Moving On and Moving Up [Frankie Says…] Jun14

Moving On and Moving Up [Frankie Says…]

Frankie says… Moving on is moving up. I’ve recently gone through some career changes that will ultimately affect my life, and vice versa, of course. When is one not intrinsically attached to the other? For years now, I’ve been supporting myself as a nanny. I was able to begin my writing career because of the flexibility and pay of babysitting. I was able to then foray into producing, again because of the flexibility and pay of babysitting. Now, in the last month, I’ve just quit my last babysitting gig. I have been making enough money as a writer and producer to cut the umbilical cord – pun noted. And just as leaving the comfort of a relationship, stagnant as it may be, can be disconcerting, so is leaving the comfort of a job, even when you don’t love it anymore. I am happy to report that in the last four weeks, I have never been busier – averaging six assignments a week and signing on to another short film as producer. But, but… I seem to be waiting for that proverbial other shoe to drop. What happens when I don’t have six, or even one assignment per week? What do I do then? Call up the families and tell them they must desperately need a date night? I hate that feeling, uncertainty. That’s why I’ve always kept babysitting in my back pocket, because I was never certain that I wouldn’t need it, at some point. But writing and producing just got to be too much (in a good way) and I knew I couldn’t commit to these kids when I was texting/calling/emailing directors, DPs, producers, etc., as their swings swung slower and slower, eventually stopping while my mouth was popping away to Mr. So-and-so....

A Nerd Goes (In)Sane [Single White Nerd]

I walk into my supervisor’s office.  “This,” I say as I pull out a chair, “is going to be a sort of awkward conversation.” I’ve been building up to this conversation for weeks.  I’ve also been putting it off for weeks.  My inability to initiate this talk has dragged me into spirals of self-loathing and driven me into hiding from friends.  Who was I to have friends?  I who was not even able to have a small, completely professional conversation with a colleague?  What the hell was my problem?  Clearly I was fit only to sit on my couch alone practicing magic tricks and mourning for a life filled with dwindling possibilities. Sometimes I can tend towards the overdramatic. Anyway–the conversation.  I pull out the chair and sit down.  “As you think about reconfiguring the team,” I begin, “you should know that I’m going to be leaving the organization at the end of the quarter.”  I wait for a response.  After a brief pause, it comes.  “Ok,” says my supervisor.  “Thanks for giving us so much notice.” And that’s it.  It’s done.  Weeks of angst, lost sleep, and tension and it’s taken less than two minutes to take the action that will reconfigure my life in a significant way. In two months, I will be without full time employment for the first time in about 15 years.  Although the actual conversation was brief, the journey towards it has been long, winding, arduous, and annoying as hell to friends who have listened to me whine about wasting my life for years.  I’ve been hiding behind the security of a job.  Now, my jobs have all been for the social good–very noble.  And they have spoken for at least 50 hours of every week, usually more,...

Stand and Occupy LA [Nerd in Transition] Oct06

Stand and Occupy LA [Nerd in Transition]

It’s 10am and I’m standing in the glare of California’s unforgiving sun. My delicate epidermis glistens as it cooks to a cancerous brown. The lamp post supporting my back displays a Metro sign informing would be riders that the 78, 79 & 378 buses all stop here. There is no bench. There is no shade. There is only the sun, the pole and the wait. At 10 a.m., I am already late for my first political protest. I’ve spent years shaking my head at the government. In coffee shop conversations I have fought for the masses. Online, I spread news articles and amusingly honest memes. Yet never have I gathered to shake the peoples fist. As our Rome falls, and the rubble lands on the backs of the populace, I felt it was time to stand up and yell. I want to yell at the 1% riding off into a future of greater economic prosperity and the banks that continue pushing them forward. I want to scream in the face of my “for the people by the people” government that refuses to end Bush-era tax cuts and take greater measures to help level the playing field. I am desperate to bring back the middle class, because at only 33, I don’t like the prospect of a life toiling from paycheck to paycheck. So I stand waiting for a bus to transport me from my low income neighborhood of Lincoln Heights to Los Angeles modest downtown where myself and an unknown number will gather for the beginning of Occupy L.A.. Unless you only get news from major media outlets you have probably heard of Occupy Wall Street, the protest that began in New York three weeks ago with a few hundred angry students that has...