Monday, January 30, 2006
foul mood
At lot of very little happened over the last few weeks. Things that are happening in 2006 seem more like an inflated sequel of where I was about two years ago: living in the city, heading out to the opera from time to time, and hanging out in the bars and going shopping.
One thing is different: My enthusiasm. With what seemed like a year of clawing my way to getting salary increases, moving up the corporate ladder, and moving back to Manhattan, I have to say that the long, tortured path here – via Georgetown, Chicago, Mercer and MMA – feels, well, bitter.
After all that time and effort put through working with Mercer I left feeling exploited. They promised career advancement, I got none. They promised London, I got Chicago. Then I start working with some major ass holes at MMA. Finally, I get this job – the promotion I had long deserved. But do we really have to beg, lie, and cheat to get what we deserve. Why can’t a company, recognizing they have a good employee, do right by them?
Well, they don’t. They extract every ounce of goodwill, exploit all the naiveté, hoping you’re dumb enough to keep the job and continue working for peanuts. Sure, people tell me that you generally have to change jobs to get your first real promotion (this doesn’t count moving from “analyst” to “senior analyst”). But I guess I didn’t realize the extent to which they were correct.
That’s my ten cents.
Went to see Brokeback mountain. At one point, I actually thought that I didn’t like romance movies because, well, there’s little in them for gay people. But now I know that I just don’t like romance movies. Period. Homo, hetero, bi, whatever, they are not for me. Some gay people I know said I wouldn’t be able to sit through it without crying. But there was no lugubriousness from me, or anyone else in the theater. Sure, all the critics can’t be wrong – it MUST be a great movie, right? I guess we all have our “thing” in life: The romantic movie is not my thing.
Enough of what I don’t like, let’s get to something I do. Friday night, to honor the 250th anniversary of Mozart’s birth, Max and I went to see The Magic Flute at the Metropolitan Opera. I was excited, it was a new Julie Taymore production (The Lion King) and couldn’t wait to hear the Queen of the Night’s big arias.
I have to say I was a little disappointed. The production was a little stupid. I mean, it’s one thing to turn Disney characters into some sort of puppet. But taking Mozart’s and turning them into archetypes was a little disconcerting. The production was like that of a bad fusion restaurant: Mozart, Kabuki theater, and game show (the sets looked like those from the $10,000 Pyramid), all rolled into one. Of course, everyone else loved it. But The Magic Flute is a pinnacle of human achievement, and should be treated with dignity, not as some forgettable Disney flick. (I’m probably missing something profound that everyone else got.)
One thing is different: My enthusiasm. With what seemed like a year of clawing my way to getting salary increases, moving up the corporate ladder, and moving back to Manhattan, I have to say that the long, tortured path here – via Georgetown, Chicago, Mercer and MMA – feels, well, bitter.
After all that time and effort put through working with Mercer I left feeling exploited. They promised career advancement, I got none. They promised London, I got Chicago. Then I start working with some major ass holes at MMA. Finally, I get this job – the promotion I had long deserved. But do we really have to beg, lie, and cheat to get what we deserve. Why can’t a company, recognizing they have a good employee, do right by them?
Well, they don’t. They extract every ounce of goodwill, exploit all the naiveté, hoping you’re dumb enough to keep the job and continue working for peanuts. Sure, people tell me that you generally have to change jobs to get your first real promotion (this doesn’t count moving from “analyst” to “senior analyst”). But I guess I didn’t realize the extent to which they were correct.
That’s my ten cents.
Went to see Brokeback mountain. At one point, I actually thought that I didn’t like romance movies because, well, there’s little in them for gay people. But now I know that I just don’t like romance movies. Period. Homo, hetero, bi, whatever, they are not for me. Some gay people I know said I wouldn’t be able to sit through it without crying. But there was no lugubriousness from me, or anyone else in the theater. Sure, all the critics can’t be wrong – it MUST be a great movie, right? I guess we all have our “thing” in life: The romantic movie is not my thing.
Enough of what I don’t like, let’s get to something I do. Friday night, to honor the 250th anniversary of Mozart’s birth, Max and I went to see The Magic Flute at the Metropolitan Opera. I was excited, it was a new Julie Taymore production (The Lion King) and couldn’t wait to hear the Queen of the Night’s big arias.
I have to say I was a little disappointed. The production was a little stupid. I mean, it’s one thing to turn Disney characters into some sort of puppet. But taking Mozart’s and turning them into archetypes was a little disconcerting. The production was like that of a bad fusion restaurant: Mozart, Kabuki theater, and game show (the sets looked like those from the $10,000 Pyramid), all rolled into one. Of course, everyone else loved it. But The Magic Flute is a pinnacle of human achievement, and should be treated with dignity, not as some forgettable Disney flick. (I’m probably missing something profound that everyone else got.)
# posted by otas : 10:41 AM
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Julie Traymore (sp) has definitely done better. Check out Titus--she took a mediocre Shakespeare play and turned it into one of those films you just have to see to believe. More gore and violence than you'll see in most of the Bard's plays.
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