Adventures in the World of Temping

As the day is beginning to wind down, the song "Do I Ever Cross Your Mind" comes on and I contemplate the events of the day. For a temp day, its been quite interesting. Its the third week in a row that Ive temped at this specific furniture company in Manhattan, they love me and I get to sit around all day and do nothing.


Certain occurrences today were out of the ordinary, so much so that I have several times wondered whether or not I am stuck in some sitcom.

I wake up this morning about 6:50am wide awake and ready to go. Now this is 15 minutes before my alarm was supposed to sound for the first time. I get ready to go, leave an hour ahead of time only to find that my train isn't running into the city. I had waited about a half hour at that point and it was only then that the MTA employees could tell us what was going on and so they were ushering us out of the subway, directing us to bus it. At that point, I was already late so I just sat and waited around for little while to see if a train would come. It did, I boarded and we ended up being only about 10 minutes late. Not bad at all.

I get to work, get settled in and get a text message from my friend (A) asking if I left the bar we were all at the night before at the same time as his friend (B). I said no, and asked why. Apparently A and B were supposed to have a meeting and B never showed (which is unlike him). So I said I would contact friend C and D who were there with us, see if they knew anything, and get back to A.

Wait...

Around 11am a little Spanish speaking man walks in. He is from a soup place and has a delivery for a Linda. There is no Linda that works here. I tell him that, and suggests he tries next door. He insists for about 10 minutes that he is in the right place. I finally convince him that he should try next door. He comes back tells me that they said this was the right address. I finally get him to go away. Crazy Spanish soup man. I know you're trying to do your job, but trust me when i say Linda is not here.

Still no word... A is starting to get worried.

Two wrong deliveries walk through the door: Lamp Shades and Flowers. I direct them both to the main building at this address, not our store.

I try to get in touch with C and D again. No word from either or B. I begin to speculate what may have happened. About 5 stories came to mind... I wonder which, if any, it is.

1pm rolls around and this guy walks in, starts asking me stuff about policies, and our products. Naturally I call a sales rep. Turns out this guy was a Consumer Protection Investigator, who apparently goes around to businesses and makes sure they are on par blah, blah, blah. He looked like a fat moron if you ask me. He kept the sales manager tangled up in policy stuff for about an hour. While hes here I notice I missed a call from A, I wonder if hes heard anything.

2pm I go to lunch and immediately call A back. Apparently he received a text message from B, mentioned something about a police station in Brooklyn. I begin to ponder.

I get back from lunch and I finally talk to D, he fills me in on some. It was an interesting night as I gather from the vague information i am able to draw out. But no specifics. Damn.

The day goes on, things slow down and I keep trying to amuse myself. Nothing quite tops the investigation from this morning. Though I still don't know the details, you cant top a story that is deemed an interesting night and ends in a Brooklyn Police station (what ever the reason may be).

Just when you think you have your world figured out, life happens and throws you through a loop. When I moved to New York, I had a vague dream of working in film. My heart was there but my focus was all over the place. Now, 7 months later, I have a drive; I have a focus; I have a plan.

Further Reasons Why Hell is Freezing Over or My Life in the Twilight Zone

There are only two things in life we know for certain: death and taxes. Then there are thoughts or happenstances to serve as reality checks and make you question everything you have ever represented. It is the uncertainty in life that makes everyday worth waking up for, an adventure who's end is unknown. The days go by and the uncertainty, while keeping me on my toes has begun to blend in with everyday... thoughts though seem to stick with me. I have had two such thoughts in the past few weeks, and in many ways they terrify me.

Lets start with friendlier thought:

I like dancing. Many of my friends who would read this might think I'm pulling everyone's tail in saying this. I am, of course, the self proclaimed girl who just doesn't like to dance. When you get down to it, though, I have found I really enjoy dancing. There is something about the simple action that is enticing, invigorating and even sensual.

I started off merely dancing while I cooked. As I generally cooked alone, no one would be any the wiser. It was my own little secret, that I always had to be on the look out for a roommate who might enter the kitchen and catch me (like that 5 year old kid who stayed up way past his bed time just to read or play a little longer in the darkness).

Now I find myself willing to dance more and more when I go out. At first there is a little resistance to my friends, but I let them get me out on the floor. Once you're out, the great thing about dancing is that you can say so much through your body and the looks you throw at people.

I have communicated (on separate occasions) rescue me, I'd rather be dancing with you, back off, you can look but not touch, take me home... the list could go on. Point being that dancing alone or with friends is a great way to communicate... I just now have to better learn to communicate the whole "I'm not interested," after I have already rejected advances on kissing, Number exchanging, and further dancing. You'd think the guy would get a clue.

Thought number 2 that might just blow everyone away:

Grad School

I have decided I like the idea of going to Grad School, in particular for Ethnology and Folk Lore at a school in Scotland. An interesting combination, I am sure all of you are thinking. In reality this program is quite possibly perfect for me. It combines storytelling and cultural studies into one small package, which I can later use in my ultimate goal of telling stories on the big screen.

Never before have I so adamantly thought of going back to school, and yet as soon as I saw this program the wheels in my head started turning. I have a plan, now it just needs to be executed. I have never been one to follow plans, but we will see where this one takes me today.

Of Dreams and Lost Art

Still photography was one of the first art forms I remember really taking a liking to. I got my first camera when I as probably about 6 years old, it was one of those long rectangular one that you couldn't really get anything good on. I was persistent though and took pictures whenever I could. My mother, mostly to keep me from trying to steal her 35 mm automatic (that wasn't very good anyways), bought me my own little 35 mm point and shoot camera. For a time I was satisfied.

At 9 years old, I only desired to take pictures of friends and the silly games we played. Every once in a while I would manage to take something I would now consider quality, but to a 4th grader with her own camera the world was at my finger tips.

Now, it was either 5th or 6th grade (I am leaning more towards 6th because that's when my mother started leaving me at home alone), I went snooping through my parents room one day when I was bored. Where is this going, you ask yourself? In my dad's things from when he used to be out at sea all the time, I found his old 35mm Fuji SLR. I was in heaven... I had no idea what it was really, but I knew enough to realize that it was a fancy camera. Being the type of person he is, my dad left the instruction book in with his camera. I read it cover to cover when I should have been doing homework, and then pulled the camera out to put it together.

Before my mom got home, I carefully took apart the camera and put it safely away. I asked my dad about it shortly there after, and asked him to teach me how to use it. I don't recall him ever actually teaching me, beyond how to load it that is, and so I reason that I taught myself.

It was a love affair from day one, and I knew it would be a long friendship. I used it every chance I got, but actually took time to look for interesting shots or subject matter. With my old one I was often trigger happy, but this time I knew it would take time.

I used my dad's camera for the next couple of years, including for my black and white photography classes that I took. My mother wanted to make sure I was serious about my photography before she shelled out money to get me a nice one. Of course, she delayed and it was my older brother who bought it for me as a 17th birthday present. My Rebel- who I now fondly refer to as James.

James was faithful to me from day one, but 4 years after our relationship began I for whatever reason lost my inspiration and I took pictures less and less. I would plan out places I wanted to photograph, subjects, times etc; but, I could never follow through. It finally reached the point where I would carry him around for show and never actually use him. Not intentionally of course, that's just the way it goes sometimes.

With the lack of inspiration, I decided to put down my camera for a while. I needed to take a break, find my muse again... so to speak anyways. Now, after a very long two years, I think I am finally ready to reunite with James. I wouldn't quite say I'm fully inspired again, but I know full well that I am lost with out it as an outlet.

Try as You Might

The final hour drew closer and closer as we wrapped out of Louie's house. As far as short films go, minus a few minor complications, it was a pleasant shoot. We finish shooting, the company moves out and all is well.

As the first 15 passenger van pulls away, I get ready to start loading my stuff into the other. When I get out there, though, I realize something almost horrific as I try to open the door to the van. The keys are sitting right there in the ignition.

F*@k!

I frantically check the AD kit and the UPMs files for the spare keys. Of course the one were missing is the one we need. So I do the next best thing. Find a couple of paint sticks left over from the Art Dept to try and pry the door open. Not good enough... so I grab a screw driver to add that extra little bit of leverage.

I'd seen it done before, so I think I am able to recreate it.

I get the door pried up no sweat with the screw driver, but as I fiddle around sliding the coat hanger through the space and its no use. I can't quite hook the lock. So, I come up with a plan B (you always have to have one of those). I look around the location for something like a dowel rod that is sturdy but thin.

Nothing... seemingly, and then we find a rod for blinds. Unfortunately it is no good, as its too short. With some quick thinking, I decide to use a stick, long enough to reach and thick/ sturdy enough to hit the lock button.

With in 10 minutes I get the lock open... and it had just gotten dark! Success! I now have a new skill to add to my resume.

Fairy Tales

I have been talking back and forth with a friend of mine about fairy tales. Mostly the fact that I am writing fairy tales in my spare time. He commended me and said it was cool (Wow! someone thinks I'm cool), because he wants his life to be one.


First of all, who doesn't? I mean I feel, in my experience at least, that we all have this innate desire to have that "happily ever after." We have this want to live this big, extravagant adventure that ends in the heroine finding her Prince Charming, or the Hero finding his Princess or Fair Maiden. There seems to be something completely magical about the idea of living a fairy tale that just makes every day life seem overly difficult and mundane.

Why all this longing for something that is nothing more than flowery words and fictionalized stories. My friend, for example, talented Actor and Musician, with and independent album and a lot of promise. He wants to live a fairy? He is living one. What I said to my friend and I repeat to everyone who dares read this blog (myself included) is that real life is way more interesting than any fairy tale anyone could pen. Its all about semantics. Anyone can live a fairy tale, anyone can have their own fairy tale; all you need to do is elaborate and exaggerate the truth a little, add a mythical/ magical twist and end on any note you feel like.

I think we all need to do a bit more of living and less longing for that which you seem not to have. Although, who am I to talk? I probably do the most longing, the most dreaming and the most wallowing out of anyone here. I try to hide it well, but truthfully at any given moment I am wondering why it didn't work out with my latest interest, why my world isn't in perfect order, or thinking about everything I don't have in my life.

How can I be the optimist when there are times I am genuinely unhappy with my life, my world? Simple, I am an optimist out of necessity. When times get tough, when days become rough and when it seems like you will never get out of your hole, you have to (or at least I do) keep your chin up and hope for the best. After all, if things cant possibly turn around and get better, then whats the point of continuing.

I mean my life isn't so bad... in fact most would consider this a dream life, a right royal fairy tale. Whose to say fairy tale characters never got their hopes down? Whose to say that everything always happened perfectly in these stories. They certainly didn't, but then the focus was on the Happily Ever After, and everything prior to The End just let them straight there...

Singin in the Rain

Upon wrapping our short film yesterday, the entire crew went out for a drink at a near by bar. We were all chatting, shooting shit and chillaxing after a long week of production. I must say, that despite the craziness and desire to strangle some of the people I worked with, it was a good crew and I enjoyed the company. G however is no longer speaking to me.

At around 1900 hours, I get a call from Tim, Matt, Matt and Dean, who are visiting for the weekend and they happen to be a few blocks from where I live. I immediately hop up, give everyone my regards and exchange hugs, grab my things, and head for the door. When the good looking spanish DP says, "Maura, why don't you stay longer with us?" I politely say, "I have friends in town," "but im leaving for Spain on Tuesday," "but you'll be back, I havnt seen these kids in forever." Well it seemed like forever, I love the Lovechylds.

I ran out the door, flagged a cab and went home to drop my stuff off and quickly get back out the door. I was going to run all the way there, but my lungs couldnt handle running in the cold air. What can I say, I like these guys.

They are at Alligator Lounge, free pizza with every beer. We sat, chatted and had fun. Tim made the comment that when he and I talked it wasnt about the past, which is often what old college buddies talk about when faced with a reunion. Not us though, it was more about what everyone is doing now and how life is and the works. These kids never bore me...

We leave Alligator Lounge around 11:30 and head for the subway, stopping first at a convenience store where I can find a redbull. In crossing the street, I slip and wipe out... not spilling a drop of the red bull. We try to hail a cab, but they wont take 5 ppl so we try for the subway again. It takes about an hour to get to their hotel room where they retrieve their guittars, and we leave again.

There is a subway station down the street from their hotel and we head there. Enter the subway and they play. It was like being in college again, only grown up and more adventurous. I fogot how much I loved them. I was the resident groupie. At one point Matt plays a very familiar bass line, and Tim stops him. I say, come on you gotta play that... And so they play a completely acoustic version of "I Believe In A Thing Calle Love," fantastic.

I dont remember when I last smiled as widely as I did around these guys this weekend. I felt truley at home again.