I take my chances alone

Shilpa Gupta, 24:00:01 (2012); photo taken at the Singapore Art Museum.

A few days ago I realized that I've stopped imagining my life beyond this point in time. When I think of the future, I think of shallow, meaningless things like film release schedules and upcoming fall television. It's like reality and true milestones and my goals and dreams (publishing! writing! that independent press I'm setting up someday!) have gone into hiding. My guess is that I'm so unsure of the approaching months alone, can't even see a future past December yet, that I can't begin to fathom the coming years at all.

I'm really trying, here.

I started my internship at Scout magazine this week. I sent an email to apply months ago and thought nothing of it. When they didn't respond, I shrugged it off. Oh, well. Until two weeks ago, on the 10th, when they finally wrote me back. They said they loved my portfolio, and that they wanted to see me. Before I knew it, I had an interview set for the next Monday, on the 17th.

Fiel's Firsthand Guide on How Not to Handle Your First Job Interview 

The Hinge Inquirer offices are situated on a pretty quiet practically-suburban intersection in Makati, in a clean, glassy building that almost looks out of place in the neighborhood. I got there with fifteen minutes to spare, wearing the nicest clothes I own in an attempt to look presentable. Which immediately proved pretty futile, because while I sat and waited, various employees walked in and out, and they all looked young, hip, and normcore chic (is that an acceptable way to use these terms?). A few minutes past one PM, one of the magazine's editorial assistants went to meet me and took me to a makeshift room comprised of four work cubicles, where the art director and the other editorial assistant were waiting.

Okay, actually, it went pretty well. I was cool and composed, I maintained eye contact, and they were really nice and welcoming. They said they were impressed with what I've done with Elision, particularly the Julian Casablancas interview, and they looked through the physical copies I'd brought. (The art director even asked me, "How old are you again?" One of his co-workers answered for me: "Twenty. She's twenty. What were you doing when you were twenty?") I got to talk about it a lot, from its conception to scoring JC to getting it printed. Then they asked the usual things, like why I wanted to be an intern there specifically and what I wanted to learn and what I could do.

The only hitch was when I was instructed to pitch possible features for their October issue on the spot, during which I took two minutes stuttering out a jumbled mess of barely connected words, trying to illustrate a half-baked concept. When I flash back to it I still visibly cringe. Not my best moment.

But, as you can see, I survived. We worked out a schedule and other necessary details, and there's not much pressure, because I'm taking the opportunity purely for my own interest and experience, and not for a school requirement or anything. I left Makati feeling validated, excited, and determined.

I Get to Work

I should really learn to commute to Scout and stop taking cabs from SM Makati, because my poor wallet will be drained if I don't. (Next time, self, I promise!) Anyway, like I said, I had my first day over there yesterday. On Sunday I was nervous and filled with dread, wanting to skip out and read all day instead. But it would soon become apparent that all the worrying was for nothing.

This time I wore jeans and one of those nice slim-fitting tops, so I could fit in and look nice while still being myself. (Not all my entries about work—work!!!—will include vague descriptions of outfits, because this is not The Devil Wears Prada, but I felt that the ones I've written here are important because they can be symbols and agents of change and character development in me. Or something.)

I arrived at 11 AM and met with the editors again, one of whom showed me to my desk. I. Have. A cubicle, you guys. I've always been wary when it comes to the idea of being a "yuppie" and being stuck in a white collar environment, so this was definitely strange to me. But I found that I was happy to be in that cubicle, to have this temporary place of my own right in tHE OFFICES OF A PUBLISHING COMPANY WORKING FOR A YOUTH CULTURE MAGAZINE OH MY GOD. I was more than happy, I was elated!

The rest of the day was pretty normal after that, and mostly I just sat around on my phone and iPad making use of my mobile data (because I was too shy to ask for the WiFi password, of course). I tried to get some reading in, and I was advised to think of features and other things to pitch for both the magazine and its website. The managing editor, with whom I have been exchanging emails, introduced herself to me and she was so warm and even whispered, "You write great," as she went back to her desk. Self-esteem boosted!

When they went out to have lunch they asked me if I wanted to join them, but as you probably guessed, I politely declined and said I'd already eaten, which was only a half-truth. I didn't think I could handle my first friendly work lunch right then. But now I kind of wish I had, so I'm making a mental note to accept their invitation next time. I just hope that they extend another one!

Later I got tasked to tape together proofs for the next issue (in its entirety! it was pretty cool to get to see everything before anyone else). I'm left-handed and a true-blue klutz, so obviously not the best at keeping things straight, but I got a system going and got it done efficiently enough, I'd like to think. Then right before I left at 4 PM they asked me to proofread and edit some of the articles, which made me feel pretty damn official. (So was getting to listen in on them discussing ideas for the October issue. It sounded exactly like Steph and me discussing Elision conceptualizations.)

Some fun tidbits about proofreading:

• They've been making the unfortunate mistake of italicizing song titles and putting album titles in quotation marks when it should be the other way around. There was a repeat performance in this issue. Ya girl sort of passive-aggressively wrote, "I read in The Elements of Style that you put song titles in quotation marks and italicize album titles" in the margins. 
• 
  
• One writer wrote "LeAnn Rhymes" in his article; the editor tried to correct it to "LeAnn Rhimes." I knew better, though, and set it straight with "Rimes." Never thought my childhood obsession with her cover of "How Do I Live" and the fact that I own (and treasured) her Best Of album would ever come in handy.  

And, finally, some other notes to self: Bring a nice jacket and don't let your shyness get in the way of your poor bladder. Come on!

So, I never thought I'd ever say this, but I had a great day at work yesterday.

In other exciting news,

I got a really, really nice email from Satchmi today. About my writing. And incredible opportunities. And I can't wait to see what it entails.

I still have trouble seeing into my own future. I still don't feel one hundred percent these days. But the past two weeks have been helping me get some of my idealism back, bit by bit. Somehow I am living my future. It's been raining so hard lately, but I find that I don't have much about which to complain.

Don't worry. I haven't run out of things to say.

love will tear us apart

Yesterday I saw Hannah Fidell's 2015 film 6 Years, which features raw and brilliant (mostly) improvised performances by Taissa Farmiga and Ben Rosenfield, the script having been not much more than a 40-page outline. Executive-produced by Mark and Jay Duplass, it's a coming-of-age drama wherein the disintegration of a young couple's (you guessed it) six-year relationship unfolds, brought about by a cascading sequence of disagreements and diverging life choices as they navigate their final years in college.

Movies that make me wistful are my favorite kind. In the opening montage, and throughout the film when they're not busy biting each other's heads off, viewers are provided glimpses of the dynamic between Mel (Farmiga) and Dan (Rosenfield), and it is all kinds of intimate and ideal, at least on the surface. The small details add up and make you want to root for this twosome to thrive: They were next-door neighbors. They've been together since they were fifteen (my estimate). They lost their virginity to one another. They're comfortable and secure and beautiful and untouchable.   

This was immensely helped by the crazy good chemistry between the two leads. I swear, their sheer togetherness jumped off the screen so naturally it began to make me feel intrusive, like I was watching an actual longtime couple instead of a pair of actors.

As individuals, both Mel and Dan are completely fleshed out and true to life, each with their own personalities, dreams, differences, plans and paths, lives outside of their relationship, and tons of flaws and bad choices, and they both go through character developments separate from and in sync with one another. I suspect this is a result of the improvisation techniques, because their reactions feel more real and their actors are more invested and injected into them this way.  

At its low points, 6 Years is predictable at times and offers no resolution to each conflict presented, ending on a vague interrobang of some sort. But at its best, it is a well-shot and thought-out progression of a doomed romance, taking its time to show you how its foundations crumbled in extremely painful ways, every intense moment leading into another until it's clear as day. And still you can feel the love linger. You find yourself wanting to shake the characters and yell at them, snap them back to attention, because it makes you care. The denouement is abrupt, but with enough thought it's very satisfying.  

Compare Celeste and Jesse Forever. It reminded me somehow of Jeux d'enfants, but that's just me.    

It's not perfect, at particular scenes even hideous, but it's human, which is the most we can ever hope for sometimes.