Saturday, May 30, 2009
A Note on Sri Lanka
In Le Monde I found this article, "Sri Lanka: comment faire taire les témoins d'un massacre," which summarizes the reports of a doctor working in a Sri Lankan hospital, which came under mortar attacks from the government forces and then was swamped with casualties despite the lack of medical equipment and any guarantee of safety. This doctor and two others are (as of the time of the article's publication) in prison on the suspicion of having made rebel-friendly remarks to the press.
Lightning, Soldering, and Native Speaking
Lately we've been having my favourite kind of weather (except for snow that falls in large flakes): wind, impressive grey clouds, thunder, lightning, and big, silvery rain. This evening it has cleared away so that the waxing crescent or gibbous moon (I'm not so well up on the terminology) is shining down on me out of a clear though dusk-tinged, blue southern sky.
Today I woke up after 4 p.m. I've been sleeping twelve to fourteen hours per night(/day) again lately. This schedule doesn't bother me as much as it often does, firstly because it doesn't leave me too groggy, and secondly because it's far better to dream about domes and skyscrapers and being a princess (at times I am like a four-year-old), etc., than to be awake and bored. It's only irritating that my sleeping life is presently much more exciting — thanks to the volcanic eruptions, assassinations, and so on and so forth — than its waking counterpart.
I played the piano for a while, and aside from playing the customary impromptus and Brahms waltzes, explored Beethoven's bagatelles (my piano teacher taught me the first, and Ge. plays one of the later ones) and Mozart's Piano Concerto No. 21, in C major. Then I took up my "singing" again (today it was the first three verses of "Das Wandern" and Händel's Largo from Xerxes), wavering on and off key, but not doing so badly considering the late lack of practice.
Intermittently I went to the corner room to watch Papa constructing a circuit board for a work-related gadget. It involved soldering, which is one of my favourite things to watch, because of the resin's scent, the exciting sense of danger instilled by the heat of the soldering iron, and the gleaming peaks and globes of the melted lead/tin alloy. Papa used to have a shrunken, dry-as-a-bone sponge to wipe the lead on, but he probably threw it out before we moved back to Germany; now he uses a thick folded tissue, which has not caught flame once, much (I'll admit) to my surprise.
Anyway, temporarily I don't have many projects going on. I wrote two poems maybe three days ago, but consider them middling and not particularly unique; on the story front I abandoned one tale after realizing that it was meandering further and further from reality; and though I have vaguely thought of going to the Scilly Islands or Sark or the US there are no travels in prospective. Every now and then I try to learn a modicum of Spanish, with a corresponding modicum of success. Then I think about doing volunteer work in homeless shelters or with immigrants or something of the sort, only to remember that I have no useful experience or expertise.
I haven't applied for new jobs, either, and have (somewhat randomly) wondered if I should write that I speak "some" French so as not to seem overqualified for things. It is, by the way, annoying to know that speaking three languages accent-free is apparently of no use whatsoever, due to the tyrannous ubiquity of the "native speaker" requirement. (It is true, though, that my French is not nearly as good as it could/should be.) But perhaps I could acquire a heavy French-Canadian accent and native-speak that, hehehe!
Today I woke up after 4 p.m. I've been sleeping twelve to fourteen hours per night(/day) again lately. This schedule doesn't bother me as much as it often does, firstly because it doesn't leave me too groggy, and secondly because it's far better to dream about domes and skyscrapers and being a princess (at times I am like a four-year-old), etc., than to be awake and bored. It's only irritating that my sleeping life is presently much more exciting — thanks to the volcanic eruptions, assassinations, and so on and so forth — than its waking counterpart.
I played the piano for a while, and aside from playing the customary impromptus and Brahms waltzes, explored Beethoven's bagatelles (my piano teacher taught me the first, and Ge. plays one of the later ones) and Mozart's Piano Concerto No. 21, in C major. Then I took up my "singing" again (today it was the first three verses of "Das Wandern" and Händel's Largo from Xerxes), wavering on and off key, but not doing so badly considering the late lack of practice.
Intermittently I went to the corner room to watch Papa constructing a circuit board for a work-related gadget. It involved soldering, which is one of my favourite things to watch, because of the resin's scent, the exciting sense of danger instilled by the heat of the soldering iron, and the gleaming peaks and globes of the melted lead/tin alloy. Papa used to have a shrunken, dry-as-a-bone sponge to wipe the lead on, but he probably threw it out before we moved back to Germany; now he uses a thick folded tissue, which has not caught flame once, much (I'll admit) to my surprise.
Anyway, temporarily I don't have many projects going on. I wrote two poems maybe three days ago, but consider them middling and not particularly unique; on the story front I abandoned one tale after realizing that it was meandering further and further from reality; and though I have vaguely thought of going to the Scilly Islands or Sark or the US there are no travels in prospective. Every now and then I try to learn a modicum of Spanish, with a corresponding modicum of success. Then I think about doing volunteer work in homeless shelters or with immigrants or something of the sort, only to remember that I have no useful experience or expertise.
I haven't applied for new jobs, either, and have (somewhat randomly) wondered if I should write that I speak "some" French so as not to seem overqualified for things. It is, by the way, annoying to know that speaking three languages accent-free is apparently of no use whatsoever, due to the tyrannous ubiquity of the "native speaker" requirement. (It is true, though, that my French is not nearly as good as it could/should be.) But perhaps I could acquire a heavy French-Canadian accent and native-speak that, hehehe!
Monday, May 25, 2009
The Battle With the Impromptus
For the past months I've been trying to make sense of Schubert's impromptus Op. 90 No. 2 and 4, and Op. posth. 142 No. 2 and 3. The first two are not as difficult to interpret. The principal problem has been finding meaning in them so that the repetitions aren't boring, and then in wangling a clear and fluid tone despite the necessity of the pedal. I tend to accidentally hold down one note while I play the next, for instance, which of course creates an incoherent soup of sound. Ideally, too, Impromptu No. 2 would not sound precisely like Chopin, but striving toward that aim is a losing, and possibly unwinnable, battle. In March I put up a recording of No. 4 on my YouTube account, and despite the errors and the slow tempo I'm proud of it, so here it is:
As for the second pair of impromptus, these are ones that are very difficult to interpret. One thing I haven't managed yet is to bring in a Viennese lilt when it would be appropriate. I don't much like when one can't tell which composer is being rendered, which is why I believe such idiosyncracies to be necessary elements. Another thing is that I must figure out the rhythm for the right-hand eighth notes in No. 2, and not have lame pauses everywhere because I'm trying not to rush it. Thirdly, my pedalling is off. Ideally it should illumine the notes from within, as it were, but with me it's painfully obvious when I've clamped down my foot and when my foot should have lifted a long time ago. I do know that the trick is to syncopate the pedalling, i.e. press the pedal instantly after the first note is sounded, instead of at the same time, to avoid a sound-soup; in practice, unfortunately, it is difficult to remember it consistently, and my motor coordination is honestly lousy in any case. But I think that, like the B flat major sonata, the most important element in these impromptus is the sincere feeling that should animate it, and evidently when I sit down to "tickle the ivories" I am often neither in a noble, profound, nor sympathetic frame of mind. So it is not modesty but the truth to note that Papa still plays them far better than I do.
As for other music, I'm working on Rachmaninoff's g minor prelude, which is going well. I hope to give it a rather Russian air, because though Rachmaninoff rendered it in an elegant, fluent Frenchy way (or so I think), I find the composition itself distinctly Russian (except perhaps for the lyrical middle part) and prefer to play it a bit gruffly and deeply. Emil Gilels's version is most likely the benchmark, but of course I want to find my own interpretation, too, so I've avoided listening to it lately.
Then there are the Haydn trios which Papa, Pudel and I play (Hob. XV No. 21, 24, and 25). Pudel suggested that I practice them, and though the suggestion frankly annoyed me a bit because I can sightread them perfectly aptly (in theory; in practice I stumble a lot in the fear of stumbling), I've acted on the advice and profited as a result. Playing duets and trios is still a largely foreign concept to me; it's practically impossible to complement the cello or violin parts properly. While I despise ostentatious accompaniments, when I have the melody it does often sound like I am straining to be louder than the other instrument(s), instead of naturally holding the prominent position or blending in with the other instrument(s) as an equal voice. And it was only in the last trio-playing session where I tardily realized the blatantly obvious fact that I should pay attention to the phrasing that Pudel uses and apply that to my own part. So, for instance, if he slurs a pair of triplets in the melody separately, I shouldn't play them as if they were both slurred together. One other deficiency is that whereas the trios are often delightfully lighthearted, I play them like a cynical grump (I think I am wonderfully suited to Beethoven's compositions in this respect) and positively fail to convey a modicum of the untroubled, serene, and nice quality that is a beautiful characteristic in classical-period music.
As for other pieces, I've picked up Schumann's Kinderszenen again; I still don't play them well but progress has been made, since "Glückes genug" is no longer the rambunctious chaos it once was, though my recent renditions of "Der Dichter spricht" have become surpassingly lame and stilted, and "Hasche-Mann" is as rife as ever with wrong notes. "Fürchtenmachen" is especially knotty because it's so hard to tie the heterogeneous parts together into a musical unity. Then I still play a Scarlatti sonata, the first movement of Bach's Concerto in d minor, and Chopin's "Raindrop Prelude" (which is not going famously, though the other two are improving). And altogether I am listening to countless old recordings on YouTube, foraging for interpreters and interpretations that I like, and enjoying the process a great deal.
A propos of interpreters and interpretations that I like, here is Edwin Fischer playing Impromptu Op. 142 No. 3 [the video is sound-only]:
It may be absurd, but the third variation depresses me horribly at times; it's not that I consciously precipitate myself into that state of mind, but the first bars already act as a trigger. So I tend to play it in an angry way that doesn't conduce to sentiments of overwhelming pathos; being mundanely aware that I'm making a consummate hash of the pedalling helps too. But I like the amusing, subtly Tyrolean manner in which Fischer plays the fourth variation; also, of course the final variation is happy again, and it ends in a satisfying, weighty and thoughtful reiteration of the theme.
Last of all, here is a sampling of my YouTube film bookmarks:
1. Marian Anderson, "Erbarme Dich" (Bach)
2. Janet Baker, "Ogni pena più spietata" (Pergolesi)
3. Pau Casals, Kol Nidrei (Bruch)
4. Pau Casals, Nikolai Mednikoff; The Swan (Saint-Saëns)
5. Dinu Lipatti, Piano Concerto No. 21 (Mozart), Part I
6. Francis Planté, Op. 67 No. 4 from Lieder ohne Worte (Mendelssohn)
7. Josef Hofmann, "Grande Valse Brillante" in A flat major (Chopin)
8. Alfred Grünfeld, Mazurka in a minor (Chopin)
As for the second pair of impromptus, these are ones that are very difficult to interpret. One thing I haven't managed yet is to bring in a Viennese lilt when it would be appropriate. I don't much like when one can't tell which composer is being rendered, which is why I believe such idiosyncracies to be necessary elements. Another thing is that I must figure out the rhythm for the right-hand eighth notes in No. 2, and not have lame pauses everywhere because I'm trying not to rush it. Thirdly, my pedalling is off. Ideally it should illumine the notes from within, as it were, but with me it's painfully obvious when I've clamped down my foot and when my foot should have lifted a long time ago. I do know that the trick is to syncopate the pedalling, i.e. press the pedal instantly after the first note is sounded, instead of at the same time, to avoid a sound-soup; in practice, unfortunately, it is difficult to remember it consistently, and my motor coordination is honestly lousy in any case. But I think that, like the B flat major sonata, the most important element in these impromptus is the sincere feeling that should animate it, and evidently when I sit down to "tickle the ivories" I am often neither in a noble, profound, nor sympathetic frame of mind. So it is not modesty but the truth to note that Papa still plays them far better than I do.
As for other music, I'm working on Rachmaninoff's g minor prelude, which is going well. I hope to give it a rather Russian air, because though Rachmaninoff rendered it in an elegant, fluent Frenchy way (or so I think), I find the composition itself distinctly Russian (except perhaps for the lyrical middle part) and prefer to play it a bit gruffly and deeply. Emil Gilels's version is most likely the benchmark, but of course I want to find my own interpretation, too, so I've avoided listening to it lately.
Then there are the Haydn trios which Papa, Pudel and I play (Hob. XV No. 21, 24, and 25). Pudel suggested that I practice them, and though the suggestion frankly annoyed me a bit because I can sightread them perfectly aptly (in theory; in practice I stumble a lot in the fear of stumbling), I've acted on the advice and profited as a result. Playing duets and trios is still a largely foreign concept to me; it's practically impossible to complement the cello or violin parts properly. While I despise ostentatious accompaniments, when I have the melody it does often sound like I am straining to be louder than the other instrument(s), instead of naturally holding the prominent position or blending in with the other instrument(s) as an equal voice. And it was only in the last trio-playing session where I tardily realized the blatantly obvious fact that I should pay attention to the phrasing that Pudel uses and apply that to my own part. So, for instance, if he slurs a pair of triplets in the melody separately, I shouldn't play them as if they were both slurred together. One other deficiency is that whereas the trios are often delightfully lighthearted, I play them like a cynical grump (I think I am wonderfully suited to Beethoven's compositions in this respect) and positively fail to convey a modicum of the untroubled, serene, and nice quality that is a beautiful characteristic in classical-period music.
As for other pieces, I've picked up Schumann's Kinderszenen again; I still don't play them well but progress has been made, since "Glückes genug" is no longer the rambunctious chaos it once was, though my recent renditions of "Der Dichter spricht" have become surpassingly lame and stilted, and "Hasche-Mann" is as rife as ever with wrong notes. "Fürchtenmachen" is especially knotty because it's so hard to tie the heterogeneous parts together into a musical unity. Then I still play a Scarlatti sonata, the first movement of Bach's Concerto in d minor, and Chopin's "Raindrop Prelude" (which is not going famously, though the other two are improving). And altogether I am listening to countless old recordings on YouTube, foraging for interpreters and interpretations that I like, and enjoying the process a great deal.
A propos of interpreters and interpretations that I like, here is Edwin Fischer playing Impromptu Op. 142 No. 3 [the video is sound-only]:
It may be absurd, but the third variation depresses me horribly at times; it's not that I consciously precipitate myself into that state of mind, but the first bars already act as a trigger. So I tend to play it in an angry way that doesn't conduce to sentiments of overwhelming pathos; being mundanely aware that I'm making a consummate hash of the pedalling helps too. But I like the amusing, subtly Tyrolean manner in which Fischer plays the fourth variation; also, of course the final variation is happy again, and it ends in a satisfying, weighty and thoughtful reiteration of the theme.
Last of all, here is a sampling of my YouTube film bookmarks:
1. Marian Anderson, "Erbarme Dich" (Bach)
2. Janet Baker, "Ogni pena più spietata" (Pergolesi)
3. Pau Casals, Kol Nidrei (Bruch)
4. Pau Casals, Nikolai Mednikoff; The Swan (Saint-Saëns)
5. Dinu Lipatti, Piano Concerto No. 21 (Mozart), Part I
6. Francis Planté, Op. 67 No. 4 from Lieder ohne Worte (Mendelssohn)
7. Josef Hofmann, "Grande Valse Brillante" in A flat major (Chopin)
8. Alfred Grünfeld, Mazurka in a minor (Chopin)
The Job Search: A Chronology
March 31, 2009 — I apply for a private housekeeping job. No reply.
April 1 — Visit to the bank prompts resolve to obtain employment as soon as possible.
April 7 — I apply for a job filling in for a church pianist, which was advertised on Craigslist. The pianist responds and gives me the telephone number of the pastor; I call him, and he invites me to come to the church on Good Friday or Easter Sunday to see the ropes. On Friday I duly go to the Good Friday service at a Methodist church, tucked away in a courtyard in a nice and curiously village-like part of Charlottenburg. Upon seeing the pianist in action it's fairly clear that I am not prepared for it, and I sense that I am much younger than the pianist and pastor expected. But I don't want to pusillanimously back out of it, so I merely leave things as they are and wait for another e-mail. None comes.
April ? — There is a florist's apprenticeship listed at Meinestadt.de. I want to go to the florist's shop first to see what it's like, especially as it's far out in southern Berlin where I've never been, so I look up the shop's telephone number. It is just before 6 p.m., and while I do reach a lady who gives me the number of the boss, this boss must have gone home already, because though I call twice there is no answer. After that I decide to let it go.
April 14 — In the Tip magazine listings I find and apply for an internship helping out at the offices of a magazine publishing company.
April 19 — I apply for a job as a tour guide, found on Craigslist. But I doubt that my talents lie in that direction, so I honestly list my deficiencies and leave it to the company to decide whether training would alleviate them. (If anything I'd most likely be good at giving tours of houses, where the echo would amplify my quiet voice; I'd still need training beforehand.) No reply.
April 20 — Somewhere I come across a job listing for a catering/restaurant chain which wants waiters and other service staff, and I apply. No reply.
ca. April 21 — The hope of finding work dwindles, and I spend a very dark and gloomy day. But I refuse to give up and try to keep busy until my mood improves; this works and I feel grimly proud.
April 22 — The publishing company unexpectedly calls, and I am invited to an interview.
April 24 — Of course I come late and there's no interview at all. For the rest of the day I mope, thoroughly.
April 25 — The moping is over. I plan to pick up the job search again after a day or two of rest.
ca. April 26 — The illusion vanishes, and I realize that for the present I have no motivation and no hope. My job-searching and email-checking feels like a pathological reflex at this point. But I keep on going, though less intensively. What does not help so much is that the internship job listing is still up on the website (as it will continue to be for another week or so), thumbing its nose at me, so to speak.
May ? — A doctor's practice in Potsdam wants someone to help tend the building's gardens, as I find out on Meinestadt.de. I telephone the number, and then twice try adding area codes, but no iteration is valid.
May 17 — In Tip magazine I see and respond to a listing for an editorial internship at a different publishing company. No reply.
May 24 — Through Meinestadt.de I find that Rossmann, a retail chain, is looking for sales helpers. I fill out a detailed online application, attach a photo, cover letter, c.v., and university transcript in the most elaborate action to date. This morning I find a very kindly framed (form) e-mail reply telling me that the position has been filled; I am, above all, extremely grateful that this has cut short the suspense, waiting, etc., so that I can get on with the job search.
To summarize, this whole process has been a protracted pain in the posterior, but at least I've learned that I do have sufficient strength of mind now to pull myself out of bad moods, even in the absence of exterior distractions. And I am also happy that I've gone about the job-searching in a straightforward and fair way. So it's been worth it. Of course it would be even more worth it if I actually had a nice job now. (c:
April 1 — Visit to the bank prompts resolve to obtain employment as soon as possible.
April 7 — I apply for a job filling in for a church pianist, which was advertised on Craigslist. The pianist responds and gives me the telephone number of the pastor; I call him, and he invites me to come to the church on Good Friday or Easter Sunday to see the ropes. On Friday I duly go to the Good Friday service at a Methodist church, tucked away in a courtyard in a nice and curiously village-like part of Charlottenburg. Upon seeing the pianist in action it's fairly clear that I am not prepared for it, and I sense that I am much younger than the pianist and pastor expected. But I don't want to pusillanimously back out of it, so I merely leave things as they are and wait for another e-mail. None comes.
April ? — There is a florist's apprenticeship listed at Meinestadt.de. I want to go to the florist's shop first to see what it's like, especially as it's far out in southern Berlin where I've never been, so I look up the shop's telephone number. It is just before 6 p.m., and while I do reach a lady who gives me the number of the boss, this boss must have gone home already, because though I call twice there is no answer. After that I decide to let it go.
April 14 — In the Tip magazine listings I find and apply for an internship helping out at the offices of a magazine publishing company.
April 19 — I apply for a job as a tour guide, found on Craigslist. But I doubt that my talents lie in that direction, so I honestly list my deficiencies and leave it to the company to decide whether training would alleviate them. (If anything I'd most likely be good at giving tours of houses, where the echo would amplify my quiet voice; I'd still need training beforehand.) No reply.
April 20 — Somewhere I come across a job listing for a catering/restaurant chain which wants waiters and other service staff, and I apply. No reply.
ca. April 21 — The hope of finding work dwindles, and I spend a very dark and gloomy day. But I refuse to give up and try to keep busy until my mood improves; this works and I feel grimly proud.
April 22 — The publishing company unexpectedly calls, and I am invited to an interview.
April 24 — Of course I come late and there's no interview at all. For the rest of the day I mope, thoroughly.
April 25 — The moping is over. I plan to pick up the job search again after a day or two of rest.
ca. April 26 — The illusion vanishes, and I realize that for the present I have no motivation and no hope. My job-searching and email-checking feels like a pathological reflex at this point. But I keep on going, though less intensively. What does not help so much is that the internship job listing is still up on the website (as it will continue to be for another week or so), thumbing its nose at me, so to speak.
May ? — A doctor's practice in Potsdam wants someone to help tend the building's gardens, as I find out on Meinestadt.de. I telephone the number, and then twice try adding area codes, but no iteration is valid.
May 17 — In Tip magazine I see and respond to a listing for an editorial internship at a different publishing company. No reply.
May 24 — Through Meinestadt.de I find that Rossmann, a retail chain, is looking for sales helpers. I fill out a detailed online application, attach a photo, cover letter, c.v., and university transcript in the most elaborate action to date. This morning I find a very kindly framed (form) e-mail reply telling me that the position has been filled; I am, above all, extremely grateful that this has cut short the suspense, waiting, etc., so that I can get on with the job search.
To summarize, this whole process has been a protracted pain in the posterior, but at least I've learned that I do have sufficient strength of mind now to pull myself out of bad moods, even in the absence of exterior distractions. And I am also happy that I've gone about the job-searching in a straightforward and fair way. So it's been worth it. Of course it would be even more worth it if I actually had a nice job now. (c:
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
A Brief(?) Lamentation
After a rather horrible two-and-a-half weeks, I am temporarily rehabilitated from discouragement, etc., and the job search has picked up again. I wish it weren't such a depressing process. I'm insecure about what prospective employers will think about my qualifications, though I regret nothing as far as dropping out of university goes, due to the possibly mistaken belief that a bachelor's degree is primarily a piece of paper than can prove much or, more often, little. What I regret far more is that I haven't proper work experience, as it would evidently be far more useful in fitting me for a job and in giving me a better understanding of what awaits me.
I also don't like including the URL for this blog in my c.v., because this is meant to be read by people who are interested in some of the subjects and not by people trying to form a critical sense of who I am. But it is a representative overview of my writing and it corroborates much of the information in the rest of the c.v. (It proves, for instance, that I've genuinely been sitting at home since July 2006, not frequenting crack houses or engaging in other more exciting but less reputable activities). And mentioning it doesn't make me much more self-conscious than usual because the chances that prospective employers are going to do more than glance at it, or be bored to tears, are infinitesimal.
What's also depressing is coming across so many sleazy jobs, jobs for which I'm underqualified, and jobs from companies who choose to remain anonymous and don't give sufficient detail, so that it's impossible to tell what precisely they do and what precisely they might require. As a friend of fine language, catchphrases like "future-orientated" and "young and dynamic" equally puzzle and annoy me, especially the second example, which I think is an obvious euphemism for "no old people." Most of all I hate spurious job advertisements that prey on the desperation and gullibility of the unemployed; it's a horrid way of kicking people when they're down.
Anyway, aside from looking for work in Berlin I've begun looking for work in New York again. Even though the chances are not great, I still hope that I can find an employment niche, besides which I am still determined not to neglect fair opportunities when they are offered.
It would be nice to say that career isn't the only thing on my mind right now, but largely it is. I've been thinking about stories but haven't come up with anything, the piano is going badly, there is no especially compelling news saga at present (though I have been following the Miss California nonsense with vivid interest, especially because opposition to gay marriage is so difficult for me to understand), the piano concert we attended on Friday was worthwhile but disappointing (and I should have slept more beforehand), and I have come across no particularly gripping films or books. Most of all I need a good, solid project.
Looking at the positive side of things, though, I'm convinced that this misery is a good preparation for a job. It could scarcely be worse, and if it's much better, I'll be all the more contented and hard-working (q.v. university, after the gap year which was largely devoted to insecurity and brooding).
I also don't like including the URL for this blog in my c.v., because this is meant to be read by people who are interested in some of the subjects and not by people trying to form a critical sense of who I am. But it is a representative overview of my writing and it corroborates much of the information in the rest of the c.v. (It proves, for instance, that I've genuinely been sitting at home since July 2006, not frequenting crack houses or engaging in other more exciting but less reputable activities). And mentioning it doesn't make me much more self-conscious than usual because the chances that prospective employers are going to do more than glance at it, or be bored to tears, are infinitesimal.
What's also depressing is coming across so many sleazy jobs, jobs for which I'm underqualified, and jobs from companies who choose to remain anonymous and don't give sufficient detail, so that it's impossible to tell what precisely they do and what precisely they might require. As a friend of fine language, catchphrases like "future-orientated" and "young and dynamic" equally puzzle and annoy me, especially the second example, which I think is an obvious euphemism for "no old people." Most of all I hate spurious job advertisements that prey on the desperation and gullibility of the unemployed; it's a horrid way of kicking people when they're down.
Anyway, aside from looking for work in Berlin I've begun looking for work in New York again. Even though the chances are not great, I still hope that I can find an employment niche, besides which I am still determined not to neglect fair opportunities when they are offered.
It would be nice to say that career isn't the only thing on my mind right now, but largely it is. I've been thinking about stories but haven't come up with anything, the piano is going badly, there is no especially compelling news saga at present (though I have been following the Miss California nonsense with vivid interest, especially because opposition to gay marriage is so difficult for me to understand), the piano concert we attended on Friday was worthwhile but disappointing (and I should have slept more beforehand), and I have come across no particularly gripping films or books. Most of all I need a good, solid project.
Looking at the positive side of things, though, I'm convinced that this misery is a good preparation for a job. It could scarcely be worse, and if it's much better, I'll be all the more contented and hard-working (q.v. university, after the gap year which was largely devoted to insecurity and brooding).
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
