there is also another prospect that I’m truly, truly excited about…

But should I be?

One of my roommates, the one with an affinity for psychics, bought Sam Raimi’s marvelous little gem Drag Me To Hell. It came out on DVD this week, so definitely check it out if you have not seen it. I would argue that this movie and Paranormal Activity (my Wired.com review here) make for the best double feature of the year.

Both this movie and Paranormal Activity deal with a demon haunting its protagonist. In this case, it’s the beautiful, talented, charming, all-around awesome Alison Lohman. It’s clear that the movie has a particular stance and that stance is anti-employment.

If you’re employed, the movie argues that you become part of an establishment that seeks to destroy both you and the people around you (which is very interesting, given our current economic circumstances).

Or, maybe it’s just about Alison Lohman pissing off a gypsy by denying her mortgage extension, causing the gypsy to awaken the Lamia, said demon, which tries its best to drag our charming, guilt-ridden protagonist to hell. Lohman even has to kill her kitty cat to try and protect her soul and, by extension, her job.

What I truly appreciated about Raimi’s movie is that Lohman’s character is placed on screen as an honest to goodness human with feelings. We know she was a fat kid, we know her Mom is an alcoholic, and we know that her boyfriend’s prestigious family dislikes her simple background. She’s being haunted by both the present and past. We know her (and in some cases, are her), demons and all. She’s self-actualizing via the crazy and I love it.

While we definitely live in age of over sharing (it’s not always good to talk about your inner and not-so-inner demons), we are also in a time where aloofness reigns supreme. With this film, in all its craziness, it’s nice to know that there’s still a place for sincerity, even if it’s in the guise of a fictional character.

I recently found myself having drinks with Daniel Pinchbeck, son of Beat generation author Joyce Johnson. Like my roommate, he has an affinity for discussing “psychic planes”. If you don’t know who this guy is, watch this:

Basically, he’s that friend from college that you would occasionally hang out with — usually on Friday nights, in a fragrant, incense-filled room. Unlike the homeless burnouts on the streets of San Francisco, he was lucky enough to have a magazine assignment that shipped to West Africa to experience psychedelic shaman rituals, which eventually led to a book deal. After his experiences, he came to the stunning realization that what we are doing to our planet is bad (Okay…).

…He also came to the conclusion that there will probably be a shift in global consciousness very soon, and he also talks about how this may be linked to alien visitations and crop circles.

There are a couple of reasons as to why our encounter could, uh, only be described as, uh, AWKWARD.

First, the prospective job that excites me so much is something that he considers completely frivolous (even though he’s worked in media). Second, when discussing his reasons for exploring shamanism and psychedelics, he cites a personal existential crisis.

What is this crisis, you may ask?

I don’t know because he’s not telling. Yes, it may be personal info. However, for someone who seeks to be profound and personal through his books, it would seem to make sense to strive for the personal qualities of Alison Lohman’s character in Drag Me To Hell. For someone preaching a current lack of humanity, social understanding, and nihilism in media– I’d just like to hear some of those experiences on a personal level.

After the messages surrounding me in both film and conversation, again, I ask: Should I be excited about my prospects or will I go crazy as I try to self-actualize?

Answer:

Whatever job I have/get may give me an existential, demon-filled crisis… But you know what? As I said, I’m in the lowest tiers of Maslow’s hierarchy. Living in reality. I need to support myself and find security, first and foremost.

Basically, if my life and Maslow status could be represented via film, I would be pre-nose job Paula Abdul singing “Party.” I got my first mini-paycheck today, so that’s what I’m having.

Hell-to-the-yes.

“Apparently we had a time disconnect,” the voice on the message said.

Yes, yes we did. The first interview from the previous week, I am told, went quite well. However, I have yet to hear back for another follow-up. It was thoroughly embarrassing, but an honest mistake. Still, how could I have been late to my own interview?

I had a different interview for another group soon after. This time, I was not tardy for the party, but that was the theme of the hour-long discussion. Glancing over my resume, I’m told that much of my experience is working on “legitimate” entertainment and news.

Let it be known, this is not the first time I’ve been asked to dumb my interests down. It’s really quite surprising, since a lot of my interests are sincerely superficial. It seems to be happening quite a lot, actually.

“So, you like good movies, but do you watch TV or movies that aren’t good? You produced a music podcast, but with quality music – do you like bad music? Are you a fan of Twilight?”

The next hour was spent delving into my overwhelming knowledge of this:

Yes, Kim Zolciak’s “Tardy for the Party.” It answers two questions in one fell swoop. Do I watch bad TV? Well, Kim Zolciak is a Real Housewife of Atlanta. And yeah, she came out with this banger of a bad song.

I took a big gulp and said that this drunk anthem was “my anthem right now.”

The thing is this — clearly this is not my anthem (except on Fridays). I don’t think it’s anyone’s anthem. There’s just something completely and utterly revolting about it generally. I’m sure that it’s hugely embarrassing for Kim Zolciak and her children and Big Poppa. And that’s what makes it so good.

Instead of honestly discussing the expulsion of ear blood that occurs when popping a bottle of bubbly and hearing this, I treated Kim Zolciak’s efforts in a serious light. In retrospect, my answer and monologue probably sounded like something from Nene Leakes, that other housewife. I think she probably possessed my body for a bit, opinions and all.

Five minutes were left in the interview. What was the last question? Oh, am I fan of Twilight? If I wasn’t before, I am now.

OF COURSE I'm a fan of Twilight.

She talked about starring in sci-fi and horror ranging from the film adaptation of Silent Hill, one of the most successful horror videogame franchises ever, to a movie about a giant crocodile. However, she ‘s very quick to point out that – while she respects genre films — they aren’t all she does. It actually turned out to be a pretty interesting chat, so I encourage you to check it out.

After I interviewed her, I began thinking about actresses starring in horror —indisputable scream queens — who truly look at genre films as their bread and butter. A lot of people probably think about Neve Campbell or Jennifer Love Hewitt, actresses who propelled the late ‘90s self-aware horror into the limelight. But those actresses also had things like the TV show Party of Five…

I then realized that many of the questions that I had for my interview were based in my own curiosities. I have a strange desire to be in really lowbrow horror films at times. There’s no explanation. It is just plain weird. I then started to think about whose career I would most like to emulate.

Linnea Quigley’s face popped into my mind.

She is most definitely not a household name, but she’s someone who has branded herself in the most interesting of ways. She’s appeared in roughly 100 films, with titles such as Night of the Demons, Sorority Babes in the Slimeball Bowl-O-Rama, and my personal favorite, Return of the Living Dead. She’s also written books about her rise in this particular kind of cult fame in the books Chainsaw and I’m Screaming as Fast as I Can.

She also made something called Linnea Quigley’s Horror Workout:

Growing up, I watched Return of the Living Dead over and over and over again. It became clear that this was not an age-appropriate sort of thing when I brought it to my cousins’ house. I was probably about 8. My brothers and I popped it in the VCR. Swearing, nudity, and zombies eating brains ensued.

My cousin Ruby was not amused. Moreover, she could not believe that my mother is the one who made us this tape.

Linnea Quigley immediately stands out as a force to be reckoned with. Her name in the movie is Trash, she gets on tombstones and dances naked, and she looks at ugly buildings and says, “I like it. It’s a statement.”

Linnea is that ugly building. And I mean that as a compliment. She starred in a genre that, particularly in the 1980s and before, was considered on par with pornography. Despite public opinion and critical consensus, she did what she wanted and she did it well.

Normal acting dreams draw people to want to be the most beautiful or the most talented and serious. However, there is something to be said about being doused in buckets of fake blood, screaming at the top of your lungs, and treating it seriously. That may be one of the boldest statements of all.