Tag Archives: growing up

The day the music got really sad

Posted on 6 January 2012 | Leave a comment

It’s official.

My entire youth fits into one New York City subway tote. Granted, a few things are missing like Gilmore Girls seasons 1 – 7, a handful of neon jelly bracelets and a  very beat up pair of red Converses. However the bag does hold my once monstrous CD collection, or what’s left of it.

Around my junior year, I began purging my CD collection. I got rid of anything I’d be embarrassed for someone to see. (I’m looking at you ‘NSYNC “No Strings Attached.”) That was also the time I stopped buying new CDs. After much dogged determination to hold on to the good ole days when new music meant going to Best Buy not clicking “purchase” on iTunes, I finally began buying all my music digitally. The music might not have died that day but it sure sounded melancholy.

Today–or rather tomorrow when I haul my tote bag to The Exchange and see what my youth amounts to in dollars in cents–the music will have unofficially died. All the CDs I’m selling will have a forever home on my iPod, Janis, (as in Joplin), but it still feels a tad bittersweet.

There’s no need to keep them. They take up valuable shelf space and rarely do I pop a CD into my Bose player. It’s much easier to just plug in Janis and hit shuffle. But those CDs got me through my awkward high school years when I wanted to dress like Penny Lane from “Almost Famous” and date the lead guitarist. They got me through college when I struggled with classes, tried to deal with my OCD, and spent nights bemoaning boys with my roommate. Music was and is a huge part of my life, and my collection of 200+ CDs went along with it. I worry that no one will know I’m cool just by looking at my CD collection. After all, scrolling through an iPod just isn’t as romantic.

I remember the mix CDs my friends and I made constantly. I remember the summer of ’06 when my favorite album was The Ataris “So Long, Astoria.” I remember buying CDs from earnest musicians peddling their wares outside the gates of Warped Tour in Cincinnati. I remember singing along to “Hands Down” and “New American Classic” and “Empty Apartment.” I remember when I was convinced no man would ever make me feel the way Chris Carrabba could when he strums that guitar.

I still remember everything.

 

 

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Unemployed no more

Posted on 20 August 2011 | 1 Comment

I got a job.

I didn’t know how to start this post, so I told myself, “Hey, why not just get to the point straight away for once?”

After one year and three months, 209 job applications, two part-time jobs and several embarrassing episodes of tears and ice cream, I am finally employed.

In two weeks, I’ll start at PR Newswire in Cleveland as an assistant editor. It’s not a job I had ever even considered, but after hearing about it and saying what the hell, I applied. The amazing people who work there and the fast-paced atmosphere cinched it for me. I read a lot about the company and it’s nice to know I’ll be working for an innovative company that isn’t scared of social media or the web. (A nice change from the doomsday predictors found in most newsrooms.)

I can’t even begin to explain how excited I am to be going back to Cleveland. I love the city and fortunately, many of the people I love are also in the area. I’m leaving home, but not really.

I suppose this is the part where I give some hopeful message to job seekers. But that would just seem incredibly lame and pompous. The truth is, I would rather pull my toenails off then relive this last year. It sucked. There were few hopeful moments. Mostly, I was angry, discouraged and depressed by the bleak outlook for journalism. But…(because there’s always a but) this past year taught me more about life than four years of college.

Life is messy. It will chew you up and won’t even bother to spit you out. But sometimes it’s kind of great. Sometimes things work out and you’re able to forget about the crappy times because in the end, the good always outweighs the bad. When I got the job offer, everything else just fell away. All of my hard work was for something. I felt validated. That moment was, well it was amazing, and the feeling still hasn’t worn off.

Naturally, I started packing the minute I got home. As you can see, I started with the essentials.

In two weeks, I'll FINALLY be able to unpack all my stuff that's been stored away for 15 months.

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Posted in post college life

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Now is the time for realists

Posted on 6 May 2011 | 1 Comment

172 job applications. 11 months and 21 days.

This is the blog post I’ve been dreading. As long as I kept searching for jobs and peddling my earnest stories, I could put this post off. As long as I kept trying I wouldn’t have to admit defeat.

But almost a year later I’ve finally decided to stop. No more late nights spent on Mediabistro, Ed2010 and JournalismJobs. No more editing and then re-editing my cover letter and resume. No more emails that go unanswered. No more rejections. I’ve spent the past seven years working toward becoming a journalist. I got pretty close too, what with the internships and all the writing I did in college. But all that was just a warm-up for what came next. Unfortunately for me nothing ever came next.

When I started this job search a year ago, I thought it would be fun to keep track. After a few months it wasn't much fun.

A couple of months ago I decided to give myself a deadline. I thrive on deadlines. It’s one of the reasons I like journalism. May 15, 2011: a year after a graduation. (What can I say, I’m a sucker for poetic moments.) However, a couple of weeks ago I realized something: whether I make it to May 15 or May 6, nothing is going to change. I never expected the journalism forces to collide come the 15th and send me a job offer from above. So I cut my deadline a bit early. After 172 job applications, you tend to feel a bit disheartened and are ready for the whole terrible process to finish. Why drag this out 11 more days?

Right now I have a vague idea of what’s next. I’m leaning toward grad school, but I don’t want to say where or for what because then it will never happen. I thought I’d feel sad or disappointed, but in reality I’ve had a year to feel like shit. I’ve had a year to question my writing, my talent, everything. I thought I’d worry what people would think when I told them I was giving up on journalism. But then I realized something: No one else matters. I can keep applying for jobs and hoping that one day my life will start, or I can start living my life.

I want out of my parents’ house and out of part-time jobs that require me to wear a uniform. I want to unpack the dozens of boxes that are starting to sag under the weight of other boxes. I want to a dog and my own mailing address and bills to pay. I want to become an adult.

I’ll always be a writer. I’ll never lose that. But it would be absurd to think writing is all I’m capable of doing. I’m too much of a realist for that. Journalism and I had a good run, but if this year taught me anything, sometimes things–for reasons unknown–just don’t work out. It sucks and it hurts and at times I’ve cried until snot ran down my face and my pillow was soaked. And then I got up and pulled myself together. That’s all any of us can do.

In my memoir this chapter will be called: Brittany’s dreams fall apart. The next chapter will be called: What happens when Brittany finds a new dream.

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Posted in journalism, post college life

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