ROANOKE TIMES
Copyright (c) 1996, Roanoke Times
DATE: Tuesday, August 27, 1996 TAG: 9608270145
SECTION: WELCOME STUDENTS PAGE: 8 EDITION: NEW RIVER VALLEY
DATELINE: SANTA CRUZ, CALIF.
SOURCE: ADRIANNE BEE SPECIAL TO THE ROANOKE TIMES
Most mornings I scour the classified ads in a caffeinated frenzy at the Java Junction coffee house, a pink, flat-roofed building with two palm trees standing guard. People inside are blond and sometimes don wetsuits. They say: "Can I just have some water, dude?" "Right on." "The waves are killer today."
Like an anthropologist in a foreign land, I study these people and their customs with furtive glances over my French roast. Good old normal French roast. The Java Junction offers every type of libation, from carrot juice to something called "Wheatgrass." The latter is pressed grass. Grass like you mow. I refuse to try this beverage.
I stay only long enough to pursue the want ads. I quickly skip over "must be cheerful and positive" or "must be a people person." Unemployment, multiple cups of coffee and an excess of hippies can make anyone a bit edgy.
I scribble down some employer addresses and head home. I walk past the VW buses on my street (construction work orange, lime green, primer gray with a red "Love Bus" spray painted on the side ... ).
My friend Janice appears from behind the "Love Bus." She is carrying a surfboard. Janice manages a sporting goods store and always is learning some new outdoor thing. I would not be surprised to see Janice barreling down the street on a sled pulled by a team of Alaskan huskies.
"Get a job yet?" she asks.
"Nope."
"You're just being picky. Are you still holding out for a writing job?" she asks - and then asks me for the one-trillionth time if I want to do the thermal socks inventory in her store.
Picky? What does Janice know? She drinks grass juice.
Silly me, wanting to use my major, do what I've wanted to do since elementary school when I wrote "When I grow up, I want to write stories and have a robot clean my room and make me ice cream."
Oh, sure I could get "a" job. There are always plenty of openings for living with old people who need help putting their teeth in or going to the bathroom. I could type, file papers and fetch coffee or count socks for Janice.
At least I am not alone in my torment. My brother can't find a job in his field, either. You see, the Bee children were dreamers. I say ``were,'' because we are now hardened and cynical Bees.
My brother. It is a humbling experience to be in the same room with him during an episode of "Jeopardy"
Brother Bee is a pretty brilliant guy. He studied ancient Roman and Byzantine history in college. He has gone on archaeological digs. He can find the tiniest, most obscure countries and quickly identify the capital, population and major exports. He is kind of like Rain Man without the autism. I'm willing to bet if you dumped a box of toothpicks out on the floor, he could tell you exactly how many there are with one quick glance.
Don't believe me? Go ask him yourself. He's a security guard at a building in D.C. He'd love the company. One day you'll see my brother consulted on "National Geographic" television specials. At the moment, however, he checks employed people's ID's and sports an unflattering blue cotton-poly blend uniform.
Still, when you least expect it ... I was chatting with Janice outside my house and feigning interest in camping gear when two editors called and left messages on my machine. One wanted me to be a stringer (free-lancer) for the Santa Cruz paper ("a what? Did he say stripper?" Janice asked from the doorway). Another was about an interview for an internship at a magazine in San Francisco.
So, my friends, I believe there is hope. Do not run and change your major to engineering just yet. Frequently play the theme from "Rocky" or "Chariots of Fire." Dance around your house, punching make-believe opponents and repeat "Eye of the tiger, baby, eye of the tiger." Do not give up.
After checking my messages, I walked to the beach with Janice and watched her and the other surfers. They are patient. They sit on their boards and wait. Tossed into the ocean over and over again, they climb back up and paddle through the waves. Eventually a breaker will carry them into shore.
Adrianne Bee, 22, graduated from Virginia Tech in 1995. She majored in English and worked as an intern and free-lance writer for the Roanoke Times from 1994 to 1995. Since she wrote this story, she has found employment with Edittech, an international news service focusing on the computer industry. She also free-lances for the daily Santa Cruz Sentinel and the weekly Metro Santa Cruz.
LENGTH: Medium: 83 lines ILLUSTRATION: PHOTO: (headshot) Bee.by CNB