Curtains

And now it is time to say farewell to Ye Olde Blog, my most trusted and constant companion on this journey of hardship and adventure.

At the nine month mark, I see only a few possible outcomes of my year in Los Angeles. Either the city system will come through for me with a librarian job (full or part time) before the end of October, when my name drops off their list, or the system I'm currently temping with will offer me a permanent position, either in my neighborhood or on the coast. If I'm offered one of the librarian jobs in the Malibu region, I will move to the coast and enjoy breathing the cleaner air.

Barring those possibilities working out, I will return to Austin, an idea I'm increasingly warming to only because it will enable me to scale back on my expenses. Maybe not to the extent of that kooky, forest-dwelling failed actor in "Grizzly Man," but perhaps to a level where I can feasibly work part time, if I find a roommate and give up my car or share it with someone.

I saw the movie "11th Hour" last night and agreed with the central premise, which is that "you can never have enough of the things you don't really want." Or as the song "Express Yourself" so eloquently puts it, "Some people have everything/ and other people don't/ but everything don't mean a thing if it ain't the thing you want."

Along that vein, I think the central issue of our time is the corporate takeover of the planet and subsequent ownership of our lives. The economic game is rigged such that you have to work full time just to survive (and in a lot of cases a full-time job won't even cut it). In order to compensate for the loss of control over your life and time and a lack of community outside of work, you begin to desire "things," which in turn demand even more of your time and money. You also begin to require an unusually exciting life outside of work to make sitting in a cubicle for 40 plus hours a week worth it.

I think when you are young and have hope and the comfort of being surrounded by a peer group in the same boat, you can sustain the illusion that trading your waking hours for money is worth it and will pay off in the end. When you get older, and friends fall away, and you start to age, and romantic relationships don't live up to the hype, reality sets in, the rose petals fall from the eyes, and the idea of trading your life for empty promises begins to grate. I tried a new city to see if things might be different, but my time in Los Angeles has only reinforced those beliefs. The entertainment industry is, indeed, for the young. If I return to Austin, my focus will be on putting all the good free stuff that is under my control back in my life- sleeping in, reading, hanging out, and afternoon naps! Health insurance be damned.

On that note, I am now taking my bow, leaving my fate a mystery. Please leave comments if you have 'em.

Dirty Money

I thought by leaving Texas I had escaped the oil industry. Au contraire. "Parts per Million" only makes a passing reference to an oil well next to the Beverly Center, so I did some googling and found this: http://explorer.altopix.com/map/4rf5zl/Beverly_Center_Mall.htm

I also came across an article called "Tracking Tar" in Orion Magazine (http://www.orionmagazine.org/index.php/articles/article/93/) that informed me that the lovely Farmer's Market where I buy my organic fruit is also the sight of several wells:

Washburn, who estimated that there were probably more than a hundred oil companies presently pumping in LA, told me of one local operation that consisted of a ninety-year-old woman who owned a couple of wells in her backyard that she had inherited from her husband, and which she still operated single-handedly.

“All the big companies are mostly out[side] of LA now, consolidating their operations,” Washburn told me. “The last significant onshore drilling in the basin around where you live was done in the ‘60s and ‘70s. The Beverly Hills field was being drilled then. The Salt Lake field, like others, was consolidated, most of the derricks taken down. What you do now is slant drilling from an existing well off at an angle to tap into new, usually deeper oil-bearing strata. That Farmers Market site has twenty wells operating there. It’s not got a lot of oil left, maybe twenty or thirty years’ worth, depending on the price.”

I was amazed at this, having walked nonchalantly through the gate at the Farmers Market site a couple of weeks before when driving around to locate wells near Park La Brea. I’d counted what I thought were a maximum of six wells, just humps of yellow pipes and valves set relatively low to the ground, before sticking my head in the manager’s office and starting to ask questions. I had startled the two men inside, who obviously weren’t expecting visitors and who politely but firmly noted I was trespassing and that I should contact the corporate offices if I had any questions. They gave me the phone number that led me to Washburn and his geologist, watched carefully as I left, then closed and locked the gate behind me. Another well-hunting trip the same week had led me to the Beverly Center, the behemoth mall located about a mile west of the La Brea Tar Pits. At the parking entrance facing Beverly Hills sat an active drilling rig, the only oil well I know of at a shopping mall.

And this:

In Los Angeles, petroleum is a widespread fact of nature underfoot, one of the primary reasons for the city’s existence, and the fuel that both allowed and necessitated the creation of a grid large enough to cover the basin, therefore determining the warp and weft of its urban fabric. Ironically, during the latter half of the last century as we assiduously cultivated environmental awareness, we mostly lost sight of oil in LA. The energy companies quite understandably did everything they could to camouflage their activities, reacting to our growing disdain for visible signs of industrial activity. Derricks were dismantled or covered up to resemble buildings—like the Breitburn rig on Pico and Genesse, which is camouflaged as an office building—and landscaping was installed around pumps to screen them from view.

And more relating to my neighborhood:

Petroleum, its byproducts, and associated elements are virtually omnipresent across the Los Angeles Basin, which even a glance at the map hanging in Hal Washburn’s office makes obvious. Natural gas, composed mostly of methane and ethane, is extremely flammable when not dispersed. At several points along my street in Park La Brea, white plastic pipes rise from the ground, climb up the two-story townhouses, and vent “wild” methane away from kitchen windows—ironic considering how much we pay for the “tame,” which is to say metered, gas we use in our stoves.

Methane is not something you want to spend much time breathing. Although it’s not rated by the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) as a particularly hazardous toxin—apart from its extreme flammability—when combined with steam it yields carbon monoxide that in sufficient concentrations can suffocate you. Its toxicity is benign, however, when compared to hydrogen sulfide, which often accompanies natural gas and occurs naturally around oil fields. Also a product of organic decomposition, it gives off the classic “rotten egg” odor we associate with swamps, marshes, and the northwest corner of Hancock Park. If the stoplight at the intersection of Fairfax Avenue and Sixth Street is red, the odor accumulates quickly enough in the car to make you roll up the windows and switch the fan to recirculation mode.

Naming Names

In the interest of helping those seeking Fool's Gold behind me, I will now give a full accounting, in terms of company and agency names, of my job search in L.A.

Craigslist and other job boards: I must have applied to 70 plus job ads online. Never received so much as a single response (okay, one, but it was from an employment agency). Can't recommend this route, although my roommate occasionally receives responses for commission-based sales jobs.

Connections: I've passed along my resume to innumerable people. Have lost count. Netted one job offer that way, at Virgin. Resume was submitted by a friend for a job at Showtime, but I didn't get an interview.

Direct applications: Applied to the job listings on the Fox sight. No response. No luck at CBS either. Applied to the agent training program at William Morris. No response. So far have been rejected for openings at Los Angeles Public Library, but I don't know what the positions were (was accepted as a sub but now have to put that on hold).

Employment agencies: Despite the stress of working with employment agencies, I would not have worked a single day in L.A. without them, so my impression is that they are the only way to get your foot in the door. The downside is that your take home pay is minimal because they, of course, take a cut. My average range was $11-$15 an hour, with two outliers of $17 and $25. I signed up with the following agencies, and every one of them presented me with at least *one* decent job possibility (permanent or temporary):

General-- Star Personnel, Office Team, Jason Best
Entertainment-- Comar, Co-op (aka CTS), Friedman
Library-related: AIM, Library Associates

Those agencies brought me the following opportunities:

Temp jobs-- eight jobs. Still not comfortable naming where, but one was at UCLA, two were in advertising, one was for a trade show company, one at a clothing company, one at a tony private school, one at an investment company, and one at a real estate development company.

Also rans-- Was submitted for a job at CAA. Didn't get the interview. Interviewed at Crystal Cruises. Didn't get the job. Didn't get an interview to be a personal assistant to a "well-known songwriter."

Had to turn down the following temp jobs due to scheduling conflicts: Activision, Variety, Warner Records. Ironically, the most appealing ones.

Turned down: A position at the Director's Guild.

Agencies that did not respond to my application: Barrington (general), Elizabeth Rose (nannies/ personal assistants).

Agency that rejected my application: Ultimate Staffing (Fox).

Agency that responded but did not get me any work: The Help Company, a personal assistant placement agency in Santa Monica. Not so helpful after all.

An Existential Weekend

Got through the first couple of days at the library temp job, despite suffering insomnia again. It's your standard library gig, with the usual cast of characters amongst the staff (though thankfully everyone seems to get along well) and the patrons. The system is behind on a number of improvements, even quite behind the system I left in Austin, which had really suffered through some lean times.

I do feel like I've done this job before and that I didn't need to move across the country to do it again, but at least I'm getting my finances and professional life back on track, which is something, I suppose. There are also a couple of jobs within the system that I'd be interested in doing permanently that are in intriguing areas of town. Not sure what my chances are, but in the event that no permanent jobs have come through by December and nothing else is keeping me here, I will start making plans to move back to Austin. I just don't have the fight left in me, although it is my roommate's belief that I "haven't tried hard enough."

I'm also debating closing out the blog. It was started in a spirit of movement and change, and now that I'm back in maintenance mode, it may not have much of a point.

I'd like to catch 11th Hour this weekend, you know, just to cheer myself up. I also came across these appealing weekend activities in the August 17th LA Weekly:

Eastern Philosophy Book Group/ Santa Monica Public Library
You're tired, you work too much, you don't know where your life is going or why you're here. Try a little Eastern philosophy.

And--

From the Just-Trust-Us-and-Go Department: When lady comics Karen Kilgariff and Laura Milligan do anything together, you know it’s going to be clever and funny as all get-out (whatever the hell that means). These two always go the extra creative mile, and for The L.A. River Anthology, the pair is joined by Ed Crasnick, Jen Kirkman, Frank Conniff, Eddie Pepitone and others for a spoof of The Spoon River Anthology with a show-biz bent themed “Our Dreams Are Just Dead on the Inside.” You’re practically guaranteed up to eight laughs a minute, followed by a desire to kill yourself.

The Real O.C., Part II

I start work tomorrow and spent a good four hours (and about $18) today printing, photocopying, filling out, and faxing paperwork into the agency that got me the job. At least I'll have a break from all that for a few months.

I also had to fill out a state tax form for California. Ouch again.

I read the Los Angeles Times over lunch and came across an interesting article about pension problems and benefit cutbacks in O.C. entitled "O.C. supervisors raise current retirees' healthcare costs" by Christian Berthelsen. Some highlights:

Retirees decried the move as unfair, saying they spent decades as county workers with the promise of affordable medical coverage in retirement. It was the second time this month that supervisors agreed to reduce benefits of retired employees; two weeks ago, they voted to move forward with plans to roll back pensions for retired sheriff's deputies.

Overall, costs for active employees -- who are generally in better health and therefore better risks -- are expected to dip 18%, but rates for retirees are expected to increase 34%. Their rates will increase much more if they are members of health maintenance organizations such as Kaiser and Cigna. Of the county's 6,000 former employees, about 2,000 enrolled in those plans will see rate increases of between 72% and 95%, according to a county staff report.

For some, that could mean additional costs of as much as $7,000 a year -- with most of the county's retirees living on annual pensions of less than $25,000. One retiree, Norma Roberts of Costa Mesa, said her monthly out-of-pocket expense would increase from $286 to $783 under the new rates.

In Good Company

Came across an interesting article from London's the Daily Mail (www.dailymail.co.uk/pages/live/articles/news/news.html?
in_article_id=447656&in_page_id=1770) with the following statistics:

The figures, from the Office of National
Statistics,showed that fewer than two-thirds
of women who reached 35 in 2005 had married
– 665 from every 1,000.

Among those born five years earlier, nearly
three-quarters,745 from every 1,000,
had been married by 35.

About nine out of ten women who were 35
in 1990 had been married at least once.

Regarding the speed of the change: 

Robert Whelan of the Civitas civic values
think-tank said: "This is an incredible collapse,
not just because of the extent but because of
the speed."

"If it goes on we will soon see a majority
of women unmarried in their mid-thirties."

 

Only the Best

My roommate is considering taking a job selling high-priced bottled water. That's right. Luxury water.

Next week my mother is visiting; this will be her first trip to Los Angeles. She's calling every day with big plans. We will be doing lunch at the Ivy.

Frankly, I thought both La Scala and Nobu were overrated. I do, however, love love love the Brazilian restaurant I ate lunch at today-- Pampas Grill in the Farmer's Market.