Reason #5: I am kind of a big deal already.

Well, OK, I'm not. But Peanut Butter Plan is! Check us out (and see the back of my head--I'm in the red sweater) in this fabulous article in today's Chronicle.

Woohoo!!

Thank you. Thankyouverymuch.

Here's a secret: I am an Elvis fan. "Graceland" was always my favorite track off of Paul Simon's album of the same name. I am the proud owner of a necklace with a photo of Elvis on the pendant. I've been known to listen to "That's Alright, Mama" when I'm feeling down. Last year, I read Last Train to Memphis, an excellent biography that chronicles Elvis's rise to to fame. (Careless Love, by the same author, tells the story of his downfall, though I have yet to read it.) And I have been to Graceland. Well, not the actual house, but the area around it, which was rife with Elvis fans and impersonators. I can't wait to go back.

One thing I love about Elvis is that his signature sound byte (or at least his signature spoken sound byte) was "Thank you, thankyouverymuch." I think it's pretty cool that a superstar of his stature is known for graciousness... well, among other things, but let's focus on the graciousness for now. While I don't have fans in the same way Elvis does, I have been thinking I really ought to have a thank-you section on the blog to recognize everyone who's helped me out and encouraged me in my quest for a full-time job, and so, in the spirit of the king, let me take a moment to acknowledge all these wonderful people (It's ok if you want to skim--I know there are a lot of names here):

• Kendra, my roommate, for putting up with my shenanigans for all these months, making the yummiest brownies in the whole wide world, and weathering her own job search woes with grace
• Kirsten, for her unflagging support, seemingly endless tolerance for bellyaching about unemployment, and superior cover letter proofreading skills
• Renata, for listening, cracking jokes, cooking, being weird, being studious, and for knowing me almost better than I know myself
• Cady, for her patience, wry humor, generosity with chocolate samples, and limitless knowledge about all things San Francisco
• Jack, for letting me invade his store, complain vociferously about unemployment, and then feeding me when I was finished complaining
• Joseph, for being an appreciative eater and offering sound advice
• Ryan, for introducing me to the joys of dark and stormies, pool, The Office, and 30 Rock, and for being a rock
• Leticia, for giving me great advice and amazing volunteer opportunities, and for sending me the nicest email in the history of the world
• Marcela, for her brilliant conversation and vote of confidence in this blog (and in me!)
• Julia, for her contagious optimism, sense of adventure, and fabulous style
• Eugene, my favorite phone tag partner, for his candor, generosity, and fine story-telling
• Diana, Jess, Sayd, Ana, Lexy, Katie, and especially Aston, for staying in touch and regaling me with excellent stories of post-grad life
• Kendell, Whitney, Kim, Zoe, Julia, and Liz, for telling me about their adventures and reminding me that I've had several of my own
• Kate, Maddie, Rennie, Liza, and Juliet, for commiserating with job-search woes and for sending me job postings
• Tom, Jenn, Lauren, Caroline, Paula, and Karen, for their fabulous messages of support
• Tito, for leaving the best comments (and also phone messages) and for being my brother
• Thea, for her sass, sense of humor, ability to mimic just about anyone, and general cheerfulness, and also for being my sister
• Jorge and Marisa, respectively, for discount sushi and never getting impatient with my lack of tech skills, and for passing job opportunities my way
• Emilie, for mad pie-baking skills, sending me job opportunities, and being the coolest Wisconsinite around
• Leigh, for putting the "leigh" in "leader" (Get it? It's like a joke, but not as funny), overseeing an amazing internship, and continuing to send along job postings
• Ninive, for taking a chance on hiring me and introducing me to wide and wonderful world of development
• Uncle John and Aunt Isa, for thinking about me, introducing me to some wonderful people, and just generally being super-cool
• Phil, for giving me the most insightful informational interview I've ever had
• Katie, for her incredible kindness and for making time for me, despite a grueling schedule
• Laura, for her sharp insights into and deep knowledge of the nonprofit world, and for explaining, finally, what the field of communications is actually about

MVP Section

• Milton, for his tireless assistance in sending me job postings, forwarding me connections, and just generally motivating me to keep looking
• Susan, for being a source of inspiration and sending me bajillions of job opportunities in Austin
• My parents, for their constant encouragement and support, and for getting me into the habit of writing thank-you notes

Update: It just occurred to me that I should also thank the coffee shops whose internet and desk space I've been mooching off of. So, thank you to Philz, Haus, Java Supreme, and especially Sugarlump for providing delicious beverages, (mostly) delightful music, and tolerance of my deadbeat tendencies. I really appreciate it.

All of you rock even harder than the king, and that's saying something.

Food for Thought

I applied for a couple of positions at the branch of Whole Foods that's about to open at Noe and 24th, thinking that working there would be a convenient way (I live just down the hill from the new location) to buy myself some more time to network and find the kind of career I actually want. Plus, one of the positions was for a cheesemonger, and how cool would that be? I even wrote up a cute cover letter about how I've been a huge fan of their company ever since I first pushed one of their kid-sized carts up the tiny aisles of their original store in Austin.

Well, it turns out that B.A. in English does not qualify you to stock shelves at a grocery store. I got the second of two rejection emails last Friday, and, even though I sort of suspected it was coming, reading that second was quite a blow--a sucker-punch, really--to my ego. I was initially puzzled as to why this particular rejection cut me so deeply (after all, I've weathered a lot of rejections in the past thirteen months), but I've concluded that I had just started to realize how much I care about food and had been hoping a job at Whole Foods would be a tiny step forward in pursuing that interest.

Now, I don't want to be a chef or a farmer and I don't want to open a restaurant, which is part of the reason I've had such a hard time figuring out that this interest in food could potentially be a career path. (Full disclosure: I would like to own a restaurant, but only if it was a coffee shop/ bakery attached to a super-cool bookstore with a garden in back-- sort of Book People and Explore Books meet the East Side Cafe and Tartine. There would also have to be a bookstore cat. And maybe also an art gallery.) But, as I sat on my bed nursing my bruised ego, it finally occurred to me that I could work on what I guess you could call the Michael Pollan end of the food world. It's actually a little embarrassing that this possibility didn't occur to me sooner. Not only do I cook at least four nights a week, but my family owns a bison ranch that's all about sustainability, my mom has been super-into food for as long as I can remember (which is how I came to be so familiar with Whole Foods in the first place), and I even wrote my college application essay about cooking and how it brings people together. Moreover, I've always loved farmers markets, urban farms, and community gardens, and am constantly on the lookout for articles like these about food and farming.

I mean, duh. Of course I should be looking for jobs that have to with food.

So, if I ever get regular access to the internet again, I will definitely be looking into food jobs, as well as the graduate programs at The University of Gastronomic Sciences, the Slow Food movement's university. Frankly, taking classes on the social history of food, slow food on film, culinary techniques, and gastro-writing as a candidate for a Master's in Food Culture and Communication sounds like a lot more fun than stocking shelves anyway. So, Whole Foods, it was definitely your loss and my gain. Ha!

Experiencing technical difficulties

I apologize for the lack up updates this week. We currently have no internet in the apartment, though we just discovered that we do have mice to keep us company while we try to keep ourselves entertained without computers. Lovely.

Update: Perhaps I should mention that when I say "we," I'm talking about my roommate and myself--not just myself in the royal we.

Mission Mission is my hero.

Not only do they offer consistently entertaining and unexpected coverage of what's happening around the neighborhood, they also graciously agreed to add me to their blogroll. And then they were still gracious when I made a total fool of myself by asking again to be added when they'd done it already. (I'd checked to see if I was on there and failed to notice the link... maybe those alphabetizing skills have atrophied a bit in the past couple of weeks.) Thanks so much to Allan and all the other Mission Missioners.

Woohoo!!

Here's a link to their super-cool blog.

This is why I care so much about doing good work.

My mom pointed me to the cover article in last week's New York Times Magazine. Written by Nicholas Kristoff and his wife, Sheryl WuDunn, "The Women's Crusade" chronicles the appalling conditions in which far too many women in the developing world live out their lives. You should really read the article for yourself if you haven't already, but I'll provide a very short and very incomplete summary here. Basically, Kristoff and WuDunn write, there are anywhere between 60 million and 107 million girls and women who are missing. They've been aborted after their sex was discovered via ultrasound; allowed to die as children (baby girls in some countries aren't given the same health care as baby boys); or kidnapped and enslaved, sometimes as sex workers. For perspective, they note that number is larger than the number of men killed in battle in all the wars of 20th century combined.

That's astonishing by itself, but, at least for me, the real punch of this article lies not so much in its compilation of facts, but in the way it explains the tragedy and stupidity of this "gendercide" and its implications for the rest of the world. There's a growing body of research that suggests that educating girls and giving aid to poor women may be most effective ways to alleviate global poverty. Many of the world's poorest countries are also those with the lowest rates of female education, and researchers are concluding that the two may be related: by neglecting girls' education, those countries are essentially using only half the talent available to them.

As I was reading, it occurred to me one of the reasons--if not the main reason--that I care so much about doing good work is simply because I can. I touched on this in an op-ed I linked to in an earlier post, but I think it bears repeating, especially because I worry that sometimes this blog makes me sounds as though I think I'm somehow entitled to a good job, when in fact nothing could be farther from the truth. I know I'm incredibly privileged even to be looking for a job in the first place. Had I been born almost anywhere else at almost any other time, my job would be raising children, and that would be that. So, once again, I'm not kidding when I say I feel like I have a moral obligation to find employment that will help other people in meaningful ways. And if that doesn't convince people I'm a motivated worker, I don't know what will.

Should I stay or should I go?

Certain people take great pleasure in teasing me about my wimpy music tastes. While I (grudgingly) admit that there’s a bit of truth to their claims that I only like sad, wispy indie bands, I would also like to point out that one of my favorite albums of all time is London Calling. That’s the one with Paul Simonon smashing his bass on the album cover, and it’s neither sad nor wimpy by any stretch of the imagination.

The reason I mention The Clash (other than to give myself a bit of street cred) is that one of their songs--annoyingly, not off of London Calling, which would have made for a tidier blog post--has been stuck in my head a lot lately. As you have probably gathered by the title of this posting, that song is “Should I Stay or Should I Go?” and I’ve been thinking about as I try to decide how much longer to stay in San Francisco.

Albert Einstein once defined insanity as “doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results,” and it occurred to me one morning last week that I’ve essentially been driving myself insane out here. It’s exhausting to be on the lookout for jobs all the time; it’s exhausting trying to figure out how to spend my days when I don’t have freelance work; it’s exhausting never to be able to plan anything more than two weeks in advance; and it’s beyond exhausting when none of it gets me anywhere. I sort of hoped that once I graduated college I’d morph into some sort of bohemian who could just go with the flow and embrace uncertainty, and while I’ve gone from being a type A+ to a type A- or maybe even a type B+, it turns out that I’m still me, and that means I need a routine and a sense of direction, two things I definitely lack out here.

(UPDATE: After writing that, it occurred to me that I actually had no idea whether or not I’m a type A. I just took a personality test online, and apparently I am smack in the middle of type A and type B. This means I am well-balanced and easy to be around. Sweet. Now hire me so I can share my healthy attitude and general charm with your office!)

I can’t pinpoint precisely when I decided it might be time to stop trying to make it out here, but I woke up one morning about a week ago feeling too drained to plunk myself down in a cafe and get excited about jobs that always turn out to be dead ends. I don’t know that things will be better in Austin, but I’m ready for a bit of sanity and stability and I don’t think I’m going to find them in San Francisco. Moreover, Texas isn’t broke; I know people over the age of 30 and therefore have at least a shot of doing some networking; and Austin isn’t a mecca for highly ambitious recent college grads in quite the same way San Francisco is. Plus my family’s there, and I miss them.

So now what? At what point do I give up? Doesn’t it seem like there should be some kind of guidebook for making this choice? If I go there could be trouble, but if I stay it will be double (or even triple, as I could continue driving myself insane for months). The only thing I can imagine making me feel better about making this impossible choice would be if I could smash my Fender against a stage in front of an adoring crowd after I'd reached a decision.

Since that seems unlikely, I guess I'll just go watch another episode of Freaks and Geeks, which finally came via Netflix yesterday. I can't even describe how much I already love this show. I’ve only gotten through the first two episodes, but I’m already dreading the day when I get to the end of the season. It’s that good.