Computer glitch

I wrote an entry earlier. The entry was long but eloquent and touched upon several topics, the main focus being a famous dead person in the digital age.

My computer glitched, like it does often, and deleted half the post.

I am livid, and my post is a casualty of the information super highway.

fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccckkkkkkkk

Come on, Vogue.

“At the end of the day, it's just food isn't it? Just food.” – Marco Pierre

I applied to be the assistant of the food critic for Vogue magazine. This is the job listing:

Description

I'm Jeffrey Steingarten, Vogue magazine's food critic. The job is being my part-time (about half) assistant. You may already know me as the ever-so-demanding author of the best-selling The Man Who Ate Everything and It Must've Been Something I Ate. Possibly as co-anchor on NY Eats on television, or as a frequent (grouchy) judge on the Food Network's program, Iron Chef. I have also won twenty James Beard and IACP awards and nominations, the Julia Child Book Award, and two World Gourmand Book Awards. Do you love food to the point of obsession? Are you are a dogged researcher-mining libraries and the Internet for facts that have slipped the attention of others? Do you cook, shop, and repair Xerox machines? Do you enjoy keeping the office, kitchen and your boss organized? Do you write clearly, and think smart even while running errands? Do you look forward to the occasional dinner at a fabulous restaurant? Are you near the start of your professional career, and willing to give a one-year commitment? The job is paid by the hour as a Vogue freelancer, receiving, as I once did, no benefits whatsoever, but expenses and free food. If this is you, fellow omnivore, please apply. In the cover letter, please tell me about your skills, if any, in each of the following areas: 1) cooking 2) academics in general 3) knowledge of food history and food science 4) practical knowledge of food products, produce, and agriculture 5) proficiency in at least one gastronomic foreign language (i.e. not Serbian or Estonian) 6) any other pursuit in which you are especially accomplished. And please don't hesitate to demonstrate your profound understanding of my published works, or admit that you occasionally chuckle when you read them.

This is the email I wrote in response:

My name is Julie Lozano, I am the future assistant to the food critic at Vogue magazine and native Houstonian.. I appeared on television as a child in a commercial produced by the tourism committee in Houston. I worked for the Library a few years ago, and I am the proud owner of five surly cats whom I love. I was married for some time, and in that time I:

-Graduated from College (B.A. English Lit)
-Held multiple jobs
-Cared for a full grown Man-child
-Made dinner every night of the week

 One might ponder how it is possible to accomplish so much with so little time, so I will give you the answer: time manipulation. Impressed? I thought you might be.  When it comes to the kitchen, I'm a no hold barred kind of lady and I go full blown Iron Chef. I approach food with no fear, no expectations, and no presumptions- it's all about quality for me. I have had the privilege of living in a city with a burgeoning cuisine scene and a roster full of chefs with high accolades and impressive resumes. Houston offered me her bounty, and I graciously accepted. I submerged myself in the service industry early on, and with that initial submergence I have learned a great deal. Attending seminars, conventions, classes, and other various activities has provided the fuel for me to not only enjoy the food I consume on a different level, it's helped me appreciate the science that goes into transforming a few organically grown apples to a five star dessert worthy of the most scrutinized pallet. A meal is so much more than just that, its a cacophony of subjects, history, science, art, that is constructed into a symphony of flavor, balance, and culinary ingenuity. I'm not just another applicant, I am a real person with honest opinions, little fear, and no reservations. You need your Xerox machine repaired? I'll do it. Want your dry cleaning picked up? Consider it done. Have an itch you just can't scratch? I've got your back and really long fingernails. Someone really piss you off? I will punch them square in the face, just for you. In all seriousness, I love food, I love writing, and I love New York City. I've got mad skills that are rivaled by only the best emcee's and nothing but unadulterated time and dedication for an opportunity like this. You can help me change my life and kick start my career, at least let me buy you coffee, schedule your meetings, do your laundry, cook you dinner, and give you a well deserved high five. I speak, read, and write in Spanish, and I can tell you all the snarky things agitated waitstaff say when they flip script and cut up in Spanish. Did I mention I play Roller Derby? Oh no? Silly me. Roller Derby, a sport I dived into head first and came out on top. If you've never seen a bout, do yourself a favor and check it out, its the most amazing thing I've ever done and given the chance, I will talk about it until I run out of breath or you run out of the ability to care, whichever comes first. If this email should fail to pique your interest, at least I tried, and I'll always fondly recall the time I applied for a job as an assistant to the food critic at Vogue magazine. “At the end of the day, it's just food isn't it? Just food.” – Marco Pierre


Stay hungry,

Julie Lozano

I don't care if I get rejected, I just want a response. Come on, Vogue, tell me you love me. 

Craigslist for Texans

There are a few types of people who post on Craigslist:

-People who want to sell things (because they're broke)
-People who want to buy cheap things (because they're broke)
-Creepers (creepy people, that crazy guy with the thousand yard stare who sits in front of your favorite coffee shop all day, close talkers, mouth breathers, serial killers)
-Desperate folk

quit lying to yourself, you fall under one of these categories.

I have used Craigslist once, attempting to sell my no longer functioning Motorcycle; I received a number of responses (albeit a bit later than I had desired) but the most unique one came from a man who expressed interest, but could not afford the initial asking price. I am not an unreasonable person, and when you are in desperate need of cash negotiating is acceptable. With all this, I entertained many offers from various potential buyers, but the man in question was unique in his methods of haggling. He contacted me via email and asked me if I still had the bike, I informed him that I did not, but sometimes you don't take "no" for an answer- even if "no" is the only possible answer. This is Texas, dammit. I presumed that my lack of bike would have squashed any further contact from the gentleman, but low and behold I had once again taken for granted common sense, and I thank the Lord that I had the good fortune of experiencing what transpired next.

This motherfucker asked me to trade my nonexistent bike for:

- A Shotgun
- Ikea end tables
- Power Drill with drill bits
- Several extension cords
- 200 dollars cash

A shotgun. I have never been offered a shotgun in lieu of payment before.

I love Texas, and so should you. 

1:22 am

I skated to a bar today, part of my "endurance" training,

I love the bartender.

I drank too much.

I feel fat.

I might be drunk.

I love you.

good night.

How to write an Email

I've been watching Freaks and Geeks for the last 4 hours; I can't understand why there is only one season.

High school, you cruel bastard.

I announced earlier this year to my closest friends that I'd be moving to New York City with the hopes of pursing Grad school and re-establishing myself in a city I've always loved. I was hesitant to make any permanent moves because my break up left me financially crippled and it's taken me a great deal of time to find a shred of stability.

End preface.

I wrote an email last night to the Curbed group (parent company of Eater.com) applying for a job as an editor in their New York offices. I don't know if they'll even give it a thought, but I'm going to share the email with you, because its bare bones and raw, just like this blog.

"I am about to take a chance; I will look stupid and I might just fail, but I will have not regretted a single thing."- Me to my mom 10 minutes before I wrote this email.

I love writing, more than anything else in the world, and it's a big world out there. Opening with a quote might be cliche, but I am not against cliches if they relay the point. My name is Julie, and I am from the hottest place in the universe: Houston, Texas. I've lived in this city my entire life, I have loved it just as long, and I've wanted nothing more than to show it off to the pedestrian populace who wear blinders and call the city a "time-suck". I write a cathartic blog about my personal life, I write an entertainment blog about the music/art scene in Houston, and I write love letters to inanimate objects that bring me joy (think pineapple or a stuffed teddy bear). Bottom line is, I write about everything to everyone, and while not all of it get's to see the light of day, or the internet, or your kindle- you better believe that it's well documented in a moleskin sitting in my tattered canvas bag. When I'm not writing, I'm playing roller derby, enjoying copious amounts of whiskey, lamenting my love life, and attempting mastery of the oxford comma.  

Why do I want a job, more specifically, this job in question. To be gainfully employed is just part of why I would love to be an editor. I once wrote a 20 page paper on water in college; I received an A. For most people, an A is more than satisfactory- I am not most people, and an A might as well have been an F. I didn't care that I passed, I wanted to know that my professor took the time to read it, my thoughts, my research, my clever quips, my brilliant segues, the dripping wet passion- no pun intended. I suppose that's just it; I care so much about my writing, and I care about the reader, not the audience, but the reader- the singled out person reading my obscure blog post about some stupid exboyfriend, or reading my poignant paper about the world water crisis. I want to be proud of the text that lay before your eyes, the information given, the sentiments felt- I want you to care just as much as I do. Who in their right mind wouldn't jump at the chance to do what they love for a living? In the end, gainfully employed or just another hack, I'll keep writing and someone somewhere will keep reading, and I'll recall the time I applied for editor with the Curbed Network fondly.

 This is a game of Chess and I just made my opening move. I need you, the readers, more than ever- give me the ground on which to sow my seeds. Let me bend your ear for a minute, because when you need it, I've got nothing but time and no better place to be than here with you.

Thing is, writing isn't about content, well...it is, but its also much more than just that. Writing has the ability to be compassionate, informative, emotive, concise, dragged out, offensive, defensive, motivational, and a million other adjectives, and that's what makes it so great. 

Maybe I'll get a call and move to New York and get to do what I love doing (and someone will pay me for it). Maybe I won't; it will work itself out and I'm not going to worry about it.

11:34 pm - I've got a party to go to and I'm having white people problems trying to find something to wear. Who loves you, baby?

HOLY SHIT

WHAT DID I JUST DO?!

Commence complete freak out at 2 a.m.

You're most welcome, neighbors.

Baby steps are for children; I am an adult.

I am a single woman living in a big city, struggling to pay every single bill, trying to make ends meet, and trying to make a name

I just applied for a job at Eater as an editor in their NYC office. I haven't felt this nervous since I skated in my first bout. Graduating from college is like fucking sleeping compared to this. I can't even maintain composure right now. Fuck composure, I can barely even formulate a comprehensive sentence. It's not the most eloquently written submission, but its true to me as a writer, stylistically speaking for that matter. Holy shit, future.

It is a new year (I'm jewish) and it has to be better than last, because last year (as indicated in the inaugural post and so forth) I went trough some shit. 

This is the year that I dedicate myself to the thing I love most: writing. I am committed; more so than that, I am tired of working for people who can't navigate their way out of a paper bag. I am not some fucking hack writer; I've got an invaluable skill set, a keen eye, an unquenchable thirst, and an insatiable hunger for writing, and someone is going to finally notice. All in all, even if you work for someone you don't like, you might as well hate your boss and love your job.

EXCELSIOR!