Happy Birthday Baby

Two years ago yesterday, the Digital Scene was born.  I wasn’t in the picture back then. Two years ago yesterday, I had just come back to Baltimore after a not-so-tragic breakup, but was seeking solace in lots of home-cooked Jewish food anyways (courtesy of D).

One year ago yesterday, Kid invited me to make an appearance on The Scene. Oddly enough, I have yet to post the story that got me involved, but even so, I’ll be forever grateful for the Creative Non-Fiction  Writing assignment that got Kid’s attention and led me to where I am today – sitting on my couch with Desperate Housewives on in the background, writing the “Happy Birthday to The Digital Scene” post.

This birthday is kind of a big deal. Turning one was nice and all, but it just meant that we’d survived. Turning two means that we’ve actually established ourselves. We’re not questioning whether or not we’re going to make it, if we’re going to reach people, if we’re going to turn into what we want to be. We’re sure, now that we’re two. We’re getting places and doing things (big, amazing, awesome things that are soon to come) and making The Digital Scene something to follow.  In one year from yesterday, we’re going to have even more to brag about, and I know that I, for one, am damn excited about that.

So keep reading, keep writing, keep watching. Big, exciting things are coming… as soon as we recover from our serious birthday celebrations.

Happy Birthday to us, The Digital Scene. Here’s wishing for another year of snark, sarcasm, wit, and brilliant writing.

Health care. Insurance. Obama. Three things I am always terrified to talk about. For one thing, I am not well-versed in politics and the great entity that seems to be Obama, nor do I know much of anything about health care. What I do know, however, is that the health care and insurance systems are really, really fucked up.

I won’t be able to eloquently paraphrase the content of this news clip, so your homework is to watch it, read about it, and tell us what, if anything,  is wrong with this picture.

I may not know insurance, but I do know crazy-talk.

UPDATE: Said insurance company has apparently reviewed the aforementioned case and has changed their tune

The “Boyfriend” (I use the term loosely) is in town this week on official film business and I spent this past weekend with him, meeting all sorts of official film people and helping him out with a pitch he made this afternoon (fingers crossed please!). Last night, before he drove me home, we went to dinner with his colleagues, Jim and Dave, to a pub outside of Silver Spring called Victoria’s Gastro Pub.  In a series of unfortunate events, “Boyfriend” left early to run to meet another colleague, leaving Jim and Dave, ages 34 and 51 (respectively), brilliant director and filmmaker (respectively), to dine alone with me – a 21 year old college senior with no other job experience aside from working as a salesperson at Marshall’s department store.

In the interest of making a good impression on these two (as well as trying to stave off the awkwardness that I expected to come at any moment), I started talking about school and my major and my interest in film and communications.

“What is your official major, if you don’t mind me asking?” Dave asked, taking a sip of wine.

“I’m a double major in English and Communications, with a focus in popular culture theory,” I answered, trying to sound older than my juvenile 21 years.

Dave smiled broadly. “That’s what my wife studied in college!” he exclaimed.

I was excited. Was a possible contact going to be made? Would I be inspired by this fellow Communications major? I asked what she did for a living now.

“Oh, she actually abandoned her major after college. She’s an ordained pastor for the Seventh Day Adventist Church,” he smiled, lifting his glass of wine.

I smiled and nodded, trying to be polite, while inside I started panicking. The Seventh Day Adventist Church?! That was going to be my future? Problem.

It got me thinking about our economy (as we are all thinking about) and the job market and graduation and careers and success. From what I hear and read and have a general understanding of, we writers are slowly sinking into the “we’re fucked” mindset. Our English majors don’t guarantee that we’ll end up writing for a living. My Communications major doesn’t guarantee that I’ll be able to do anything (even remotely successful) in the media world.

In the hope that they’ll be flattered by my mention of them, look at NG or Kid himself, or any of the other wonderful writers we’re all friends with. Bartending is their means of income… and while alcohol is an integral part of the writing process, it isn’t necessarily how they expected to make their living. Even those of you out there who aren’t writers, or are finding other lucrative ways to support yourselves, can understand the panic when you watch the news (or hear first hand) that brilliant MIT graduates and Harvard graduates are flipping burgers and cleaning motels to make ends meet in this crap economy we’re still mucking around in.

Here at the Scene, we’re all about pursuing music and film and literature and finding connections through those, through our passions for those. So what can I say about our potential futures as burger flippers or room service attendants or online-ordained pastors? I’ll let the “Boyfriend” take credit for this tried and true catch phrase: ” Do what you gotta do, to get where  and what you want to get.”

Moral of the story? Flip those burgers, scrub those toilets, fill those glass tumblers, pray for those parishioners and hold out hope with me – that, someday, we’ll all be living off of our passions, and that Obama will make that happen a lot sooner.