So I'm walking down the hall in the EE building on UC Campus... and I hear a guy saying to a girl: "I think my uncoolness is actually cool in a way. I mean, people tell me 'man you are so uncool' and I'm cool with that..." And the girl says: "Yeah, I can see that..."
Um. So... Can she see that he's uncool, or can she see that his uncoolness is cool? Inquiring minds want to know...
Wednesday, August 31, 2005
Common Sense Is Not A Prerequisite
Okay, so I didn't get drunk last night (though I did have a drink in the hopes that it would numb my throat a bit), and I didn't do laundry either. I was feeling way too miserable to do much of anything when I got home.
This morning started off wonderfully too, with me nearly getting trapped in an elevator with some brain dead students... Got on the elevator, hit the button for my floor, watched the door close... But instead of the elevator going up, all the buttons un-lit themselves, and the door opened half way and STUCK that way. Needless to say, I got the hell out. Meanwhile, the brain dead students are STILL standing in the elevator, looking dazed and confused, and one asks me "do you know what's going on?" Talk about a stupid question. I mean, how hard is it to figure out that this is NOT normal elevator behavior? (Well... actually... it is normal around here, but only because our elevators are always breaking down.) So I'm just like "um, you want to get out of that elevator... NOW." But the brain dead students just stood there, looking at eachother like "why? huh? whats all this then?" And then the door shut all the way.
I assume they got out okay, because when I finally got upstairs to report the problem, no one was stuck in the damned thing. But wow. These kids got into UC Berkeley??? Apparently the admissions board doesn't take common sense (or the lack thereof) into account when sending out acceptance letters... sheesh.
But yeah, so thats how my morning started. We'll see how the rest of the day goes... lets just say I don't have high hopes about it, given the start I got.
This morning started off wonderfully too, with me nearly getting trapped in an elevator with some brain dead students... Got on the elevator, hit the button for my floor, watched the door close... But instead of the elevator going up, all the buttons un-lit themselves, and the door opened half way and STUCK that way. Needless to say, I got the hell out. Meanwhile, the brain dead students are STILL standing in the elevator, looking dazed and confused, and one asks me "do you know what's going on?" Talk about a stupid question. I mean, how hard is it to figure out that this is NOT normal elevator behavior? (Well... actually... it is normal around here, but only because our elevators are always breaking down.) So I'm just like "um, you want to get out of that elevator... NOW." But the brain dead students just stood there, looking at eachother like "why? huh? whats all this then?" And then the door shut all the way.
I assume they got out okay, because when I finally got upstairs to report the problem, no one was stuck in the damned thing. But wow. These kids got into UC Berkeley??? Apparently the admissions board doesn't take common sense (or the lack thereof) into account when sending out acceptance letters... sheesh.
But yeah, so thats how my morning started. We'll see how the rest of the day goes... lets just say I don't have high hopes about it, given the start I got.
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
Fried
My brain is now officially deep fried, and has been served up with a side of ranch dressing for dipping in...
I have a headache thats just slightly larger than the whole of Canada, and the lovely seasonal allergies that have been plaguing me for the past few days have gifted me with a sore throat, sniffles, and a fairly high amount of sneezing *achoo!*. Not to mention that the air conditioning in my office is adding to my sinus sufferings by drying out the already dusty air...
Thank god work is almost over. Oh yeah. Work. Thats adding to my headache too. I got a call from a vendor saying that we had applied a credit memo twice, and thus underpaid them. Now, had this been one of my accounts, this never would have happened, but it wasn't, so it did, and now I get to figure out how to clean up the mess. Admittedly, staff here weren't entirely to blame... The vendor made some mistakes too (like crediting the wrong purchase order... *ahem*). Unfortunately, that only makes my job more difficult. Bleh, bleh, and triple bleh on compound errors.
I think... when I get home... I am going to get drunk (well maybe not DRUNK... but at least a little tipsy) and do laundry. Wow. Exciting night for me huh? Aren't y'all just soooo jealous *rolls eyes*
I have a headache thats just slightly larger than the whole of Canada, and the lovely seasonal allergies that have been plaguing me for the past few days have gifted me with a sore throat, sniffles, and a fairly high amount of sneezing *achoo!*. Not to mention that the air conditioning in my office is adding to my sinus sufferings by drying out the already dusty air...
Thank god work is almost over. Oh yeah. Work. Thats adding to my headache too. I got a call from a vendor saying that we had applied a credit memo twice, and thus underpaid them. Now, had this been one of my accounts, this never would have happened, but it wasn't, so it did, and now I get to figure out how to clean up the mess. Admittedly, staff here weren't entirely to blame... The vendor made some mistakes too (like crediting the wrong purchase order... *ahem*). Unfortunately, that only makes my job more difficult. Bleh, bleh, and triple bleh on compound errors.
I think... when I get home... I am going to get drunk (well maybe not DRUNK... but at least a little tipsy) and do laundry. Wow. Exciting night for me huh? Aren't y'all just soooo jealous *rolls eyes*
The Hurricane Inside My Head
For once, I don't have anything in particular that I feel the need to write about -- and yet, I feel the need to write just as strongly, if not more so.
You know, people always ask me why I write; why I blog... Its simple really: I have to. I don't write because I want to, or because I think it's fun. I have to write. Its a need, a compulsion. Not an addiction mind you, not unless you consider breathing an addiction.
See, I have an overactive mind. I've been accused of having ADD, my mind is so all over the place. Maybe I do. Probably I do. But because there's all that stuff inside my head, all swirling around at a million miles an hour like some sort of thought tornado, my mind can be a very crowded, noisy place. If I don't do something to focus it, or quiet it down, I tend to go a little off the deep end. Writing calms everything down, brings everything into focus, and gives me a little bit of peace and quiet.
Its kind of funny... I come across as such an articulate person most of the time, but then, most of the time I'm writing -- or typing, as the case may be. When I talk, my mind is moving too quickly for my mouth to keep up, and I end up mispronouncing words, using the wrong word, or omitting words all together... Which can sometimes make it hard to understand what I'm trying to say. Not to mention the slight speech impediment I have with S's... They usually come out sounding like "Th" or sometimes "Z". Go figure. And the more nervous I am, the worse it gets. So really, having a discussion -- vocally -- about all the junk in my head gets very difficult sometimes, and doesn't ever bring me the solace that writing does.
So when my mind is over burdened some how, even if I'm not aware of what its gone into overdrive about (which is quite often the case), I write. I pour it all out onto paper so that its no longer festering inside my head. If I don't... If I can't... And there was recently a 5 month period in which I couldn't... I get out of control. Scary manic. Because the momentum of my mind builds and builds until it runs over into my body... And then you'll find me doing whatever I can to burn off that energy -- like running around the block at 3am, or searching for something to sedate myself with (generally liberal doses of alcohol), or just giving into the hurricane that rages inside my mind, and doing stupid shit like dying my hair fluorescent pink, or meeting up with whatever could-be-psycho-killer from a chat room... Yeah... I know...
But that's why I write (and why I have to be medicated on a continual basis) -- Because I have to. I can't function unless I do. I don't stay sane unless I do.
It has nothing to do with "want" or "fun" or "satisfaction" like it does for so many of these amateur creative writers in the forums I'm part of... Which is partly why that's all they'll ever be -- amateurs. They don't understand what writing truly is. They don't feel their own words. They don't understand the NEED to express, to create... They don't realize that writing is an art that requires drive and an almost obsessive mentality that only very few are born with, and that most of those few implode before ever tapping into their potential. They don't understand that to be exceptional, you HAVE to stand on the brink of insanity, and stare into that abyss.
They think they can write just because they want to... And they're wrong. Miserably and hopelessly wrong. They lack the fire... The passion... The compulsion... The forces of nature raging inside them... That all great artists have.
The sad thing is... I have it... And I'm wasting it.
You know, people always ask me why I write; why I blog... Its simple really: I have to. I don't write because I want to, or because I think it's fun. I have to write. Its a need, a compulsion. Not an addiction mind you, not unless you consider breathing an addiction.
See, I have an overactive mind. I've been accused of having ADD, my mind is so all over the place. Maybe I do. Probably I do. But because there's all that stuff inside my head, all swirling around at a million miles an hour like some sort of thought tornado, my mind can be a very crowded, noisy place. If I don't do something to focus it, or quiet it down, I tend to go a little off the deep end. Writing calms everything down, brings everything into focus, and gives me a little bit of peace and quiet.
Its kind of funny... I come across as such an articulate person most of the time, but then, most of the time I'm writing -- or typing, as the case may be. When I talk, my mind is moving too quickly for my mouth to keep up, and I end up mispronouncing words, using the wrong word, or omitting words all together... Which can sometimes make it hard to understand what I'm trying to say. Not to mention the slight speech impediment I have with S's... They usually come out sounding like "Th" or sometimes "Z". Go figure. And the more nervous I am, the worse it gets. So really, having a discussion -- vocally -- about all the junk in my head gets very difficult sometimes, and doesn't ever bring me the solace that writing does.
So when my mind is over burdened some how, even if I'm not aware of what its gone into overdrive about (which is quite often the case), I write. I pour it all out onto paper so that its no longer festering inside my head. If I don't... If I can't... And there was recently a 5 month period in which I couldn't... I get out of control. Scary manic. Because the momentum of my mind builds and builds until it runs over into my body... And then you'll find me doing whatever I can to burn off that energy -- like running around the block at 3am, or searching for something to sedate myself with (generally liberal doses of alcohol), or just giving into the hurricane that rages inside my mind, and doing stupid shit like dying my hair fluorescent pink, or meeting up with whatever could-be-psycho-killer from a chat room... Yeah... I know...
But that's why I write (and why I have to be medicated on a continual basis) -- Because I have to. I can't function unless I do. I don't stay sane unless I do.
It has nothing to do with "want" or "fun" or "satisfaction" like it does for so many of these amateur creative writers in the forums I'm part of... Which is partly why that's all they'll ever be -- amateurs. They don't understand what writing truly is. They don't feel their own words. They don't understand the NEED to express, to create... They don't realize that writing is an art that requires drive and an almost obsessive mentality that only very few are born with, and that most of those few implode before ever tapping into their potential. They don't understand that to be exceptional, you HAVE to stand on the brink of insanity, and stare into that abyss.
They think they can write just because they want to... And they're wrong. Miserably and hopelessly wrong. They lack the fire... The passion... The compulsion... The forces of nature raging inside them... That all great artists have.
The sad thing is... I have it... And I'm wasting it.
Monday, August 29, 2005
Word Verification
Alright, I didn't want to have to do this, but due to a FLOOD of automated comment spam, I'm being forced.
I've turned on the word verification option on comments. This adds another step for you all (and me too, when I'm commenting on my own blog), which I'm sorry about, but I just can't take the spam anymore.
For those of you with blogs who want to know how to do this too -- go to your setting tab, under the comments section, and click the radio button next to "word verification" to "yes." It should keep the spam comments to a minimum.
Sorry again about the inconvenience...
I've turned on the word verification option on comments. This adds another step for you all (and me too, when I'm commenting on my own blog), which I'm sorry about, but I just can't take the spam anymore.
For those of you with blogs who want to know how to do this too -- go to your setting tab, under the comments section, and click the radio button next to "word verification" to "yes." It should keep the spam comments to a minimum.
Sorry again about the inconvenience...
Outcast Genius
Outcast Genius
69 % Nerd, 56% Geek, 60% Dork
For The Record:
A Nerd is someone who is passionate about learning/being smart/academia.
A Geek is someone who is passionate about some particular area or subject, often an obscure or difficult one.
A Dork is someone who has difficulty with common social expectations/interactions.
You scored better than half in all three, earning you the title of: Outcast Genius.
Outcast geniuses usually are bright enough to understand what society wants of them, and they just don't care! They are highly intelligent and passionate about the things they know are *truly* important in the world. Typically, this does not include sports, cars or make-up, but it can on occassion (and if it does then they know more than all of their friends combined in that subject).
Outcast geniuses can be very lonely, due to their being outcast from most normal groups and too smart for the room among many other types of dorks and geeks, but they can also be the types to eventually rule the world, ala Bill Gates, the prototypical Outcast Genius.
Congratulations!
Thanks Again! -- THE NERD? GEEK? OR DORK? TEST
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Oy. The sad thing is, I knew this already... *sigh*
But at least, my nerd/geek/dork -ish nature is a well loved one :)
69 % Nerd, 56% Geek, 60% Dork
For The Record:
A Nerd is someone who is passionate about learning/being smart/academia.
A Geek is someone who is passionate about some particular area or subject, often an obscure or difficult one.
A Dork is someone who has difficulty with common social expectations/interactions.
You scored better than half in all three, earning you the title of: Outcast Genius.
Outcast geniuses usually are bright enough to understand what society wants of them, and they just don't care! They are highly intelligent and passionate about the things they know are *truly* important in the world. Typically, this does not include sports, cars or make-up, but it can on occassion (and if it does then they know more than all of their friends combined in that subject).
Outcast geniuses can be very lonely, due to their being outcast from most normal groups and too smart for the room among many other types of dorks and geeks, but they can also be the types to eventually rule the world, ala Bill Gates, the prototypical Outcast Genius.
Congratulations!
Thanks Again! -- THE NERD? GEEK? OR DORK? TEST
----------------------------------------------------------
Oy. The sad thing is, I knew this already... *sigh*
But at least, my nerd/geek/dork -ish nature is a well loved one :)
The Search For Balance
So last night, I was stupid, and watched a freaky movie -- alone, in the dark. Most people I know had said that the movie sucked, so I didn't think it would get to me... oops. White Noise, a flick aobut EVP, would not, I admit, have been scary except for the fact that I do happen to believe in EVP. If I didn't believe in it, there is no way that I would have been the least bit affected by the film.
EVP, or Electronic Voice Phenomena, is basically the practice of recording the voices of the dead. If you want more info about it, go to The American Association of Electronic Voice Phenomena's website . The concept is a little complicated for me to fully explain here. Suffice it to say that EVP is considered by many to be proof that ghosts exist, and is used as a way to communicate with them. Yeah, I know, it sounds like a bunch of BS, but really... its not. At least, I don't think so.
Yeah, logical me, believes in ghosts -- after a fashion anyway.
Thing is, I have my own personal belief system, and ghosts (spirits, whatever) happen to fit into it quite well. See, I don't believe in a personified god. God, to me, is just a word that people have used to describe a concept that is beyond human understanding. God is not a he, or a she, but a state of being, a level of understanding... but most of all, to me, god is balance. You know the ying yang symbol yes? Thats how I envision god. The ultimate perfection of balance between good and evil, between light and dark, between negative and positive, between male and female...
If you look at the world, it is constantly struggling for balance. Population struggles to maintain a balance with resources. Day and night struggle against each other to maintain balance. And if you look closer, you can see the struggle for balance in each and every event on the face of the planet. For every action that has a good outcome, that same action has a bad outcome as well. Take, for example, the simple act of picking up litter, and putting it in the trash. This is a good thing, yes, because it keeps the streets clean... but... its also a bad thing, because now that piece of trash is going to end up in a landfill, adding to the unending volume of waste we have to figure out something to do with. If that piece of trash had been left in the street, perhaps nature would have taken care of it... but you really can't say for sure can you.
Another example -- tsunamis. Yeah, these are a horrible disaster for humans. Hundreds of thousands die, property is lost, damaged, or destroyed... but... (and I hate to take such a cold calculating stance here) it decreases the ever growing overcrowded population, and it recycles land and resources, bringing about new opportunities for life to flourish. Volcanic erruptions are the same way. Yes, people die, yes property is destroyed. But the land that is left behind is more fertile, fresh, new, ready to support life...
You see, everything has two sides, and those two sides are in constant struggle to maintain balance.
How does all that have anything to do with ghosts? Alright... So I don't believe in heaven or hell, per se'. I do believe theres an afterlife of some sort, but I'm smart enough to admit that I have no clue what it is. My theory is that, people, just like nature, are in constant struggle to maintain a personal balance. Those people who fail, who's "souls" (no other word for it, sorry) fall out of balance, they stay here, searching for that balance even after death... Maybe finding that balance (and balance is a poor word really, but its the only one I can really identify with... or maybe wholeness... but balance is better somehow) is as simple as making sure that a loved one knows they are loved... Maybe its more complicated, maybe the soul is so unbalanced that it refuses to accept that its not alive anymore, that it feels it needs to keep hold of its territory (a house, a car, an area of land)... or maybe its thrown out of balance by something that the living do... like say, building tract homes on native american burial grounds. I don't know... obviously... because I've never been dead, nor have I been a ghost... so... this is all just speculation. But its what seems the most plausable to me. I mean, I've known too many people who've had run ins with "ghosts" to just say "nah, they don't exist". So this is my explanation... and why I do believe in EVP.
And yes... as always... I am still searching for my own balance. If I don't find it, I'll leave all y'all a voicemail from the grave saying so *wink wink*
EVP, or Electronic Voice Phenomena, is basically the practice of recording the voices of the dead. If you want more info about it, go to The American Association of Electronic Voice Phenomena's website . The concept is a little complicated for me to fully explain here. Suffice it to say that EVP is considered by many to be proof that ghosts exist, and is used as a way to communicate with them. Yeah, I know, it sounds like a bunch of BS, but really... its not. At least, I don't think so.
Yeah, logical me, believes in ghosts -- after a fashion anyway.
Thing is, I have my own personal belief system, and ghosts (spirits, whatever) happen to fit into it quite well. See, I don't believe in a personified god. God, to me, is just a word that people have used to describe a concept that is beyond human understanding. God is not a he, or a she, but a state of being, a level of understanding... but most of all, to me, god is balance. You know the ying yang symbol yes? Thats how I envision god. The ultimate perfection of balance between good and evil, between light and dark, between negative and positive, between male and female...
If you look at the world, it is constantly struggling for balance. Population struggles to maintain a balance with resources. Day and night struggle against each other to maintain balance. And if you look closer, you can see the struggle for balance in each and every event on the face of the planet. For every action that has a good outcome, that same action has a bad outcome as well. Take, for example, the simple act of picking up litter, and putting it in the trash. This is a good thing, yes, because it keeps the streets clean... but... its also a bad thing, because now that piece of trash is going to end up in a landfill, adding to the unending volume of waste we have to figure out something to do with. If that piece of trash had been left in the street, perhaps nature would have taken care of it... but you really can't say for sure can you.
Another example -- tsunamis. Yeah, these are a horrible disaster for humans. Hundreds of thousands die, property is lost, damaged, or destroyed... but... (and I hate to take such a cold calculating stance here) it decreases the ever growing overcrowded population, and it recycles land and resources, bringing about new opportunities for life to flourish. Volcanic erruptions are the same way. Yes, people die, yes property is destroyed. But the land that is left behind is more fertile, fresh, new, ready to support life...
You see, everything has two sides, and those two sides are in constant struggle to maintain balance.
How does all that have anything to do with ghosts? Alright... So I don't believe in heaven or hell, per se'. I do believe theres an afterlife of some sort, but I'm smart enough to admit that I have no clue what it is. My theory is that, people, just like nature, are in constant struggle to maintain a personal balance. Those people who fail, who's "souls" (no other word for it, sorry) fall out of balance, they stay here, searching for that balance even after death... Maybe finding that balance (and balance is a poor word really, but its the only one I can really identify with... or maybe wholeness... but balance is better somehow) is as simple as making sure that a loved one knows they are loved... Maybe its more complicated, maybe the soul is so unbalanced that it refuses to accept that its not alive anymore, that it feels it needs to keep hold of its territory (a house, a car, an area of land)... or maybe its thrown out of balance by something that the living do... like say, building tract homes on native american burial grounds. I don't know... obviously... because I've never been dead, nor have I been a ghost... so... this is all just speculation. But its what seems the most plausable to me. I mean, I've known too many people who've had run ins with "ghosts" to just say "nah, they don't exist". So this is my explanation... and why I do believe in EVP.
And yes... as always... I am still searching for my own balance. If I don't find it, I'll leave all y'all a voicemail from the grave saying so *wink wink*
Friday, August 26, 2005
This is a Public Service Announcement:
When deciding on a way to off yourself, please, PLEASE, don't opt for throwing yourself in front of a commuter train! While it definitely does the job quickly and easily, it tends to cause a great deal of inconvenience to the rest of society, especially me, who relies on the train to get to work every day.
Believe me, I know how tempting it is to just step off the platform. I've been there, staring down at the tracks, listening to the oncoming train, and thought about how simple it would be to just take one little step forward... but please... DON'T.
Hey, don't get me wrong. If you want to kill yourself, thats fine with me. The world is over-crowded, and one less person is just one less life form for the planet to support. Go for it. OD on pills, slit your wrists, swallow a bullet, drive off a cliff... heck, if you need more ideas, drop me an email or IM, and I'll think some up for you. But please, PLEASE, don't go with the train idea.
This morning, one of you suicidal fools made me 2 hours late for work because they took a dive in front of a train. The station had to be closed for hours while the coroner mopped up the mess. Trains were delayed and rerouted. Bus bridges had to be established. Thousands of people had their schedules fucked with, thousands of dollars were lost or wasted, an entire metropolitan area was crippled... all because one person was too selfish to off themselves privately.
So if you are seriously thinking of committing suicide... fine, great, sure. Just find a way to do it that doesn't inconvenience an entire society will ya?
Believe me, I know how tempting it is to just step off the platform. I've been there, staring down at the tracks, listening to the oncoming train, and thought about how simple it would be to just take one little step forward... but please... DON'T.
Hey, don't get me wrong. If you want to kill yourself, thats fine with me. The world is over-crowded, and one less person is just one less life form for the planet to support. Go for it. OD on pills, slit your wrists, swallow a bullet, drive off a cliff... heck, if you need more ideas, drop me an email or IM, and I'll think some up for you. But please, PLEASE, don't go with the train idea.
This morning, one of you suicidal fools made me 2 hours late for work because they took a dive in front of a train. The station had to be closed for hours while the coroner mopped up the mess. Trains were delayed and rerouted. Bus bridges had to be established. Thousands of people had their schedules fucked with, thousands of dollars were lost or wasted, an entire metropolitan area was crippled... all because one person was too selfish to off themselves privately.
So if you are seriously thinking of committing suicide... fine, great, sure. Just find a way to do it that doesn't inconvenience an entire society will ya?
Thursday, August 25, 2005
What Do You Want?
This is a sequel of sorts to a post I made last year. Please go read it before reading this one, so you understand what I'm talking about.
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"What do you want?" is a problematic question for me. Not all the time mind you, just in intimate situations. I never knew why either, which was disturbing, and left me just as baffled and confused by my reaction to it as everyone else was. Now though... Now I know why I react the way I do.
You'd think that understanding would make it better, or easier to deal with, but it doesn't. In fact, it makes it worse. Now instead of me just freezing up a bit, asking me what I want triggers flashbacks to what happened when I was little (go read that post too, if you haven't already, cuz I'm not going to go into detail here). Its like being transported back in time, and being that terrified little girl again. The real world ceases to exist, and I'm lost within the shattered memory, and I can't get out of it.
That happened last night -- and I just shut down. I tried to fight it, I really really did, but I couldn't. I couldn't even say what was wrong, when asked... *sigh* I felt so bad about it... still do actually... its not fair that someone else ends up getting punished for what some asshole did to me. Its not fair at all.
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"What do you want?" is a problematic question for me. Not all the time mind you, just in intimate situations. I never knew why either, which was disturbing, and left me just as baffled and confused by my reaction to it as everyone else was. Now though... Now I know why I react the way I do.
You'd think that understanding would make it better, or easier to deal with, but it doesn't. In fact, it makes it worse. Now instead of me just freezing up a bit, asking me what I want triggers flashbacks to what happened when I was little (go read that post too, if you haven't already, cuz I'm not going to go into detail here). Its like being transported back in time, and being that terrified little girl again. The real world ceases to exist, and I'm lost within the shattered memory, and I can't get out of it.
That happened last night -- and I just shut down. I tried to fight it, I really really did, but I couldn't. I couldn't even say what was wrong, when asked... *sigh* I felt so bad about it... still do actually... its not fair that someone else ends up getting punished for what some asshole did to me. Its not fair at all.
Tuesday, August 23, 2005
Um... Title... Fuggit, I Dunno
So, here I am again, wasting precious work hours by blogging. What can I say, its become a part of my morning "jump start my brain" ritual, and this morning I'm even more sleepy than usual, so its a necessary evil.
Yesterday was... many things. Work was extremely hectic, because I've become a defacto union rep, and was busy taking care of a meeting for all the union members in my department so that we could fill in our elected officials on the train wreck that this re-organization has become.
Honestly, I don't have a lot of faith in my union as a whole (as mentioned in past posts like union, we dont need no stinking union...), but I do believe in unions... as long as they work for their members, and not for their own political agendas. I had originally bowed out of union management because I felt that the union didn't have its priorities straight, and was caught up in petty shit that didn't matter much in the scheme of things... also because I'm relatively conservative politically, and the union is ultra liberal -- I ended up feeling very out of place, and as if my input was automatically discounted just because I wasn't a socialist.
I think that unions have a tendency to misuse their influence now, and some are "good" unions, and others are "bad" unions, and then theres just the ineffective ones... mine is a relatively ineffective one, but thats not entirely their fault. UC is a hard organization to battle, and my union is slightly disorganized... which makes it just that much harder to make any headway. Currently, we are working without a contract... which works to our advantage actually, because then UC has to bargain any and every change they make right now, and the union can summarily dismiss them by saying "nope sorry, we won't agree to that," and UC can't do anythying about it. Well, aside from punish the actual employees, but we're getting better about not giving in to those kinds of threats and scare tactics. I do wish my union would take a more logical approach to dealing with my employer... they'd make a lot more headway than they do currently, with their emotionally empassioned pleas... its like they refuse to understand that UC is a coldhearted conglomerate, and that all they care about are numbers -- hard and fast numbers. Ah well...
In this case though, I think the union is actually on the same page as I am. They recognize that there are huge problems here, and gross mistreatment of employees, and they want to do something about it. If them doing something about it takes me helping out by taking on the brunt of organization within my department, so be it. I'm skilled enough to pull it off, quite well, as yesterday's meeting proved. Thanks to my steering, everyone left the meeting feeling that things were accomplished, and that there was a game plan to get things going in the right direction. I also plan on manuvering myself into a position to attend the meeting between the union, and the department management so that I can make sure our concerns are addressed. More work for me, but I think in the long run, it will be worth my effort. Who knows, maybe I'll become some union big wig eventually... that would be kinda fun actually... being in charge like that... unfortunately, in order to do that, I'd have to stay a clerical, and really the money isn't that great. Its better than a fair amount make, but... its also worse than a fair amount make too.
Last night was MUCH more pleasant... went to see a movie -- The Skeleton Key -- which I highly recommend. It really is a psychological thriller, and while it didn't scare me, per se', I did really really like it. It was very well done, and not your typical hollywood gore-fest. I didn't end up getting home til after 1:30am, not because of the movie, but because of the company -- which was soooooo worth missing out on a little bit of sleep for *big grin*
So yeah... I'm tired as hell, but in a great mood anyway *flashes a winning smile* a REALLY great mood -- to the point that people are asking why I'm so happy as I walk down the hall... hmmm gee... I dunno... *wink wink*
Oh yeah... more changes to my blog format... yes, I'm bored. All my links are gone, but they will be back eventually... patience people, patience.
Yesterday was... many things. Work was extremely hectic, because I've become a defacto union rep, and was busy taking care of a meeting for all the union members in my department so that we could fill in our elected officials on the train wreck that this re-organization has become.
Honestly, I don't have a lot of faith in my union as a whole (as mentioned in past posts like union, we dont need no stinking union...), but I do believe in unions... as long as they work for their members, and not for their own political agendas. I had originally bowed out of union management because I felt that the union didn't have its priorities straight, and was caught up in petty shit that didn't matter much in the scheme of things... also because I'm relatively conservative politically, and the union is ultra liberal -- I ended up feeling very out of place, and as if my input was automatically discounted just because I wasn't a socialist.
I think that unions have a tendency to misuse their influence now, and some are "good" unions, and others are "bad" unions, and then theres just the ineffective ones... mine is a relatively ineffective one, but thats not entirely their fault. UC is a hard organization to battle, and my union is slightly disorganized... which makes it just that much harder to make any headway. Currently, we are working without a contract... which works to our advantage actually, because then UC has to bargain any and every change they make right now, and the union can summarily dismiss them by saying "nope sorry, we won't agree to that," and UC can't do anythying about it. Well, aside from punish the actual employees, but we're getting better about not giving in to those kinds of threats and scare tactics. I do wish my union would take a more logical approach to dealing with my employer... they'd make a lot more headway than they do currently, with their emotionally empassioned pleas... its like they refuse to understand that UC is a coldhearted conglomerate, and that all they care about are numbers -- hard and fast numbers. Ah well...
In this case though, I think the union is actually on the same page as I am. They recognize that there are huge problems here, and gross mistreatment of employees, and they want to do something about it. If them doing something about it takes me helping out by taking on the brunt of organization within my department, so be it. I'm skilled enough to pull it off, quite well, as yesterday's meeting proved. Thanks to my steering, everyone left the meeting feeling that things were accomplished, and that there was a game plan to get things going in the right direction. I also plan on manuvering myself into a position to attend the meeting between the union, and the department management so that I can make sure our concerns are addressed. More work for me, but I think in the long run, it will be worth my effort. Who knows, maybe I'll become some union big wig eventually... that would be kinda fun actually... being in charge like that... unfortunately, in order to do that, I'd have to stay a clerical, and really the money isn't that great. Its better than a fair amount make, but... its also worse than a fair amount make too.
Last night was MUCH more pleasant... went to see a movie -- The Skeleton Key -- which I highly recommend. It really is a psychological thriller, and while it didn't scare me, per se', I did really really like it. It was very well done, and not your typical hollywood gore-fest. I didn't end up getting home til after 1:30am, not because of the movie, but because of the company -- which was soooooo worth missing out on a little bit of sleep for *big grin*
So yeah... I'm tired as hell, but in a great mood anyway *flashes a winning smile* a REALLY great mood -- to the point that people are asking why I'm so happy as I walk down the hall... hmmm gee... I dunno... *wink wink*
Oh yeah... more changes to my blog format... yes, I'm bored. All my links are gone, but they will be back eventually... patience people, patience.
Monday, August 22, 2005
Proof That I Live In The Ghetto
For years, I have been telling people that I live in the ghetto, and have always been treated like some naive lil racist white girl. I have been laughed at, and told that I don't have half a clue.
Nevermind that the neighborhood I live in is severely run down.
Nevermind that there are iron bars on most windows.
Nevermind that cars are broken into regularly, or that the park behind my house has more activity at midnight than it ever did during the day.
Nevermind that people ride rusty, duct taped together bikes around because they have to, or that the payphone two blocks down is a distribution center for a variety of drugs.
Oh no, none of that matters because a) I have never been mugged, and b) I've never been shot at.
Well, let me tell you, neither of those things are likely to happen any time soon, because all the mexicans on my block (and the rest of the neighborhood for that matter) have decided that I am Latina, and that they want to fuck me more than they want to rob or kill me. And you know what? That's fine with me.
All that aside, I now have undeniable proof that I live in the ghetto.
Last night, I was at the japanese place across the street from my apt, finishing up dinner, when this chick barges into the place and hollers out, "anyone want to make five bucks??"
I look up to see the most dirty, strung out crankster I have ever seen, pointing at her ass, and saying, "I have the biggest zit on my ASS and I need someone to pop it! Will someone gimme a hand?"
Being this is a japanese restaurant, the waitress is standing at the counter with a deer in the headlights look on her face, not knowing how to react to what she obviously thinks is a lunatic gaijin [That is what japanese people call us white folks right? Correct me if I'm wrong please.] (not that she's far off on that one), and I'm sitting there trying not to crack up as the crankster continues her ranting.
"Look, I'd take care of it myself," she raves, "but I can't see back there."
Theres a mumble from a sushi chef.
"No," she starts up again, "I'm clean. Ain't no one gonna catch nothin. Man, if you won't help, call 911 for me. It hurts so bad I can't sit down. Shit. You think this ain't embarassing for me? I ain't never had a problem like this in my life. Someone help me out here."
Another mumble from a sushi chef.
"Man, I can't go to the hospital," she shrieks, "I ain't got no Medi-Cal. Look, won't someone just take a look?" The rant continues, getting less and less intelligible as she starts walking towards my table, pleading, "won't you help me out?"
I choke on my laughter as the waitress finally snaps out of her daze, and opens the door, motioning for the crankster to leave, squeaking out a tiny "please?"
Finally, after one of the sushi chefs points to the phone and says "police?" the crazy chick leaves, cursing everyone out for not popping the zit on her ass... and we all (except the poor shocked waitress, who remained shocked and rather wide-eyed) disolved into fits of laughter.
Man, if that doesn't prove that I live in a ghetto, I dunno what will. I have never, NEVER, had anything like that happen to me in suburbia, and I doubt it ever would. It was surrealistic, like watching a car crash -- you know you should look away, but you can't...
Dude, I need to move. Like now. Like yesterday! Damn...
Nevermind that the neighborhood I live in is severely run down.
Nevermind that there are iron bars on most windows.
Nevermind that cars are broken into regularly, or that the park behind my house has more activity at midnight than it ever did during the day.
Nevermind that people ride rusty, duct taped together bikes around because they have to, or that the payphone two blocks down is a distribution center for a variety of drugs.
Oh no, none of that matters because a) I have never been mugged, and b) I've never been shot at.
Well, let me tell you, neither of those things are likely to happen any time soon, because all the mexicans on my block (and the rest of the neighborhood for that matter) have decided that I am Latina, and that they want to fuck me more than they want to rob or kill me. And you know what? That's fine with me.
All that aside, I now have undeniable proof that I live in the ghetto.
Last night, I was at the japanese place across the street from my apt, finishing up dinner, when this chick barges into the place and hollers out, "anyone want to make five bucks??"
I look up to see the most dirty, strung out crankster I have ever seen, pointing at her ass, and saying, "I have the biggest zit on my ASS and I need someone to pop it! Will someone gimme a hand?"
Being this is a japanese restaurant, the waitress is standing at the counter with a deer in the headlights look on her face, not knowing how to react to what she obviously thinks is a lunatic gaijin [That is what japanese people call us white folks right? Correct me if I'm wrong please.] (not that she's far off on that one), and I'm sitting there trying not to crack up as the crankster continues her ranting.
"Look, I'd take care of it myself," she raves, "but I can't see back there."
Theres a mumble from a sushi chef.
"No," she starts up again, "I'm clean. Ain't no one gonna catch nothin. Man, if you won't help, call 911 for me. It hurts so bad I can't sit down. Shit. You think this ain't embarassing for me? I ain't never had a problem like this in my life. Someone help me out here."
Another mumble from a sushi chef.
"Man, I can't go to the hospital," she shrieks, "I ain't got no Medi-Cal. Look, won't someone just take a look?" The rant continues, getting less and less intelligible as she starts walking towards my table, pleading, "won't you help me out?"
I choke on my laughter as the waitress finally snaps out of her daze, and opens the door, motioning for the crankster to leave, squeaking out a tiny "please?"
Finally, after one of the sushi chefs points to the phone and says "police?" the crazy chick leaves, cursing everyone out for not popping the zit on her ass... and we all (except the poor shocked waitress, who remained shocked and rather wide-eyed) disolved into fits of laughter.
Man, if that doesn't prove that I live in a ghetto, I dunno what will. I have never, NEVER, had anything like that happen to me in suburbia, and I doubt it ever would. It was surrealistic, like watching a car crash -- you know you should look away, but you can't...
Dude, I need to move. Like now. Like yesterday! Damn...
Friday, August 19, 2005
Metrosexual Military?
Okay, so in the hopes of sparking some sort of discussion... I went searching through the news for something to write about. Now, I could have picked the article about the diaper that was mistaken for a bomb... which was rather funny... but this one... this one is amazingly odd.
Britain is now arming its men, not with better fire arms, but with anti bacterial underwear. Yeah, you read that right. The article goes on to say that the underwear is designed so that the seams 'dont chafe' and also that the underwear is 'unisex.' Um. Aren't there more important things in war to worry about than whether or not your underwear chafes? The anti-bacterial thing I can see, being its war, and there are no showers in war... or laundromats... but since when is CHAFING a military concern?? And they've got "combat sandals" and wrap around sun glasses as well!! What on earth? Has the military gone metrosexual?? These soldiers are going to end up better dressed than I am! I can see it now:
British GI (in as flame-y a voice possible): "Oh I just LOVE these new uniforms... They don't chafe at all! But, Seargent? This color clashes with my eyes... Do be a doll and get get me one in blue?"
Bleh.
I did think the comment about how the British military used to complain that their boots would MELT in the heat... man, can you imagine? Walking down the street and having your boot stick to the pavement?
So now the British military says that their troops are "among the best equipped in the world, ready to face environments ranging from desert conditions in Iraq, monsoon conditions in Brunei, to winter in the Balkans" -- but he forgot to mention how prepared they'll be for the gay sex club scene in SF. Haha. Alright, that was wrong of me... but really... combat sandals... I can't get over that...
Britain is now arming its men, not with better fire arms, but with anti bacterial underwear. Yeah, you read that right. The article goes on to say that the underwear is designed so that the seams 'dont chafe' and also that the underwear is 'unisex.' Um. Aren't there more important things in war to worry about than whether or not your underwear chafes? The anti-bacterial thing I can see, being its war, and there are no showers in war... or laundromats... but since when is CHAFING a military concern?? And they've got "combat sandals" and wrap around sun glasses as well!! What on earth? Has the military gone metrosexual?? These soldiers are going to end up better dressed than I am! I can see it now:
British GI (in as flame-y a voice possible): "Oh I just LOVE these new uniforms... They don't chafe at all! But, Seargent? This color clashes with my eyes... Do be a doll and get get me one in blue?"
Bleh.
I did think the comment about how the British military used to complain that their boots would MELT in the heat... man, can you imagine? Walking down the street and having your boot stick to the pavement?
So now the British military says that their troops are "among the best equipped in the world, ready to face environments ranging from desert conditions in Iraq, monsoon conditions in Brunei, to winter in the Balkans" -- but he forgot to mention how prepared they'll be for the gay sex club scene in SF. Haha. Alright, that was wrong of me... but really... combat sandals... I can't get over that...
A Change of Scenery
Yes, I changed my colors... to something admittedly more girly than I really am... but red and black is just soooooooo over-done... so yeah...
Not much to say today... just been playing with the scripting on my blog, and learning some html stuff... nifty doodle for me.
I'm the only one in my dept who showed up to work today, and in celebration of that fact, I am hardly working... not that anyone seems to notice what I do, as long as I sit at my desk for most of the day.
Oh yeah... am wearing heels today... I almost never wear heels... and let me tell you... walking down a steep hill in 3 inch heels... is death defying. You feel like one of those mountain goats or something, perched on an iiiity biiiiity ledge, and each step you take feels like yards, not inches... even though you are inching your way down... because you're scared of heights and the extra 3 inches is just too much (okay so maybe thats just me... but you get the idea)... not to mention your toes are now crammed into the front of the shoes, beyond hope of ever regaining their individuality, in an accordian style lump... ow.
Why in the fuck did I wear heels to work? Oh yeah. Cuz I'm going out tonite, and wanted to look all sexy and shit... man... if only men knew what we women go through just to look cute... they'd never complain about anything ever again.
Alright... out for a smoke, then back to work for me.
Not much to say today... just been playing with the scripting on my blog, and learning some html stuff... nifty doodle for me.
I'm the only one in my dept who showed up to work today, and in celebration of that fact, I am hardly working... not that anyone seems to notice what I do, as long as I sit at my desk for most of the day.
Oh yeah... am wearing heels today... I almost never wear heels... and let me tell you... walking down a steep hill in 3 inch heels... is death defying. You feel like one of those mountain goats or something, perched on an iiiity biiiiity ledge, and each step you take feels like yards, not inches... even though you are inching your way down... because you're scared of heights and the extra 3 inches is just too much (okay so maybe thats just me... but you get the idea)... not to mention your toes are now crammed into the front of the shoes, beyond hope of ever regaining their individuality, in an accordian style lump... ow.
Why in the fuck did I wear heels to work? Oh yeah. Cuz I'm going out tonite, and wanted to look all sexy and shit... man... if only men knew what we women go through just to look cute... they'd never complain about anything ever again.
Alright... out for a smoke, then back to work for me.
Thursday, August 18, 2005
Okay Folks...
I know I've got some new regular readers out there... my Sitemeter tells me so.
So people... Do me a favor and comment. Seriously. Lets get some discussion going. Rip my posts to shreds. Tell me I'm full of shit. Something.
Don't make me beg... Eventhough I know there are some of you out there who get off on that kind of thing *wink wink*
So people... Do me a favor and comment. Seriously. Lets get some discussion going. Rip my posts to shreds. Tell me I'm full of shit. Something.
Don't make me beg... Eventhough I know there are some of you out there who get off on that kind of thing *wink wink*
The Lost Art of Communication
It has come to my attention that the world (for the most part) has forgotten the ancient art of communication. Now, I know this seems a ridiculous thing to say to all you bloggers -- we are all hell bent on communicating our thoughts, feelings, political views, sexual escapades, recipes for chocolate zucchini cake, etc, etc, with the rest of the online world. Even so, we too are letting the art of communication grow stale and musty -- blogging about how wives dont understand their husbands needs, how our teenagers don't listen, about how the rest of the world doesn't understand us... and so on. Why? Because as skilled as we are at writing, we have forgotten how to communicate interactively.
Case in point: I was reading a blog today written by a man who is having extreme marital difficulties, to the degree that he thinks his wife is cheating on him. They sneak around behind each other's backs, snooping on each other's activities... She reads his blog eventhough she promised not to, he checks her cell phone activity, and her email and chat records... She denies him physical intimacy, while he works harder to get into her good graces by doing what he thinks she wants... But do they talk about what is really bothering them? Do they talk about what they REALLY want from each other? No. Or rather, the husband tries, and the wife yells and screams and shuts him down. So the husband is left to wander around in the dark, guessing at what might make his wife happy, and the wife is left with misconceptions about how her husband feels towards her... All because they cannot have an open, honest conversation.
Lack of communication is the death of any association, especially one as intimate as a marriage.
Another case in point: As I have said many times before, my department is being re-organized and restructured, and a myriad of managerial mishaps have taken place. Management decides to do something, and does it, without consulting the people involved to see what the consequences might be, and as a result, chaos ensues. Management makes changes to policies and procedures without informing the people that need to follow them, and as a result, chaos ensues. Now, management is transitioning employees from one organization into the new organization, without informing anyone how this process is supposed to work. As a result, the staff is completely in the dark, scared that they will lose their jobs, unsure what they have to do to keep their positions, and morale is dropping so hard and fast that they're going to start having to patch holes in the floor any minute now. We are confused, and frustrated, and are all looking for new jobs in other departments. But all it would take to calm us down and make us stay would be for the management to communicate their plans and intentions.
The irony is that communication isn't hard. We make it hard, by projecting our own thoughts and feelings onto what other people say. We make it hard, by being afraid that other people will judge us. We make it hard, by judging other people. If we could all learn to just say what we mean, and mean what we say (tactfully of course), communication would be EASY. People have been communicating for thousands of years. We should be experts at it by now. But instead, communication has become a lost art. It has become twisted, and tainted, by political and personal agendas, by predjudice and fear, by pride and greed... We have forgotten how to use our words to the benefit of all involved. We have forgotten that there even is anyone else involved. Discussions become monologues. Conversations become contests about who is right. Debates become diatribes. We don't talk WITH other people anymore. We talk AT them. And sadly, I don't see it changing any time soon.
Our self indulgent, self centered, materialistic, adversarial society has made war on community, and communication was the first casualty. Its a pity, really. Because so much could be accomplished, if we would just communicate with one another...
Wars could be averted. Famine could be circumvented. Epidemics could be halted. Addictions could be avoided. Violent crime could be completely eradicated.
But no... instead of talking openly about the problems we all face, instead of communicating our ideas and solutions... we hide in our own little worlds, ranting and raving through our blogs... insisting on being heard, yet insisting on not hearing anything else...
and I am just as guilty of it as the rest of the blog-verse.
Case in point: I was reading a blog today written by a man who is having extreme marital difficulties, to the degree that he thinks his wife is cheating on him. They sneak around behind each other's backs, snooping on each other's activities... She reads his blog eventhough she promised not to, he checks her cell phone activity, and her email and chat records... She denies him physical intimacy, while he works harder to get into her good graces by doing what he thinks she wants... But do they talk about what is really bothering them? Do they talk about what they REALLY want from each other? No. Or rather, the husband tries, and the wife yells and screams and shuts him down. So the husband is left to wander around in the dark, guessing at what might make his wife happy, and the wife is left with misconceptions about how her husband feels towards her... All because they cannot have an open, honest conversation.
Lack of communication is the death of any association, especially one as intimate as a marriage.
Another case in point: As I have said many times before, my department is being re-organized and restructured, and a myriad of managerial mishaps have taken place. Management decides to do something, and does it, without consulting the people involved to see what the consequences might be, and as a result, chaos ensues. Management makes changes to policies and procedures without informing the people that need to follow them, and as a result, chaos ensues. Now, management is transitioning employees from one organization into the new organization, without informing anyone how this process is supposed to work. As a result, the staff is completely in the dark, scared that they will lose their jobs, unsure what they have to do to keep their positions, and morale is dropping so hard and fast that they're going to start having to patch holes in the floor any minute now. We are confused, and frustrated, and are all looking for new jobs in other departments. But all it would take to calm us down and make us stay would be for the management to communicate their plans and intentions.
The irony is that communication isn't hard. We make it hard, by projecting our own thoughts and feelings onto what other people say. We make it hard, by being afraid that other people will judge us. We make it hard, by judging other people. If we could all learn to just say what we mean, and mean what we say (tactfully of course), communication would be EASY. People have been communicating for thousands of years. We should be experts at it by now. But instead, communication has become a lost art. It has become twisted, and tainted, by political and personal agendas, by predjudice and fear, by pride and greed... We have forgotten how to use our words to the benefit of all involved. We have forgotten that there even is anyone else involved. Discussions become monologues. Conversations become contests about who is right. Debates become diatribes. We don't talk WITH other people anymore. We talk AT them. And sadly, I don't see it changing any time soon.
Our self indulgent, self centered, materialistic, adversarial society has made war on community, and communication was the first casualty. Its a pity, really. Because so much could be accomplished, if we would just communicate with one another...
Wars could be averted. Famine could be circumvented. Epidemics could be halted. Addictions could be avoided. Violent crime could be completely eradicated.
But no... instead of talking openly about the problems we all face, instead of communicating our ideas and solutions... we hide in our own little worlds, ranting and raving through our blogs... insisting on being heard, yet insisting on not hearing anything else...
and I am just as guilty of it as the rest of the blog-verse.
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
Being Good To Myself
For the past few days, I'd been thinking about the fact that with all the resume's I've been sending out, I'm bound to be called for a face to face interview eventually. And then it dawned on me. I don't own any clothing suitable to wear to an interview!! I've grown so accustomed to the casual work environment here that all I really own are jeans and camisole tops, with the rare skirt thrown in -- and those skirts are more suited to a metal concert than an office environment anyway. So, with my wardrobe shortcomings in mind, I headed to Ross straight after work yesterday.
Let me just say, the only two places I shop for clothes anymore are Ross, and Goodwill. I simply can't afford the prices anywhere else, and besides, I never fail to make amazing finds at both places.
Okay, so the goal yesterday was to find some business-like office attire... but while sifting through the racks (Ross is never organized, so you always have to sift) I found a really cute pair of jeans in my size. I was about to put them back, but I stopped...
Queue internal argument:
Me: These are sooo cute...
Myself: They're not interview wear though...
Me: But I need jeans
Myself: No, you need stuff to wear to an interview.
Me: Oh come on, I need jeans.
Myself: No, you need slacks.
Me: Hey, I work hard, don't I deserve to look good while I do it?
Myself: Yes... but...
I: We rarely spend money on ourselves, we deserve a treat now and again, just buy them already.
So I picked them up. I did find a really great pair of black Haggar stretch slacks for "business attire" not too far away... and by the way, I look amazing in them. So off for blouses I went. Unfortunately I couldn't find any with sleeves that I liked, so I went digging through the "tank top" section... where I found the cutest cami ever. It was black lycra-ish with a deep criss-cross V neck, and adorable little eyelets all over. Mmm... not businessy at all, but I kept coming back to it, I liked it so much...
Queue internal argument:
Me: I would look soooo good in that...
Myself: But we're looking for interview clothes...
Me: But I'd look amazing in that.
Myself: Not for an interview you wouldn't
Me: Its only 7 bucks...
Myself (increasingly petulant): But we're already getting the jeans...
Me: Oh My God! It'd go GREAT with those jeans!
Myself (wimpering): But... Interview...
Me: Come on, I deserve nice clothes don't I?
Myself: But!!
I: Can it already. We deserve to look nice all the time, not just for interviews. Get it already.
So I did. And I found a great blouse for interviews too... sleeveless with one of those necklines thats a bunch of really loose fabric so it folds down into a V neck... black and satiny... very posh indeed.
After I paid for everything, I started to feel a little guilty for having splurged on myself...
Queue internal argument:
Myself: I hope you're happy
Me: What?
Myself: We so should have spent that money elsewhere.
Me: Like where?
Myself: The phone bill, the car registration, RENT, gee, I dunno...
Me: Oh...
Myself: But nooooo you wanna look "cute"
Me: Whats wrong with that??
Myself: Its not very practical now is it. Theres nothing wrong with the clothes we own already...
Me: But they're old, and kinda raggedy.. and not stylish at all.
Myself: So what? They're clothes.. its not like we're running around naked.
Me: But...
Myself: But what? You're so frivilous sometimes
Me (increasingly sad): But I'm tired of looking like a frump
Myself: So? Think about all the other things you could do with that cash.
Me: But...
I: Oh My God. Will you shut up? What's done is done. Get over it already.
Myself: But that was a waste.
I: No it wasn't. Feeling good about ourselves is important. And if spending 20 bucks on new clothes will help us do that, then its money well spent. We deserve to look, and feel good. Now shut up!
*Myself goes and sulks in a corner while Me happily counts the bricks in the sidewalk*
I really like I... I is sensible and positive, and won't take any kind of crap. She's always the one to stand up for us in a fight. Me, can be frivilous and kind of childish at times, but she's carefree and girly to a degree that I wish I could maintain on a regular basis. Myself is always the penny pincher and is always down on us. I secretly think she gets off on pointing out our flaws... and no, I'm not insane. Its just that I have these three main facets to my personality that are so well defined that they're almost personalities in and of themselves. And I really do argue with myself that way... its kind of funny at times. So yeah, back to my point...
All this... is a result of me trying to be better to myself. Its something that I realize I haven't done enough of in my life. I've always put other people first, and neglected my own wants and needs. So I'm working on that. If I've had a hard day, instead of cooking, I go out to eat, or order delivery. Or I might buy myself something. Maybe a book, or a cute top, or even something as small as a new pen (I love pens... I have pen-gasms in stationary stores), or a chocolate bar (though, I tend to steer clear of those on most occasions because I don't need the calories). Yeah, money is always a concern for me... my budget isn't the loosest in the world... but I can afford the occasional treat for myself. I HAVE to afford it. It makes me a happier person to treat myself like I'm special, and it helps me believe that I'm special too. And the better I feel about myself, the happier I am, the easier it is to get up in the morning. The easier it is to look in the mirror. The easier it is to make it through the day.
On that note... everyone, your task for the day is to do something nice for yourself. Because you are special, and you deserve to splurge on yourself every now and again. It doesn't matter what you do, or how you do it... it could be as simple as taking an extra long bubble bath, or having 2 cookies instead of one... or getting your nails done... whatever it is, it should make you feel good about yourself. :)
Let me just say, the only two places I shop for clothes anymore are Ross, and Goodwill. I simply can't afford the prices anywhere else, and besides, I never fail to make amazing finds at both places.
Okay, so the goal yesterday was to find some business-like office attire... but while sifting through the racks (Ross is never organized, so you always have to sift) I found a really cute pair of jeans in my size. I was about to put them back, but I stopped...
Queue internal argument:
Me: These are sooo cute...
Myself: They're not interview wear though...
Me: But I need jeans
Myself: No, you need stuff to wear to an interview.
Me: Oh come on, I need jeans.
Myself: No, you need slacks.
Me: Hey, I work hard, don't I deserve to look good while I do it?
Myself: Yes... but...
I: We rarely spend money on ourselves, we deserve a treat now and again, just buy them already.
So I picked them up. I did find a really great pair of black Haggar stretch slacks for "business attire" not too far away... and by the way, I look amazing in them. So off for blouses I went. Unfortunately I couldn't find any with sleeves that I liked, so I went digging through the "tank top" section... where I found the cutest cami ever. It was black lycra-ish with a deep criss-cross V neck, and adorable little eyelets all over. Mmm... not businessy at all, but I kept coming back to it, I liked it so much...
Queue internal argument:
Me: I would look soooo good in that...
Myself: But we're looking for interview clothes...
Me: But I'd look amazing in that.
Myself: Not for an interview you wouldn't
Me: Its only 7 bucks...
Myself (increasingly petulant): But we're already getting the jeans...
Me: Oh My God! It'd go GREAT with those jeans!
Myself (wimpering): But... Interview...
Me: Come on, I deserve nice clothes don't I?
Myself: But!!
I: Can it already. We deserve to look nice all the time, not just for interviews. Get it already.
So I did. And I found a great blouse for interviews too... sleeveless with one of those necklines thats a bunch of really loose fabric so it folds down into a V neck... black and satiny... very posh indeed.
After I paid for everything, I started to feel a little guilty for having splurged on myself...
Queue internal argument:
Myself: I hope you're happy
Me: What?
Myself: We so should have spent that money elsewhere.
Me: Like where?
Myself: The phone bill, the car registration, RENT, gee, I dunno...
Me: Oh...
Myself: But nooooo you wanna look "cute"
Me: Whats wrong with that??
Myself: Its not very practical now is it. Theres nothing wrong with the clothes we own already...
Me: But they're old, and kinda raggedy.. and not stylish at all.
Myself: So what? They're clothes.. its not like we're running around naked.
Me: But...
Myself: But what? You're so frivilous sometimes
Me (increasingly sad): But I'm tired of looking like a frump
Myself: So? Think about all the other things you could do with that cash.
Me: But...
I: Oh My God. Will you shut up? What's done is done. Get over it already.
Myself: But that was a waste.
I: No it wasn't. Feeling good about ourselves is important. And if spending 20 bucks on new clothes will help us do that, then its money well spent. We deserve to look, and feel good. Now shut up!
*Myself goes and sulks in a corner while Me happily counts the bricks in the sidewalk*
I really like I... I is sensible and positive, and won't take any kind of crap. She's always the one to stand up for us in a fight. Me, can be frivilous and kind of childish at times, but she's carefree and girly to a degree that I wish I could maintain on a regular basis. Myself is always the penny pincher and is always down on us. I secretly think she gets off on pointing out our flaws... and no, I'm not insane. Its just that I have these three main facets to my personality that are so well defined that they're almost personalities in and of themselves. And I really do argue with myself that way... its kind of funny at times. So yeah, back to my point...
All this... is a result of me trying to be better to myself. Its something that I realize I haven't done enough of in my life. I've always put other people first, and neglected my own wants and needs. So I'm working on that. If I've had a hard day, instead of cooking, I go out to eat, or order delivery. Or I might buy myself something. Maybe a book, or a cute top, or even something as small as a new pen (I love pens... I have pen-gasms in stationary stores), or a chocolate bar (though, I tend to steer clear of those on most occasions because I don't need the calories). Yeah, money is always a concern for me... my budget isn't the loosest in the world... but I can afford the occasional treat for myself. I HAVE to afford it. It makes me a happier person to treat myself like I'm special, and it helps me believe that I'm special too. And the better I feel about myself, the happier I am, the easier it is to get up in the morning. The easier it is to look in the mirror. The easier it is to make it through the day.
On that note... everyone, your task for the day is to do something nice for yourself. Because you are special, and you deserve to splurge on yourself every now and again. It doesn't matter what you do, or how you do it... it could be as simple as taking an extra long bubble bath, or having 2 cookies instead of one... or getting your nails done... whatever it is, it should make you feel good about yourself. :)
Monday, August 15, 2005
I'm Not Going To Appologize Just Because You Say I Should
I'm stealing valuable time from work to write this, but something has been bugging me for a good part of the past weekend.
On Saturday, during an argument with someone, it was said that I am self righteous, insensitive, that I will say whatever I feel like saying without thinking about the feelings of the person I'm talking to, and that I blame other people for them getting upset about what I say, not taking any of the responsibility on myself, and never appologizing.
Even though the person who made these accusations probably won't be reading my blog, I felt I needed to write about it here, and get some feedback from you all, be it positive, negative, or whatever.
First of all, I don't see how anyone who knows me could ever see me as self righteous or insensitive. I am, I think, one of the most kind, caring, non-judgemental, accepting people you could ever hope to meet. I have friends of all ages, genders, sexual orientations, colors, races, nationalities, life styles, income levels, etc etc ad nauseum, and I don't think I am better than any of them. I accept them as they are, with little expectation of them except that they be a friend to me as best they can. How is that self righteous? I mean, I make the joke that I couldn't be any more open-minded without my brain falling out of my head. Come on people.
As for insensitive, I'm outreaged to the point of laughter about that. I have always, to the point of self neglect, put other people's wants, needs, and feelings ahead of my own. I'm one of those people who will bend over backwards, tie myself in a pretzel, and walk on my hands over hot coals to the end of the world and back if thats what it will take to make a friend happy. I can't help but be hyper-sensitive towards the feelings of others. I'm empathic. I feel the world around me more intensely than other people do, and as a result, can't bear causing someone pain unless its absolutely necessary -- because to cause someone else pain is to cause myself pain... It's impossible for me to be insensitive without shutting myself down completely -- and thats more work than its worth.
Now, saying what I feel without thinking of the other person's feelings... I think everyone is guilty of this every now and again. Sometimes the stuff that churns around inside our heads makes it out of our mouths without us realizing it until its too late. Thankfully I don't have this problem too often, because most of my conversations take place via Instant Message and I can backspace to my heart's contentment. But I too am subject to the innate human-ness that causes the occasional slip of the tongue (or enter key), and when I do accidentally say something I didn't mean, or meant but worded wrong, I admit it, and appologize. Sincerely.
Ok. Here's the tough one. Blaming other people for getting upset about what I say, not taking any of the responsibility upon myself, and subsequently not appologizing -- Thing is, you really have to know me in order to understand this. In a way, this is the one accusation that comes close to the truth. But here's why:
I am one of the very few women you will ever come across who says exactly what she means, and means exactly what she says. This is a difficult idea for most people to wrap their minds around, as most people (especially women) are not like this. So many misunderstandings ensue because people read subcontext into one of my statements where there isnt any. I can't even begin to count the number of times this has happened, and I'm starting to get sick of it. People simply refuse to understand that I am always completely honest (though, there are some intensely private things that I keep to myself -- but that isn't dishonesty, its tact, and maintains my privacy about things that are frankly no one's goddamned business but mine), that I mean what I say, and say exactly what I mean, no more, no less. As such, I will not take responsibility for a misunderstanding that happens as a result of A) taking what I say out of context, B) twisting my words around so they mean something other than what I actually said, or C) reading more into what I've said than what I've actually said. I'm sorry, but I simply will NOT appologize to someone if their doing these things has caused them to get pissed off. That is their fault not mine.
Another thing is that I hold to the idea that most things I say are purely my opinion, and should not be taken as anything more. I enjoy a good debate, or deep discussion, but only in so much as that they are an open exchange of ideas, not one person trying to convince the other how right they are. I take everything someone says with that same idea, that this is just their opinion, and as such, I can regard it, or disregard it, as I see fit. Yes, sometimes that comes off as me seeming full of myself, or as me not taking someone's feelings into consideration, but that's not the case. Understanding someone's viewpoint and agreeing with it are two totally different things. Just because I understand why someone thinks, or feels, a certain way -- that doesn't mean I'm going to agree with it, and people get bent out of shape over that. While I'm sorry that they get upset, I'm not going to appologize for not agreeing with them. I'm just not. It would be undermining my own integrity for me to do so, and I'm not going to sell myself short like that.
And I'm not going to appologize for anything just because someone else thinks I should. I appologize when I feel I should, because I've done, or said, something wrong or hurtful; because --I-- have fucked up somehow, not because I'm not acting the way someone else thinks I should, or because I'm not saying what someone else thinks I should. I respect myself enough to hold to my own standards of behavior, and I'm not going to modify that for anyone. If I did, what kind of person would that make me?
On Saturday, during an argument with someone, it was said that I am self righteous, insensitive, that I will say whatever I feel like saying without thinking about the feelings of the person I'm talking to, and that I blame other people for them getting upset about what I say, not taking any of the responsibility on myself, and never appologizing.
Even though the person who made these accusations probably won't be reading my blog, I felt I needed to write about it here, and get some feedback from you all, be it positive, negative, or whatever.
First of all, I don't see how anyone who knows me could ever see me as self righteous or insensitive. I am, I think, one of the most kind, caring, non-judgemental, accepting people you could ever hope to meet. I have friends of all ages, genders, sexual orientations, colors, races, nationalities, life styles, income levels, etc etc ad nauseum, and I don't think I am better than any of them. I accept them as they are, with little expectation of them except that they be a friend to me as best they can. How is that self righteous? I mean, I make the joke that I couldn't be any more open-minded without my brain falling out of my head. Come on people.
As for insensitive, I'm outreaged to the point of laughter about that. I have always, to the point of self neglect, put other people's wants, needs, and feelings ahead of my own. I'm one of those people who will bend over backwards, tie myself in a pretzel, and walk on my hands over hot coals to the end of the world and back if thats what it will take to make a friend happy. I can't help but be hyper-sensitive towards the feelings of others. I'm empathic. I feel the world around me more intensely than other people do, and as a result, can't bear causing someone pain unless its absolutely necessary -- because to cause someone else pain is to cause myself pain... It's impossible for me to be insensitive without shutting myself down completely -- and thats more work than its worth.
Now, saying what I feel without thinking of the other person's feelings... I think everyone is guilty of this every now and again. Sometimes the stuff that churns around inside our heads makes it out of our mouths without us realizing it until its too late. Thankfully I don't have this problem too often, because most of my conversations take place via Instant Message and I can backspace to my heart's contentment. But I too am subject to the innate human-ness that causes the occasional slip of the tongue (or enter key), and when I do accidentally say something I didn't mean, or meant but worded wrong, I admit it, and appologize. Sincerely.
Ok. Here's the tough one. Blaming other people for getting upset about what I say, not taking any of the responsibility upon myself, and subsequently not appologizing -- Thing is, you really have to know me in order to understand this. In a way, this is the one accusation that comes close to the truth. But here's why:
I am one of the very few women you will ever come across who says exactly what she means, and means exactly what she says. This is a difficult idea for most people to wrap their minds around, as most people (especially women) are not like this. So many misunderstandings ensue because people read subcontext into one of my statements where there isnt any. I can't even begin to count the number of times this has happened, and I'm starting to get sick of it. People simply refuse to understand that I am always completely honest (though, there are some intensely private things that I keep to myself -- but that isn't dishonesty, its tact, and maintains my privacy about things that are frankly no one's goddamned business but mine), that I mean what I say, and say exactly what I mean, no more, no less. As such, I will not take responsibility for a misunderstanding that happens as a result of A) taking what I say out of context, B) twisting my words around so they mean something other than what I actually said, or C) reading more into what I've said than what I've actually said. I'm sorry, but I simply will NOT appologize to someone if their doing these things has caused them to get pissed off. That is their fault not mine.
Another thing is that I hold to the idea that most things I say are purely my opinion, and should not be taken as anything more. I enjoy a good debate, or deep discussion, but only in so much as that they are an open exchange of ideas, not one person trying to convince the other how right they are. I take everything someone says with that same idea, that this is just their opinion, and as such, I can regard it, or disregard it, as I see fit. Yes, sometimes that comes off as me seeming full of myself, or as me not taking someone's feelings into consideration, but that's not the case. Understanding someone's viewpoint and agreeing with it are two totally different things. Just because I understand why someone thinks, or feels, a certain way -- that doesn't mean I'm going to agree with it, and people get bent out of shape over that. While I'm sorry that they get upset, I'm not going to appologize for not agreeing with them. I'm just not. It would be undermining my own integrity for me to do so, and I'm not going to sell myself short like that.
And I'm not going to appologize for anything just because someone else thinks I should. I appologize when I feel I should, because I've done, or said, something wrong or hurtful; because --I-- have fucked up somehow, not because I'm not acting the way someone else thinks I should, or because I'm not saying what someone else thinks I should. I respect myself enough to hold to my own standards of behavior, and I'm not going to modify that for anyone. If I did, what kind of person would that make me?
Friday, August 12, 2005
Mad Musings
well, one of the myriad of managerial mishaps has miraculously mended itself and I am mainly in the midst of mastering the mayhem of my marginalized memorandum... my thats a mouthful *grin* maniacal? me? mmmm... maybe... *wink*
Yes... I did use a thesaurus once or twice there... but it was worth it *grin*
So yeah, to translate all that... I finally got access to the financial systems again, and am now digging my way through a week and a half's worth of backlog. Good stuff maynard! So I don't really have time to goof off at work right now, thus no deep insightful posts for a while *sniff sniff*
To catch you up though, and keep you in the loop, and all that... That guy and I broke things off. Or rather, he beat me to it, so I'm counting it as mutual (oh god, no more m words). He was a bit of a wuss about it though, sending me an email explaining in depth how great I am, and how he's too young for me, and how we shouldn't even try to stay friends, but he'd like to keep track of how I'm doing with the occasional email sent back and forth... Little did he know that I'd already come to the same conclusion, minus the keeping track of each other thing... so my response to his digital rejection was two lines exactly:
'Glad you said it before I had to. If you want to keep tabs on me, read my blog'
My ex husband nearly died laughing when I told him... and really, I found it quite comical myself how cold I could be... but I think it was a deserved response. Really I do.
Anyway... I'm off to spend the weekend with my son... I'll try to go more into detail about things sometime before monday... but no guarantees.
Yes... I did use a thesaurus once or twice there... but it was worth it *grin*
So yeah, to translate all that... I finally got access to the financial systems again, and am now digging my way through a week and a half's worth of backlog. Good stuff maynard! So I don't really have time to goof off at work right now, thus no deep insightful posts for a while *sniff sniff*
To catch you up though, and keep you in the loop, and all that... That guy and I broke things off. Or rather, he beat me to it, so I'm counting it as mutual (oh god, no more m words). He was a bit of a wuss about it though, sending me an email explaining in depth how great I am, and how he's too young for me, and how we shouldn't even try to stay friends, but he'd like to keep track of how I'm doing with the occasional email sent back and forth... Little did he know that I'd already come to the same conclusion, minus the keeping track of each other thing... so my response to his digital rejection was two lines exactly:
'Glad you said it before I had to. If you want to keep tabs on me, read my blog'
My ex husband nearly died laughing when I told him... and really, I found it quite comical myself how cold I could be... but I think it was a deserved response. Really I do.
Anyway... I'm off to spend the weekend with my son... I'll try to go more into detail about things sometime before monday... but no guarantees.
Wednesday, August 10, 2005
My Hand Up
My hand up today came in a rather unusual form. It came in the form of my interview.
I think I did pretty well overall, and made a point to exude confidence even when I wasn't in the least bit confident by any means. When asked the one question that I didn't know how to answer, I responded with "In that situation, I wouldn't feel comfortable making a decision without doing further research," and was rewarded with a small appreciative "hmmm..."
I was able to coax my interviewer into laughter at one point, and impressed her with current knowledge of research projects, and even managed to name drop without actually name dropping. I had her taking notes like mad when I started talking about the medical research projects that "make me feel like the work I do here is infinitely important, not just to the research being done, but to society as well." OH MY GOD!! Do I know how to sweet talk or WHAT?
The one issue I had with the interview was that it was a phone interview, which not only seemed completely unprofessional, but also made it difficult to judge the reactions to what I was saying, and even made it hard to see if she was remotely understanding it in the first place. There was no body language for me to read, and I felt like it left me with a rather large disadvantage.
Aside from that, I think I did exceptionally well, and am hoping for an email requestiong a formal, face to face interview.
So that lifted my spirits, and even helped to stave off the migraine thats been threatening to implode my skull all day.
I also got a chance to talk to my ex about my current guy problems... And he actually had some good advice, and was able to make me feel slightly less pathetic. Yay him! I've already left the boy a phone message saying that I'm not going to be available tonite... so, I think that when I get home today, I'm taking my pills early, and going straight to bed. My mind is on overload, and my body isn't far behind. I've only got an hour left before I can leave, and believe you me, I will be running for the door!
I think I did pretty well overall, and made a point to exude confidence even when I wasn't in the least bit confident by any means. When asked the one question that I didn't know how to answer, I responded with "In that situation, I wouldn't feel comfortable making a decision without doing further research," and was rewarded with a small appreciative "hmmm..."
I was able to coax my interviewer into laughter at one point, and impressed her with current knowledge of research projects, and even managed to name drop without actually name dropping. I had her taking notes like mad when I started talking about the medical research projects that "make me feel like the work I do here is infinitely important, not just to the research being done, but to society as well." OH MY GOD!! Do I know how to sweet talk or WHAT?
The one issue I had with the interview was that it was a phone interview, which not only seemed completely unprofessional, but also made it difficult to judge the reactions to what I was saying, and even made it hard to see if she was remotely understanding it in the first place. There was no body language for me to read, and I felt like it left me with a rather large disadvantage.
Aside from that, I think I did exceptionally well, and am hoping for an email requestiong a formal, face to face interview.
So that lifted my spirits, and even helped to stave off the migraine thats been threatening to implode my skull all day.
I also got a chance to talk to my ex about my current guy problems... And he actually had some good advice, and was able to make me feel slightly less pathetic. Yay him! I've already left the boy a phone message saying that I'm not going to be available tonite... so, I think that when I get home today, I'm taking my pills early, and going straight to bed. My mind is on overload, and my body isn't far behind. I've only got an hour left before I can leave, and believe you me, I will be running for the door!
Conflicted...
Wow. I don't know where to start today. Maybe I should start by saying, I have not slept.
Honestly, I didn't even try last night. I knew it was a lost cause even before I got into bed. I was distraught. I was needy. I was alone.
That guy I mentioned last week somewhere... well, he's turning out to be a lot less awesome than I originally thought. The problem is, he can't make up his mind what he wants from me. That, and as most young people do, he's suffering from some stupid idealized view of how emotional attraction works. Sadly, I've let myself become way too entangled in whatever the hell is going through his head, and now --I-- don't know what I want. Okay, thats not entirely true. I know what I want. I just don't know what I want from him. Which puts me between a rock and a hard place, because I've been saying that he needs to make up his mind, and now I can't make up mine.
My worry is that I'm only taking this bullshit from him because I'm so totally and utterly lonely, not because of something that we actually have together. Am I only being this optimistic because I'm so fukking desperate for a relationship? Would I put up with this if I were the least bit content with my solitude? Would I?? You know, I don't think I would.
But then, there are the good things... That we can talk about anything for hours on end, without being totally judgemental of each other. That there are really rough issues that we've both dealt with, so we can understand the dark parts of each other. That we can joke, and laugh... That we're both totally affectionate...
But is it worth the hassle? Really?
I think I need to take a really close look at my motivations and decide why I'm letting this boy affect me like this. I need to decide if this is about him, or if its about me.
And I have a sinking feeling that its about me; my fear of being alone, my need for physical attention, my need to feel loved, and wanted, and understood...
Yes, today I'm in the bottom of a pit... a deep dark pit. I could really use a hand up... and right now, I don't care who's hand it is.
Honestly, I didn't even try last night. I knew it was a lost cause even before I got into bed. I was distraught. I was needy. I was alone.
That guy I mentioned last week somewhere... well, he's turning out to be a lot less awesome than I originally thought. The problem is, he can't make up his mind what he wants from me. That, and as most young people do, he's suffering from some stupid idealized view of how emotional attraction works. Sadly, I've let myself become way too entangled in whatever the hell is going through his head, and now --I-- don't know what I want. Okay, thats not entirely true. I know what I want. I just don't know what I want from him. Which puts me between a rock and a hard place, because I've been saying that he needs to make up his mind, and now I can't make up mine.
My worry is that I'm only taking this bullshit from him because I'm so totally and utterly lonely, not because of something that we actually have together. Am I only being this optimistic because I'm so fukking desperate for a relationship? Would I put up with this if I were the least bit content with my solitude? Would I?? You know, I don't think I would.
But then, there are the good things... That we can talk about anything for hours on end, without being totally judgemental of each other. That there are really rough issues that we've both dealt with, so we can understand the dark parts of each other. That we can joke, and laugh... That we're both totally affectionate...
But is it worth the hassle? Really?
I think I need to take a really close look at my motivations and decide why I'm letting this boy affect me like this. I need to decide if this is about him, or if its about me.
And I have a sinking feeling that its about me; my fear of being alone, my need for physical attention, my need to feel loved, and wanted, and understood...
Yes, today I'm in the bottom of a pit... a deep dark pit. I could really use a hand up... and right now, I don't care who's hand it is.
Tuesday, August 09, 2005
I Am Bored
This whole not being able to work thing is really starting to drive me a little insane. I know, I know, I said I wasn't going to bitch about work on here anymore. But this is driving me a bit bonkers, and if I don't say something somewhere, I'm going to lose my mind completely.
I have a really strong work ethic. I like to keep busy. But I'm being barred from being my naturally productive self, my only outlet for the past week and a half being this blog.
The myriad of managerial mishaps have multiplied as well... Now they're magically filling positions that haven't even been posted on the job site, and announcing filled positions before telling all the applicants that they didnt get the job... rude and unprofessional is what that is, but mostly flat out rude.
And the elevator is broken AGAIN.
And they approved vacation for two of the four people left in my department for the SAME WEEK. As if we're not understaffed enough as it is. God Dammit.
Fuck it. I'm going home. I've had it. Screw 'em.
I have a really strong work ethic. I like to keep busy. But I'm being barred from being my naturally productive self, my only outlet for the past week and a half being this blog.
The myriad of managerial mishaps have multiplied as well... Now they're magically filling positions that haven't even been posted on the job site, and announcing filled positions before telling all the applicants that they didnt get the job... rude and unprofessional is what that is, but mostly flat out rude.
And the elevator is broken AGAIN.
And they approved vacation for two of the four people left in my department for the SAME WEEK. As if we're not understaffed enough as it is. God Dammit.
Fuck it. I'm going home. I've had it. Screw 'em.
SWEET!!
Okay, not the totally in depth material that I've been churning out latley, but I had to brag. I just HAD to!
I have an interview tomorrow!! *jumps up and down excitedly*
Okay, so last week I sent out those seven applications, and today I got a response back from one asking if I'd be free for an phone interview tomorrow afternoon.
Well of COURSE I am!! Duh!!
You know, I'm not even nervous. I'm just thrilled that I got a response. My resume' and Melissa's cover letter were good enough to get me an interview! Woohoo!!
So yeah, I'm bouncing off the walls with glee... though, I think that the extra cup of coffee I had today might have just the teeniest tiniest bit to do with that...
Wish me oodles of luck!!
I have an interview tomorrow!! *jumps up and down excitedly*
Okay, so last week I sent out those seven applications, and today I got a response back from one asking if I'd be free for an phone interview tomorrow afternoon.
Well of COURSE I am!! Duh!!
You know, I'm not even nervous. I'm just thrilled that I got a response. My resume' and Melissa's cover letter were good enough to get me an interview! Woohoo!!
So yeah, I'm bouncing off the walls with glee... though, I think that the extra cup of coffee I had today might have just the teeniest tiniest bit to do with that...
Wish me oodles of luck!!
The Importance of Touch
I grew up in a huge Italian family, where hugs and kisses weren't just the norm, but were a constant. Physical affection of all types weren't just accepted, but were common practice. I spent many a hot NY August night sprawled across my aunt's lap, or legs, or even using her butt as a pillow while watching game shows in my great grandmother's air conditioned living room.
As kids, nothing was thought of us running around the house, or back yard, in our birthday suits... Bodies weren't anything to be ashamed of, or hidden, in my family.
That total acceptance of nudity and physical affection carried over into my adult life, spurring my extreme dislike of uncomfortable and restrictive clothing (like underwear) and my extreme need for hugs and kisses.
To me, touch is a language all its own. It can communicate love, or hate. It can communicate calm, or agitation. It can communicate a feeling of safety, or unease. Touch cannot lie. It cannot be anything other than honest, because you can feel the emotion behind it; the intent. In many ways, I think touch speaks louder than words. It has more resonance, more depth, more layers -- and that can make it a difficult language to learn. But once you learn it, the world takes on more color, and your perception changes.
Without touch, the entire world would wither and die.
For example -- studies were done in Romanian orphanages about the amount of time babies were held, and how their vital signs were affected. The study was brought on by the extremely high death rate of infants in the orphanages mind you, and it wasn't done just for the hell of it. Babies that weren't held lost interest in life. Their weights dropped dangerously because they didn't want to eat, they became listless and unresponsive, their heart rates dropped, as did their respiration rates. Those babies that weren't held, died. On the other hand, babies that were held for extended periods of time on a regular basis gained weight quickly. They became more alert, their heart and respiration rates stayed strong, and they developed at a very healthy rate.
But the babies that weren't held, DIED.
I feel like that sometimes, like if I don't get a hug I'm going to wither and die... And to a degree, its the truth. The longer I go without physical affection, the more lonely I get, the more lethargic I get, the more depressed I get... The less motivated I am to live life to the fullest. Its funny how that works, but its true. I am always my absolute happiest when I'm curled up, safe and sound, within someone's arms.
Is it human nature though, to crave touch to such a degree? Or is it my upbringing? I think it's a little of both. That Romanian orphanage thing proves that as children we need physical affection in order to grow and develop at a healthy rate. I think we keep at least a little bit of that need when we grow up. If we didn't, I don't think there would be so many people obsessed with sex. That's the only publicly accepted way to really touch anymore -- I mean, walk down Market Street in SF during the height of rush hour. No matter how crowded it is, no one will so much as brush up against you.
As a society, on the West Coast anyway, touching someone without their express consent just isn't allowed. Its taboo to even make eye contact with a stranger anymore. There are some people that can survive that way I'm sure. But all the people that I talk to are miserable without having someone to at least cuddle with every so often.
For me though, the drive is stronger. I'm not suited to single life where I only get a hug from someone once in a blue moon. I need that touch to feel loved, to feel reassured, to feel safe, and happy, and secure.
To quote my own poetry:
Just a hand to hold would be enough
A shoulder on which I could lean.
Just...
Someone to hold me.
As kids, nothing was thought of us running around the house, or back yard, in our birthday suits... Bodies weren't anything to be ashamed of, or hidden, in my family.
That total acceptance of nudity and physical affection carried over into my adult life, spurring my extreme dislike of uncomfortable and restrictive clothing (like underwear) and my extreme need for hugs and kisses.
To me, touch is a language all its own. It can communicate love, or hate. It can communicate calm, or agitation. It can communicate a feeling of safety, or unease. Touch cannot lie. It cannot be anything other than honest, because you can feel the emotion behind it; the intent. In many ways, I think touch speaks louder than words. It has more resonance, more depth, more layers -- and that can make it a difficult language to learn. But once you learn it, the world takes on more color, and your perception changes.
Without touch, the entire world would wither and die.
For example -- studies were done in Romanian orphanages about the amount of time babies were held, and how their vital signs were affected. The study was brought on by the extremely high death rate of infants in the orphanages mind you, and it wasn't done just for the hell of it. Babies that weren't held lost interest in life. Their weights dropped dangerously because they didn't want to eat, they became listless and unresponsive, their heart rates dropped, as did their respiration rates. Those babies that weren't held, died. On the other hand, babies that were held for extended periods of time on a regular basis gained weight quickly. They became more alert, their heart and respiration rates stayed strong, and they developed at a very healthy rate.
But the babies that weren't held, DIED.
I feel like that sometimes, like if I don't get a hug I'm going to wither and die... And to a degree, its the truth. The longer I go without physical affection, the more lonely I get, the more lethargic I get, the more depressed I get... The less motivated I am to live life to the fullest. Its funny how that works, but its true. I am always my absolute happiest when I'm curled up, safe and sound, within someone's arms.
Is it human nature though, to crave touch to such a degree? Or is it my upbringing? I think it's a little of both. That Romanian orphanage thing proves that as children we need physical affection in order to grow and develop at a healthy rate. I think we keep at least a little bit of that need when we grow up. If we didn't, I don't think there would be so many people obsessed with sex. That's the only publicly accepted way to really touch anymore -- I mean, walk down Market Street in SF during the height of rush hour. No matter how crowded it is, no one will so much as brush up against you.
As a society, on the West Coast anyway, touching someone without their express consent just isn't allowed. Its taboo to even make eye contact with a stranger anymore. There are some people that can survive that way I'm sure. But all the people that I talk to are miserable without having someone to at least cuddle with every so often.
For me though, the drive is stronger. I'm not suited to single life where I only get a hug from someone once in a blue moon. I need that touch to feel loved, to feel reassured, to feel safe, and happy, and secure.
To quote my own poetry:
Just a hand to hold would be enough
A shoulder on which I could lean.
Just...
Someone to hold me.
Monday, August 08, 2005
Life After Sex
Warning: This post deals with disturbing concepts and frank discussion of sexual subject matter. Read at your own risk.
This is a day for the history books; the first time I am writing openly about something that happened when I was very little, and the impact it's had on me as a person.
When I was little more than a toddler, I was sexually molested. By whom, I don't know. My memory... well, it buried itself, and is only recently (over the past few years) coming back in bits and pieces... a voice that echoes in my head, the faintest flash of an image, a smell, a sound, a feeling... Post Traumatic Stress Disorder at its best.
I can remember a man’s voice saying to me "Go on, hold it. It won’t hurt you," and me saying that I didn’t want to, then being snapped at, the man saying "It doesn’t matter. This is what I want. You want to make me happy don’t you?"
I don’t remember much more than that... just bits and pieces which hint at something more malicious. I wish I could remember more. I wish I could remember who that voice belonged to, so I could hunt him down and disembowel him with a rusty spoon. There are things about it that I just know… without having a true memory to back it up, just things that trigger the fear, disgust, and self loathing that go hand in hand with the memories I do have. Like the fact that I freak when a guy asks me to kiss "it," or how I have to fight the urge to throw up when asked if its okay to cum in my face -- not that that particular act is at all appealing anyway, but my reaction is more than the normal level of revulsion. Even just writing about it, my heart is in my throat, and my stomach is clenching.
I also have scars that I can’t quite explain... I don’t remember getting them. I don’t remember when I first noticed them either. They’re just there... and of a type, and placement, that suggests something sinister.
You’d think that the experience would have turned me off to anything even remotely sexual, but instead it did the opposite. I became hyper-sexual at a very young age, instigating sex games with friends, intent on satisfying an insatiable curiosity about our bodies -- what they look like, how they work... I wonder at the fact that no one questioned my behavior, that no adult noticed that I wasn’t acting like a normal little girl.
As a pre-teen, and teenager, I dove head on into semi-sexual relationships, experimenting with everything except actual technical intercourse, and only avoiding that for fear of pregnancy. I gave and received as many things as I could dream up, and read as much erotic fiction as I could get my hands on... I had my first lesbian experience when I was 11, my second at 14, gave my first blow job and hand job at 15, my first experience with phone sex at 16, got oral for the first time at 17, and lost my virginity at 18 to a friend because I was frustrated with being a virgin and thus being considered untouchable, participated in a polyamorous relationship when I was 20...
I thought that sexual activity was the only way to show love. I thought that if you weren’t having sex with your boyfriend/girlfriend, there was something wrong with you. If a guy wasn’t trying to get into my pants, I thought he didn’t like me, didn’t care about me, didn’t love me. I couldn’t accept that a guy would want to wait out of respect, or love, for me. I dumped every boyfriend that wouldn’t be as physical as I wanted, or thought I needed. My issues about physical intimacy and with my hyper-sexuality even affected my marriage in a negative way.
After my ex and I split up, I immediately found a sexual relationship to be in. I went from one guy, to another after that ended... avoiding my emotions by throwing myself into emotionless sex, one night stands, fuck buddies... until I realized that it wasn’t helping. It was only making me feel worse about myself. In five months, I had slept with at least 10 different people, and I didn’t like the label I was beginning to get from my friends... I was considered "easy" or worse, a "slut"... and that made me feel dirty... not to mention the fact that I can’t even remember all their names, which is still extremely disturbing to me. Emotionless sex, isn’t my style, and never has been. I prefer to care about, or love, the person I’m with, because to me, sex is the ultimate way to express love for someone... and how could I say that, if I slept with everyone who I felt the slightest bit of lust for? How could I say that, if I was using sex to avoid feeling anything deeper than lust? I couldn’t. And that bothered me too.
So I stopped, all together, just flat stopped. I went out, had fun with friends, but left it at just hanging out, and I started to feel good about myself again...
I still get cravings… who doesn’t? I still tease, and flirt, and steal hugs whenever I can. But I don’t take it further than that unless I care about that person... really care, not just lust after. It’s a new tactic for me; something I’m not used to, in the least, and it’s a learning experience. But at least it’s a pleasant learning experience :)
This is a day for the history books; the first time I am writing openly about something that happened when I was very little, and the impact it's had on me as a person.
When I was little more than a toddler, I was sexually molested. By whom, I don't know. My memory... well, it buried itself, and is only recently (over the past few years) coming back in bits and pieces... a voice that echoes in my head, the faintest flash of an image, a smell, a sound, a feeling... Post Traumatic Stress Disorder at its best.
I can remember a man’s voice saying to me "Go on, hold it. It won’t hurt you," and me saying that I didn’t want to, then being snapped at, the man saying "It doesn’t matter. This is what I want. You want to make me happy don’t you?"
I don’t remember much more than that... just bits and pieces which hint at something more malicious. I wish I could remember more. I wish I could remember who that voice belonged to, so I could hunt him down and disembowel him with a rusty spoon. There are things about it that I just know… without having a true memory to back it up, just things that trigger the fear, disgust, and self loathing that go hand in hand with the memories I do have. Like the fact that I freak when a guy asks me to kiss "it," or how I have to fight the urge to throw up when asked if its okay to cum in my face -- not that that particular act is at all appealing anyway, but my reaction is more than the normal level of revulsion. Even just writing about it, my heart is in my throat, and my stomach is clenching.
I also have scars that I can’t quite explain... I don’t remember getting them. I don’t remember when I first noticed them either. They’re just there... and of a type, and placement, that suggests something sinister.
You’d think that the experience would have turned me off to anything even remotely sexual, but instead it did the opposite. I became hyper-sexual at a very young age, instigating sex games with friends, intent on satisfying an insatiable curiosity about our bodies -- what they look like, how they work... I wonder at the fact that no one questioned my behavior, that no adult noticed that I wasn’t acting like a normal little girl.
As a pre-teen, and teenager, I dove head on into semi-sexual relationships, experimenting with everything except actual technical intercourse, and only avoiding that for fear of pregnancy. I gave and received as many things as I could dream up, and read as much erotic fiction as I could get my hands on... I had my first lesbian experience when I was 11, my second at 14, gave my first blow job and hand job at 15, my first experience with phone sex at 16, got oral for the first time at 17, and lost my virginity at 18 to a friend because I was frustrated with being a virgin and thus being considered untouchable, participated in a polyamorous relationship when I was 20...
I thought that sexual activity was the only way to show love. I thought that if you weren’t having sex with your boyfriend/girlfriend, there was something wrong with you. If a guy wasn’t trying to get into my pants, I thought he didn’t like me, didn’t care about me, didn’t love me. I couldn’t accept that a guy would want to wait out of respect, or love, for me. I dumped every boyfriend that wouldn’t be as physical as I wanted, or thought I needed. My issues about physical intimacy and with my hyper-sexuality even affected my marriage in a negative way.
After my ex and I split up, I immediately found a sexual relationship to be in. I went from one guy, to another after that ended... avoiding my emotions by throwing myself into emotionless sex, one night stands, fuck buddies... until I realized that it wasn’t helping. It was only making me feel worse about myself. In five months, I had slept with at least 10 different people, and I didn’t like the label I was beginning to get from my friends... I was considered "easy" or worse, a "slut"... and that made me feel dirty... not to mention the fact that I can’t even remember all their names, which is still extremely disturbing to me. Emotionless sex, isn’t my style, and never has been. I prefer to care about, or love, the person I’m with, because to me, sex is the ultimate way to express love for someone... and how could I say that, if I slept with everyone who I felt the slightest bit of lust for? How could I say that, if I was using sex to avoid feeling anything deeper than lust? I couldn’t. And that bothered me too.
So I stopped, all together, just flat stopped. I went out, had fun with friends, but left it at just hanging out, and I started to feel good about myself again...
I still get cravings… who doesn’t? I still tease, and flirt, and steal hugs whenever I can. But I don’t take it further than that unless I care about that person... really care, not just lust after. It’s a new tactic for me; something I’m not used to, in the least, and it’s a learning experience. But at least it’s a pleasant learning experience :)
Friday, August 05, 2005
Don’t Tell Me I’m Beautiful…
… I never know how to react when someone says that. I don’t see myself that way, and I don’t think I ever will. I see my flaws too clearly to be able to accept the idea that I’m anything more than average or cute. As much as I’ve tried to change my appearance – losing weight, dying my hair, dressing better – my self image is still pretty much the same. I’ve tried to see myself the way others say they see me. I’ve really tried. And while I can see how individual parts of me are attractive, I can’t seem to see myself, as a whole, as attractive.
Maybe I can’t see the forest for the trees… but no matter how many times I’m told that I’m beautiful, I always find a way to discount it. I look in the mirror, and instead of seeing the nice things about myself, I see every flaw, every blemish, every extra pound… the scar on my forehead, the one on my eyelid, the one on my arm, and the ones on my thighs… the stretch marks, the sag of my tummy… the stray hairs between my eyebrows that I have to yank every so often, the funny curve to my fingers, the frizzy mess my hair becomes without oodles of gel and leave in conditioners, the space between my two front teeth…those are the things I see. Not the beauty that others say is there.
So when you say I’m beautiful, I can’t help but think you’re either lying or deluded. I can’t help the blush of embarrassment I get because I think you’re just saying it to flatter me. I can’t help not knowing what to say, because the only words that come to mind are “bullshit” and “you’re just saying that.” But I’ve learned to hold my tongue, as those responses just cause further discussion of the topic… and I don’t want to hear it. The words are lost on me anyway. I’ve always believed in showing, not telling; in actions speaking louder than words…
So, if you want to tell me that you think I’m beautiful… don’t.
Show me instead.
Maybe I can’t see the forest for the trees… but no matter how many times I’m told that I’m beautiful, I always find a way to discount it. I look in the mirror, and instead of seeing the nice things about myself, I see every flaw, every blemish, every extra pound… the scar on my forehead, the one on my eyelid, the one on my arm, and the ones on my thighs… the stretch marks, the sag of my tummy… the stray hairs between my eyebrows that I have to yank every so often, the funny curve to my fingers, the frizzy mess my hair becomes without oodles of gel and leave in conditioners, the space between my two front teeth…those are the things I see. Not the beauty that others say is there.
So when you say I’m beautiful, I can’t help but think you’re either lying or deluded. I can’t help the blush of embarrassment I get because I think you’re just saying it to flatter me. I can’t help not knowing what to say, because the only words that come to mind are “bullshit” and “you’re just saying that.” But I’ve learned to hold my tongue, as those responses just cause further discussion of the topic… and I don’t want to hear it. The words are lost on me anyway. I’ve always believed in showing, not telling; in actions speaking louder than words…
So, if you want to tell me that you think I’m beautiful… don’t.
Show me instead.
Thursday, August 04, 2005
I'm Not The Delusional One
Today is turning out to be one of the absolute strangest days ever. I really don’t know how to wrap my head around everything that’s gone on since yesterday, and I feel like I’m on some sort of really fucked up roller coaster ride.
First things first: Last night, I had a date, and we went to a pre-screening of a foreign indie flick in SF, called “The Edukators.” The movie was awesome by the way, and if you have a chance to go see it, you really, really should. It was full of socio-economic commentary and political standpoints, and it totally made me think. It helped that I went with the most awesome guy. The night was perfect; absolutely perfect. I don’t think I could have had a better time. I haven’t felt so appreciated, or cared about, in… well… ever I guess; wholly and completely accepted for me, liked, and even admired maybe, for how different I am from other people. And there was this incredible magnetism… this need to touch, and be touched by him… but there was an innocence to it, like it didn’t have to go further than just hugging, kissing, and holding hands. There wasn’t that push, that urgency, for more. It felt like we had all the time in the world, and I was happy just being with him. And that is a rare thing for me. So rare, that I don’t think I’ve ever had it happen before. I didn’t get home ‘til midnight, but I didn’t care, I felt so relaxed and happy. I went to sleep that way, and woke up that way too. I woke up late, and was late for work too, but it didn’t matter. It was worth it. I was in such a good mood...
But then I got to work, and heard my voicemail.
My ex husband had called, sounding distraught. But he didn’t say what about, just to call him back ASAP. The first thing that went through my mind was “something’s happened to KG” (for anyone who’s forgotten, KG is the nickname we’ve given my son). So of course, I immediately call him back, my heart pounding in my chest so hard it was rattling my ribs, screwing with my breathing something fierce.
The idea of anything happening to my baby (who isn’t a baby anymore, and stands easily 4’6” despite being only 6 yrs old – that’s just above chest height on me) terrifies me. He is my life, my one real reason for living, literally. If it weren’t for my son, I would never have returned from my absence this year. I would never have sought help. I wouldn’t be here, today, writing this. Someday, I’ll tell him how he saved my life… but he’s a little young yet for such heavy stuff.
So anyway – I was scared when I called my ex, scared to death. I all but stopped breathing when his voice broke as he started talking… until I realized that he wasn’t talking about KG at all. I didn’t get a chance to be relieved however…
Here’s the story as best I know it:
Early this morning, my ex’s girlfriend (we’ll just call her GF for ease of reference), her brother, and her sister, were involved in a head on collision with a big rig, which was driven by a drunken trucker. He basically drove straight over their car, and caused a 7 car pile up.
GF’s brother was killed instantly, but was dismembered so badly that the only way the cops could identify him was by the driver’s license in the back pocket of his jeans. They couldn’t even find all the pieces apparently… god… I get queasy just thinking about that. GF’s sister was critically injured, and died some hours later on the operating table.
GF herself suffered only moderate injuries, and left the hospital against medical advice so she could get in touch with my ex… but she later collapsed and had to be rushed back to the hospital for treatment of a rather vicious head injury.
So my ex is going to be flying out to stay with her tomorrow.
I don’t know GF, or her family. But I’m still shocked and appalled, and equally full of grief and sympathy, as well as a healthy dose of rage.
Things like this really make me stop and think about how fragile life is though; how easily it can be lost… It doesn’t make me covet my life, but it does make me appreciate my loved ones just that much more, and make me try to spend as much time with them as possible. Because, who knows just how long they’ll be here for me to enjoy? They could be wrenched from me tomorrow, or next week… they might be around for decades to come, or they might only have hours left on this earth.
Why waste one minute that could be spent with them? Why worry about petty arguments or material possessions? Do any of those things really matter anyway? I don’t think so. There’s a cliché’ that goes “the best things in life are always free,” and the best things in life, are the relationships we have with the ones we care about. We shouldn’t squander those relationships. We should cherish them; hold onto them with all our might.
I guess its also things like this that make me so protective of my son. The constant reminders that he could be snatched from my life at any moment… you know, my psychiatrist says that my paranoia and anxiety stem from a combination of PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder) and Bipolar Disorder Type 1, but I’m starting to disagree to a degree. I think I’m just suffering from life, from the world around me. How can I NOT be afraid when subways in London are being blown up, when there are gang bangers on the bus with guns in their pockets, when planes skid off landing strips and burst into flames, when loved ones’ loved ones are killed in freak car accidents? How can I NOT be affected by these things? I think maybe I’m not the one with the problem. I think it’s the rest of the world, the people who see all this and DON’T fear for the safety of the people they care about. They’re the ones who are sick. They’re the ones that need psychotherapy. They’re the ones that need medication, because they’re going through life in denial of the dangers around them, hiding in a fantasy world where nothing could possibly go wrong. They’re the delusional ones, not me.
Definitely not me.
First things first: Last night, I had a date, and we went to a pre-screening of a foreign indie flick in SF, called “The Edukators.” The movie was awesome by the way, and if you have a chance to go see it, you really, really should. It was full of socio-economic commentary and political standpoints, and it totally made me think. It helped that I went with the most awesome guy. The night was perfect; absolutely perfect. I don’t think I could have had a better time. I haven’t felt so appreciated, or cared about, in… well… ever I guess; wholly and completely accepted for me, liked, and even admired maybe, for how different I am from other people. And there was this incredible magnetism… this need to touch, and be touched by him… but there was an innocence to it, like it didn’t have to go further than just hugging, kissing, and holding hands. There wasn’t that push, that urgency, for more. It felt like we had all the time in the world, and I was happy just being with him. And that is a rare thing for me. So rare, that I don’t think I’ve ever had it happen before. I didn’t get home ‘til midnight, but I didn’t care, I felt so relaxed and happy. I went to sleep that way, and woke up that way too. I woke up late, and was late for work too, but it didn’t matter. It was worth it. I was in such a good mood...
But then I got to work, and heard my voicemail.
My ex husband had called, sounding distraught. But he didn’t say what about, just to call him back ASAP. The first thing that went through my mind was “something’s happened to KG” (for anyone who’s forgotten, KG is the nickname we’ve given my son). So of course, I immediately call him back, my heart pounding in my chest so hard it was rattling my ribs, screwing with my breathing something fierce.
The idea of anything happening to my baby (who isn’t a baby anymore, and stands easily 4’6” despite being only 6 yrs old – that’s just above chest height on me) terrifies me. He is my life, my one real reason for living, literally. If it weren’t for my son, I would never have returned from my absence this year. I would never have sought help. I wouldn’t be here, today, writing this. Someday, I’ll tell him how he saved my life… but he’s a little young yet for such heavy stuff.
So anyway – I was scared when I called my ex, scared to death. I all but stopped breathing when his voice broke as he started talking… until I realized that he wasn’t talking about KG at all. I didn’t get a chance to be relieved however…
Here’s the story as best I know it:
Early this morning, my ex’s girlfriend (we’ll just call her GF for ease of reference), her brother, and her sister, were involved in a head on collision with a big rig, which was driven by a drunken trucker. He basically drove straight over their car, and caused a 7 car pile up.
GF’s brother was killed instantly, but was dismembered so badly that the only way the cops could identify him was by the driver’s license in the back pocket of his jeans. They couldn’t even find all the pieces apparently… god… I get queasy just thinking about that. GF’s sister was critically injured, and died some hours later on the operating table.
GF herself suffered only moderate injuries, and left the hospital against medical advice so she could get in touch with my ex… but she later collapsed and had to be rushed back to the hospital for treatment of a rather vicious head injury.
So my ex is going to be flying out to stay with her tomorrow.
I don’t know GF, or her family. But I’m still shocked and appalled, and equally full of grief and sympathy, as well as a healthy dose of rage.
Things like this really make me stop and think about how fragile life is though; how easily it can be lost… It doesn’t make me covet my life, but it does make me appreciate my loved ones just that much more, and make me try to spend as much time with them as possible. Because, who knows just how long they’ll be here for me to enjoy? They could be wrenched from me tomorrow, or next week… they might be around for decades to come, or they might only have hours left on this earth.
Why waste one minute that could be spent with them? Why worry about petty arguments or material possessions? Do any of those things really matter anyway? I don’t think so. There’s a cliché’ that goes “the best things in life are always free,” and the best things in life, are the relationships we have with the ones we care about. We shouldn’t squander those relationships. We should cherish them; hold onto them with all our might.
I guess its also things like this that make me so protective of my son. The constant reminders that he could be snatched from my life at any moment… you know, my psychiatrist says that my paranoia and anxiety stem from a combination of PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder) and Bipolar Disorder Type 1, but I’m starting to disagree to a degree. I think I’m just suffering from life, from the world around me. How can I NOT be afraid when subways in London are being blown up, when there are gang bangers on the bus with guns in their pockets, when planes skid off landing strips and burst into flames, when loved ones’ loved ones are killed in freak car accidents? How can I NOT be affected by these things? I think maybe I’m not the one with the problem. I think it’s the rest of the world, the people who see all this and DON’T fear for the safety of the people they care about. They’re the ones who are sick. They’re the ones that need psychotherapy. They’re the ones that need medication, because they’re going through life in denial of the dangers around them, hiding in a fantasy world where nothing could possibly go wrong. They’re the delusional ones, not me.
Definitely not me.
Wednesday, August 03, 2005
Do I Stick With Mediocrity?
Since I still can't work, I've been catching up on my blog reading... and I've come to a rather depressing conclusion. My blog, is drivel. [what? you say... drivel?? -- yes, drivel, I said it, I mean it] There are people out here in the blog verse, who write their blogs like they're writing a novel, and a good one at that. They reach into their hearts and minds, and post the contents for all of us to see... and here I am complaining about my job *sigh*.
Why take it to heart? Well... I like to consider myself a good writer. I know I have it in me to post like these other people do. I know I do, because once in a blue moon, I have. I know the ability is there, and I now see that I'm not tapping into it like I should.
But you bitching about your job is FUNNY! -- you say... Yes, its funny. But the depth just isn't there. Sure, I'm a sarcastic daughter of a bitch... I always will be. I will always have that edge that cuts so deeply... But I realize, I'm wasting my talent with mindless rants. I'm not trying, and I should be. That is, after all, why I started this blog in the first place. To put my insides outside. And I haven't been doing that. Not as much as I should anyway.
But we LIKE your rants! -- you say... Thats great. I'm glad. And they'll still show up every now and again. But they'll be more thought out... more refined... Meanwhile, you'll see a little more of the real me, the true me, the me that the rest of the world doesn't usually get to see... since I hide behind smiles and laughter. More poetry will probably show up too... I hope you don't mind. I promised myself this wouldn't just become a gallery for my unmarketable verse, and I plan on sticking to that. There's no reason to torture you poor souls that way, unless something is really at least halfway decent, and has a point...
Anyway... I have some thinking to do... I'll be around later.
Why take it to heart? Well... I like to consider myself a good writer. I know I have it in me to post like these other people do. I know I do, because once in a blue moon, I have. I know the ability is there, and I now see that I'm not tapping into it like I should.
But you bitching about your job is FUNNY! -- you say... Yes, its funny. But the depth just isn't there. Sure, I'm a sarcastic daughter of a bitch... I always will be. I will always have that edge that cuts so deeply... But I realize, I'm wasting my talent with mindless rants. I'm not trying, and I should be. That is, after all, why I started this blog in the first place. To put my insides outside. And I haven't been doing that. Not as much as I should anyway.
But we LIKE your rants! -- you say... Thats great. I'm glad. And they'll still show up every now and again. But they'll be more thought out... more refined... Meanwhile, you'll see a little more of the real me, the true me, the me that the rest of the world doesn't usually get to see... since I hide behind smiles and laughter. More poetry will probably show up too... I hope you don't mind. I promised myself this wouldn't just become a gallery for my unmarketable verse, and I plan on sticking to that. There's no reason to torture you poor souls that way, unless something is really at least halfway decent, and has a point...
Anyway... I have some thinking to do... I'll be around later.
Tuesday, August 02, 2005
Three Posts In One Day
not quite a record mind you, but damned close, especially given how long i was MIA. this not being able to work thing is really getting on my nerves, and is generally pissing me off... turning my relatively good mood into a rather crappy one.
i feel like i'm wasting my time by showing up for work. and i dont like wasting my time.
so i went cruising the blog-verse, checking up on some blogs that i hadn't read in a long time, and came across one that really put me in a sad mood. a guy, spilling his heart out, about his failing marriage, and all the things he's doing to try and save it, but to no avail.
blah. damn me for reading it. now i feel even WORSE. *sigh*
when i get home, i am taking a long LONG bubble bath, and relaxing. i dont think my normal commute home to decompress is gonna work today... no matter how loud i turn up the metal.
plus i'm tired... i really need to get more sleep... but for the past two nights, i've been up late on the phone... because i really didnt wanna hang up... and i dont regret it either. its been a long time since i've had conversations like those... long, drawn out, in depth, who are you really, kind of conversations... laughing, teasing, goofing around, make you feel good about yourself, kind of conversations too... wish you could stay awake for days on end just so you didnt have to stop talking conversations... i'd forgotten how nice that is. hell, i'd forgotten those kinds of conversations even existed... hopefully i get to have another one tonite... tho, i do worry that i'll run out of things to say eventually... and well... that would just suck.
i mean... most of the conversations i've had lately are more like job interviews than anything else... and in a way, they were. people looking for relationships, and not having the time or energy to mess around with small talk, tend to be rather to the point in their conversations. i'm as guilty of it as anyone else. the typical conversation goes a bit like this:
random guy: hi, saw your profile. how are you?
me: okay, you?
random guy: fine. so what are you up to?
me: relaxing, you?
random guy: same. so what are you into?
me: i thought you said you read my profile?
random guy: oh right. so what are you looking for?
me: thats in my profile too.
random guy: oh. well i just saw your pic and wanted to get to know you better.
me: then you should have actually read the profile...
random guy: so you're single?
me: yeah
random guy: me too. wanna meet?
me (after checking profile, and seeing that random guy is way too old for me, and way too far away): uh... no thanks.
...and so on and so on...
so having phone calls like i've been having the past two nights... is just amazing in comparison. its great :) so i push myself to stay awake as long as i can... just to be able to keep talking that way... cuz it feels SO good to have someone be interested in whats inside my head, instead of just whats inside my jeans.
anyway... its finally late enough that i think i can sneak out of here without too much trouble... maybe i'll be able to get some work done tomorrow... niters ppl!
i feel like i'm wasting my time by showing up for work. and i dont like wasting my time.
so i went cruising the blog-verse, checking up on some blogs that i hadn't read in a long time, and came across one that really put me in a sad mood. a guy, spilling his heart out, about his failing marriage, and all the things he's doing to try and save it, but to no avail.
blah. damn me for reading it. now i feel even WORSE. *sigh*
when i get home, i am taking a long LONG bubble bath, and relaxing. i dont think my normal commute home to decompress is gonna work today... no matter how loud i turn up the metal.
plus i'm tired... i really need to get more sleep... but for the past two nights, i've been up late on the phone... because i really didnt wanna hang up... and i dont regret it either. its been a long time since i've had conversations like those... long, drawn out, in depth, who are you really, kind of conversations... laughing, teasing, goofing around, make you feel good about yourself, kind of conversations too... wish you could stay awake for days on end just so you didnt have to stop talking conversations... i'd forgotten how nice that is. hell, i'd forgotten those kinds of conversations even existed... hopefully i get to have another one tonite... tho, i do worry that i'll run out of things to say eventually... and well... that would just suck.
i mean... most of the conversations i've had lately are more like job interviews than anything else... and in a way, they were. people looking for relationships, and not having the time or energy to mess around with small talk, tend to be rather to the point in their conversations. i'm as guilty of it as anyone else. the typical conversation goes a bit like this:
random guy: hi, saw your profile. how are you?
me: okay, you?
random guy: fine. so what are you up to?
me: relaxing, you?
random guy: same. so what are you into?
me: i thought you said you read my profile?
random guy: oh right. so what are you looking for?
me: thats in my profile too.
random guy: oh. well i just saw your pic and wanted to get to know you better.
me: then you should have actually read the profile...
random guy: so you're single?
me: yeah
random guy: me too. wanna meet?
me (after checking profile, and seeing that random guy is way too old for me, and way too far away): uh... no thanks.
...and so on and so on...
so having phone calls like i've been having the past two nights... is just amazing in comparison. its great :) so i push myself to stay awake as long as i can... just to be able to keep talking that way... cuz it feels SO good to have someone be interested in whats inside my head, instead of just whats inside my jeans.
anyway... its finally late enough that i think i can sneak out of here without too much trouble... maybe i'll be able to get some work done tomorrow... niters ppl!
Not Allowed To Work
yes, you read that right. i am not allowed to work today.
this is hilarious actually... and i'm welcoming the break... but its still insanely stupid...
so my department is being restructured, and merged into a new organization. fine, fine, all well and good right? wrong. there have been a myriad of managerial mishaps [oooh that sounds cool... on a purely phonetic basis that is] along the way. for example -- not having job descriptions for new positions until after they've started the interview process. not having office space for new positions, but hiring them anyway. firing 1/3 the accounting staff [which were already each doing the jobs of two people] and refusing to hire replacements until AFTER the restructuring has been finished. and my latest favorite... [get this shit... omg its priceless]
transitioning the accounting system into the new organization, barring the accounting staff from having access because... [get this...] we're not technically part of the new organization yet. [ummmmmm yeah. that was smart, dontcha think??]
so now, i am literally unable to do my job. very very literally. i cant run financial reports. and if i cant run financial reports... i cant do anything else. because what i can do, is based purely on those financial reports! wow. so yeah. no one knows when this is going to get fixed...
and i swear to god... if they tell me "not until we've transitioned the accounting staff into the new organization and their new job descriptions" one more time, i am going to walk off the job. theres really only so much i can be expected to take you know? they're already asking me to do the work of 3 people... but now they're asking me to do the work of 3 people, without access to any of the things i need to do that work. [ummmm ooooooooookay... yeah. thats so gonna happen. NOT. ]
but yeah. so now i get to sit here on my ass and goof off all day... only stopping to answer my phone and say "i'm sorry, i can't do that for you right now because management has barred me from doing my job" and answer emails saying "i really wish i could help you out with that, but management has barred me from doing my job indefinitely. i'll get back to you when they're done fucking around." hahahahaha i'm so evil sometimes. [i really wouldnt say anything quite so crude in a work email... but a girl can fantasize cant she? *wink wink*]
so far, to make use of my time, i went and applied for 7 [yes SEVEN] jobs using that great cover letter that Melissa helped me out with... and then i started goofing off.
i wish it would hurry up and be tomorrow already... i've something i'm doing that i'm really really looking forward to... but i'm not gonna go into detail bout that, cuz the person i'm doing it with might be reading... hehe. [you know who you are]
so yeah... i'm bored shitless over here... wishing i could go home already... so it would be tomorrow sooner... and i could go have some fun :D i guess i'll go waste some time on Tribe... hopefully something interesting is going on over there. [cuz there sure as hell isnt anything interesting happening over here!!]
this is hilarious actually... and i'm welcoming the break... but its still insanely stupid...
so my department is being restructured, and merged into a new organization. fine, fine, all well and good right? wrong. there have been a myriad of managerial mishaps [oooh that sounds cool... on a purely phonetic basis that is] along the way. for example -- not having job descriptions for new positions until after they've started the interview process. not having office space for new positions, but hiring them anyway. firing 1/3 the accounting staff [which were already each doing the jobs of two people] and refusing to hire replacements until AFTER the restructuring has been finished. and my latest favorite... [get this shit... omg its priceless]
transitioning the accounting system into the new organization, barring the accounting staff from having access because... [get this...] we're not technically part of the new organization yet. [ummmmmm yeah. that was smart, dontcha think??]
so now, i am literally unable to do my job. very very literally. i cant run financial reports. and if i cant run financial reports... i cant do anything else. because what i can do, is based purely on those financial reports! wow. so yeah. no one knows when this is going to get fixed...
and i swear to god... if they tell me "not until we've transitioned the accounting staff into the new organization and their new job descriptions" one more time, i am going to walk off the job. theres really only so much i can be expected to take you know? they're already asking me to do the work of 3 people... but now they're asking me to do the work of 3 people, without access to any of the things i need to do that work. [ummmm ooooooooookay... yeah. thats so gonna happen. NOT. ]
but yeah. so now i get to sit here on my ass and goof off all day... only stopping to answer my phone and say "i'm sorry, i can't do that for you right now because management has barred me from doing my job" and answer emails saying "i really wish i could help you out with that, but management has barred me from doing my job indefinitely. i'll get back to you when they're done fucking around." hahahahaha i'm so evil sometimes. [i really wouldnt say anything quite so crude in a work email... but a girl can fantasize cant she? *wink wink*]
so far, to make use of my time, i went and applied for 7 [yes SEVEN] jobs using that great cover letter that Melissa helped me out with... and then i started goofing off.
i wish it would hurry up and be tomorrow already... i've something i'm doing that i'm really really looking forward to... but i'm not gonna go into detail bout that, cuz the person i'm doing it with might be reading... hehe. [you know who you are]
so yeah... i'm bored shitless over here... wishing i could go home already... so it would be tomorrow sooner... and i could go have some fun :D i guess i'll go waste some time on Tribe... hopefully something interesting is going on over there. [cuz there sure as hell isnt anything interesting happening over here!!]
Dear Melissa...
I was thinking, that since Melissa was so kind to help me out with my resume cover letter... perhaps an advice column is in order...
kidding, kidding.
I really appreciate the advice I got, and it probably landed me a new job with a bigger paycheck.
I hope a percentage isnt expected in return!! lol.
Seriously... Thank you Melissa!
Oh yeah... check out her blog too... its damned good!
kidding, kidding.
I really appreciate the advice I got, and it probably landed me a new job with a bigger paycheck.
I hope a percentage isnt expected in return!! lol.
Seriously... Thank you Melissa!
Oh yeah... check out her blog too... its damned good!
Monday, August 01, 2005
Death By Cover Letter
yeah, the title of this post pretty much sums it up. i hate writing cover letters. i hate having to try and sell myself, as if i'm a used fiat needing an owner. not to mention, i'm extremely BAD at writing cover letters. i never know what the fuck to say. it always ends up sounding so fake... like... fuck, i dont even know.
yes. i'm frustrated.
i've been trying to write this damned cover letter for weeks. WEEKS. and i havent gotten past the "to whom it may concern." i want to scream. i want to cry. hell, i have cried, and probably will again. i dont know why this is so hard for me. i really dont.
why do i make these things into such a big deal anyway? its just a stupid letter... why get all upset over it? well...
the thing is, i'm not upset that i have to write the letter. i'm upset that me, the writer, ms. eloquence herself, is at a complete loss for words. when the hell am i EVER at a loss for words? NEVER. i can always write something. always. but write a cover letter? i lose all ability to articulate.
does anyone else have this problem? or is it just me? I mean... could someone write this damned thing FOR me please??? cuz i cant do it. i just cant. i stare at the computer screen, and the emptyness of the page haunts me.
"to whom it may concern:
i cant write cover letters for shit, so here's a list of the things i'm good at. and dont ask me why i wanna work for your damned company, because really, i'm just looking for a bigger paycheck than the one i'm currently getting, and i dont care where it comes from.
thanks,
ms. eloquence herself
enclosure: list of things i'm good at -- aka, my resume"
do you think that would fly? probably not right? especially with the profanity in there huh? yeah i thought not... oh well.
seriously tho... anyone who's good at this... anyone who knows how to write a decent cover letter thats halfway generic (i'm applying for multiple positions within the same organization), yet still specific enough that it doesnt seem like a form letter... ANYONE. please.
HELP ME.
yes. i'm frustrated.
i've been trying to write this damned cover letter for weeks. WEEKS. and i havent gotten past the "to whom it may concern." i want to scream. i want to cry. hell, i have cried, and probably will again. i dont know why this is so hard for me. i really dont.
why do i make these things into such a big deal anyway? its just a stupid letter... why get all upset over it? well...
the thing is, i'm not upset that i have to write the letter. i'm upset that me, the writer, ms. eloquence herself, is at a complete loss for words. when the hell am i EVER at a loss for words? NEVER. i can always write something. always. but write a cover letter? i lose all ability to articulate.
does anyone else have this problem? or is it just me? I mean... could someone write this damned thing FOR me please??? cuz i cant do it. i just cant. i stare at the computer screen, and the emptyness of the page haunts me.
"to whom it may concern:
i cant write cover letters for shit, so here's a list of the things i'm good at. and dont ask me why i wanna work for your damned company, because really, i'm just looking for a bigger paycheck than the one i'm currently getting, and i dont care where it comes from.
thanks,
ms. eloquence herself
enclosure: list of things i'm good at -- aka, my resume"
do you think that would fly? probably not right? especially with the profanity in there huh? yeah i thought not... oh well.
seriously tho... anyone who's good at this... anyone who knows how to write a decent cover letter thats halfway generic (i'm applying for multiple positions within the same organization), yet still specific enough that it doesnt seem like a form letter... ANYONE. please.
HELP ME.
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