Quarter Life Funk

Me oh my. Yesterday, whilst Googling “quarter inch to eighth inch adapter” with the hopes of finding an adapter so that I could use a normal recording mic with my video camera, my phone took me in an entirely different direction. Once I had typed “quarter,” it brought up some suggestions. Did I mean quarter life crisis? My God, thought I, maybe I did!

So then I read all about a quarter life crisis, which is a wonderful coined phrase used to describe this super awkward period of life right after the collegiate years, when one feels one’s childhood is finally ready to be (mostly) buried and the big bad world of suits and ties lies ahead. I never knew they had a name for it, but there you go. Though I’ve definitely been in a funk ever since I saw the end of college in sight, I wouldn’t call my current situation a crisis, per se. I prefer the word funk, because it makes it seem like it might actually be fun.

My apologies to you, blogosphere, for not writing sooner. You must have been worried sick about me. The last you heard, my Portland trip was a bust and I was still an unemployed college graduate. Sadly, nothing much has changed in that department, except that for some inexplicable reason I feel as if I’m closer than ever to employment. It’s just one of those things that you can feel. Maybe the ghosts whispered it while I slept, I’m not sure.

I finished my short film. It’s here, and I’m pretty proud of it. Having watched quite a few short films on YouTube before, and having also watched the first films of some of today’s big directors, I feel like things could definitely have been worse. Lightyears worse, even, because I at least had a script and friends willing to hang out with a camera for a few hours. Also, my brother made an awesome soundtrack that even helps cover up some audio difficulties (curse you, low mic battery!). The next film is soon to be shot, and a fake trailer for another one already exists but is currently being scored. Stay tuned!

Allow me to pick up where I left off.

Brit and I got back from Portland, still kind of fuming about the whole info interview debacle. I kept applying to jobs even though it literally made me feel ill for a few days, and before I knew it the end of our time in our apartment in Denton was in sight. We helped Josh and Lori move stuff to their new place in Plano, then hung out at John and Claire’s, but the end didn’t really feel real until we gave Thor away.

That’s right. Our lovely ball of composted hair, which has for two years lurked in a bag inside a shoebox with a scary face drawn on the side, has finally been set free. (This shouldn’t, however, stop you from Facebook friending him if you have yet to do so. He’s a really friendly guy, and is pretty active on Facebook. How he does it, I’m not necessarily sure, but he manages.) In the midst of cleaning the apartment and making it all look presentable, we pulled Thor Harebagg from his home and put him in an Easter basket that was a few sizes too small for his disgustingly large girth. Then, with a “Free to a good home” sign taped on top, we left him by the gate. The next morning he had been whisked away to a better place. Or maybe he crawled away. That’s right, think of a bag of hair crawling. I’ll wait for you to return from vomiting.

Anywho. We had Josh’s Bachelor Party in the apartment. There weren’t many of us but it was a good time. As the night wore on, people fell left and right, and as certain parties fell asleep in prayer or slept with their heads in toilets, the fateful few managed to stay up until 6 am. It’s been a long time since I stayed up that late, and it was pretty weird to see the sun on the horizon right before climbing into bed. All throughout college, I never pulled one of the all-nighters I would frequently hear my classmates talk about. Sometimes spoken with a groan and sometimes with a smile, the all-nightee always seemed somewhat proud of their lack of sleep.

The next morning we all woke up around noon and got food from a taqueria so authentic that the menu was in Spanish and they called our order numbers out in Spanish. Upon seeing us, however, they repeated it in English. Then we did the only thing you can do when you don’t feel great and you’re eating authentic Mexican food in the middle of the day on a blisteringly hot Sunday. We watched Machete. And you know what? It’s still a great movie. Yeah, I know that if Rodriguez really wanted a grindhouse exploitation film that he shouldn’t have put all his political commentary in there, but that’s what makes it great. You don’t care so much that you start to care again. Especially when the most racist guy in the movie is de Niro.

Our last week in the apartment was spent doing the normal things along with making big trips back and forth to Plano so I could clear out all my stuff over time. And then, before we knew it, we were out. No more Denton residency. Back home to the parents, to the same house I lived in until going off to college. And that’s fine; it’s a nice house and I get along with my family. The only problem is that, after Portland, I really got my mind set on something entirely new. Now that new is looking like Austin or Albuquerque, and which one wins out will be decided by which one calls/emails me first about one of the bajillion jobs I’ve applied for.

Or, if neither of them ever responds, I might just pack up and move to one of them and hit the streets similar to how we did in Portland. No, things didn’t work out up there, but the unemployment rates a lot lower in the south and I’ll have more than two weeks to search. I know, it’s all madness and it would be nice if graduating college meant something concrete job-wise, but it doesn’t really. Quarter life crisis and all that.

Then Josh and Lori got married. Part of all of my hurrying around and making phone calls was due to the fact that myself and Marcus and Ryan (formerly Smart Foke and now kind of the Telemegasounds, but also still occasionally Smart Foke) were to be the musicians for the reception, and we wanted to do a stellar job. As things turned out, it was pretty stellar. The wedding was nice, and everything went well, and I wish them both great happiness.

Having close friends get married is definitely a signifier of having finally grown up, especially when those friends aren’t very impulsive and have obviously thought through all of the implications and commitments that come with marriage. Josh isn’t marrying to dodge the draft and Lori isn’t (as far as we know) pregnant. It’s a normal, logical marriage. Which means they’re probably the first of many of my close friends to get married, and how weird is that? I pondered this very question while playing Pokemon naught but an hour ago, right before I again got frustrated at the monotony of Pokemon and quit.

Since returning home, my days have been full of finding cool jobs in one of the aforementioned cities, applying to them with all of my heart and soul, getting really uptight because I feel like I’ve sent so many applications that someone should come arrest me, releasing my pent-up stress by playing a few rounds of Team Fortress 2, watching either Mad Men, True Blood, or 30 Rock, and reading either The Big Sleep or Simon Pegg’s autobiography. It’s been an interesting week.

After meeting with a UNT career advisor that was a million times better than the last doofus I met with (the first guy literally just told me how to arrange my resume and then unleashed a pre-canned speech), I realized that I need to be personalizing my approach more to the specific companies. She told me that I should essentially stalk these companies on LinkedIn and any other means I have, then address everything I send them to those people in charge. I’ve taken it a step further and have been trailing a few of the Presidents of these film studios. I’ve been paying close attention to what they’re eating, what kinds of clothes they were, the regularity of their bowel movements…

And here I stop. The next weeks will bring yet more interesting things, including but not limited to: Brit moving far far away to Nashville, hopefully filming my next short film, hopefully finding an awesome job, and hopefully moving to said awesome job and meeting awesome people and then becoming yet more awesome in an awesome city.

So check back soon. I promise I won’t leave you floundering in the dark waters for as long as I did since the last entry. I’ll be around to toss you a life ring just when you’re about to give up your adorable doggy paddle.

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~ by Jon C. Forisha on August 11, 2011.

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