Ever met someone who actually likes their job? I mean, putting aside the fact that they make me wear non-pajamas and leave my house in order to earn a paycheck, this gig I have, well, dare I say, I care about what I do? How many people can say this? I realized I felt this way, just now, and it made me want to dance.
There are a lot of things not-quite-right with me at the moment, but I'm working on not dwelling on that. Not saying it's going well--you know how I love a good woe-is-me session--but I'm working on it. So for now I'm going to focus on the fact that I love my job.
In September, I will have been here FOUR YEARS, copywriting and editing the shit out of things and getting paid for it. That's the longest I've worked anywhere. Look at me, being a grown up!
What's your favorite "happy dance" song?
*smooches...white-girl dancing all over your computer*
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I don't drink anymore, but if I did, I'd demand this song at a dive bar tonight while throwing back a few cold ones!
Showing posts with label Jobs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jobs. Show all posts
Thursday, April 24, 2014
Friday, August 16, 2013
We Will Always Share, Nuh Care How Meager The Meal
When I decided to become a writer, I knew that my life would not include traveling down the easy road. I knew that I would not be swimming in money. I knew that the arts is something you undertake for the sake of the arts. And I'm OK with all of that.
This life, however, can wear people out, especially for the unlucky ones who have to wonder where their next paycheck is coming from. And yes, it's PURE LUCK that a writing position opened in a marketing department at a non-profit I believe in and is very close to home so that my commute doesn't involve the annoying yuppies of Park Slope. So much luck was involved, especially because this job helps me grow as a writer AND allows me the freedom to still work on my personal projects on the side.
Around me, though, are those who haven't found that balance of a job that pays the bills and also nourishes them. I think this helps fuel me in my endeavors, though, because I know there are a slew of talented and amazing people that would be perfect additions to The Jaded Empire, now that I'm actively working toward making that dream a reality.
Please believe that those who've been down with me from jump have a home with me, and if not, I'm here to help you find your calling if you need me to. Because what fun will it be to live my dream if my homies are still mired in muck? No sir! As I lift myself up, I'm gonna work to keep y'all uplifted! I mean, y'all have to put in work, too, but this is war, son, and I don't leave anyone behind (unless, you know, it's PMS Week and you've pissed me off...).
Most importantly, get those positive vibes and energies flowing. Yesterday's mistakes are yesterday's mistakes. You wake up every day with the chance to make it right.
I hear the brighter side of life is just more fun and productive, you know?
*smooches...wishing you a life with no moss*
-----------
now, go forth and prosper over the weekend!
This life, however, can wear people out, especially for the unlucky ones who have to wonder where their next paycheck is coming from. And yes, it's PURE LUCK that a writing position opened in a marketing department at a non-profit I believe in and is very close to home so that my commute doesn't involve the annoying yuppies of Park Slope. So much luck was involved, especially because this job helps me grow as a writer AND allows me the freedom to still work on my personal projects on the side.
Around me, though, are those who haven't found that balance of a job that pays the bills and also nourishes them. I think this helps fuel me in my endeavors, though, because I know there are a slew of talented and amazing people that would be perfect additions to The Jaded Empire, now that I'm actively working toward making that dream a reality.
Please believe that those who've been down with me from jump have a home with me, and if not, I'm here to help you find your calling if you need me to. Because what fun will it be to live my dream if my homies are still mired in muck? No sir! As I lift myself up, I'm gonna work to keep y'all uplifted! I mean, y'all have to put in work, too, but this is war, son, and I don't leave anyone behind (unless, you know, it's PMS Week and you've pissed me off...).
Most importantly, get those positive vibes and energies flowing. Yesterday's mistakes are yesterday's mistakes. You wake up every day with the chance to make it right.
I hear the brighter side of life is just more fun and productive, you know?
*smooches...wishing you a life with no moss*
-----------
now, go forth and prosper over the weekend!
Tuesday, May 14, 2013
Shop Talk
Just so you know, I'm surrounded by ain't-shit people everywhere I go.
Co-Worker: Should I schedule my OB/GYN appointment for my birthday?
ME: Why not? It's your vagina's birthday, too.
Co-Worker: True...
This won't require sensitivity training from HR, right?
*smooches...showing you why my job is awesome*
----------
the conversations we have here...man...listen...
Co-Worker: Should I schedule my OB/GYN appointment for my birthday?
ME: Why not? It's your vagina's birthday, too.
Co-Worker: True...
This won't require sensitivity training from HR, right?
*smooches...showing you why my job is awesome*
----------
the conversations we have here...man...listen...
Friday, May 03, 2013
You Got To Know Your Role In This Living Masquerade
Okay, so listen. No matter where you work or who is in charge, there will exist a situation where someone else fucks up and leaves you with a mountain of shit to scoop. It happens all the time. None of us will be left untouched by this phenomenon. It. Will. Happen. And when this goes down, you're going to want to whine about it, and complain, and place blame on the fuck-ups and tell the world how terrible they are and how burdened you've become with having to play fix-it to their faux pas. You will want to tell everyone within a flung-cat's distance about your woes in order to gain more allies in your "Woe Is Me" campaign. I know because I've done it.
But you know what I've learned since being at my current job (almost THREE WHOLE YEARS NOW, BITCHEZZZ!) and having to work with the KING of all complainers? Sometimes, in order to get the job done, you've just got to shut the fuck up and suck it the fuck up. Plain and simple.
Nobody likes cleaning other people's mess, but standing around complaining isn't going to make the mess go away. You have to face the situation from whatever the starting point is and MOVE FORWARD. Get the job done. Later, we can sit at the conference table and have a post-mortem about who fucked up and what is the best way to avoid that in the future. Or if it can't be avoided and the perpetual fuck-up can't be replaced, how to best anticipate their sloppiness. That's all you can do. OR, you could up and leave.
Me? I've learned to just assess the situation and problem-solve as best I can. I mean, what I look like getting my pressure all up for some shit that's not even important in the grand scheme of things? Every time I'm faced with that I just play mas in my head and push on, and every two weeks I'm handsomely rewarded with enough money to keep a roof over my head and food on my table.
Besides, it's usually the ones who do the most complaining about OTHER PEOPLE'S MISTAKES who fuck up the most. Just saying.
*smooches...wishing folks would just be happy for once*
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and I mean, look, if you're not good under pressure and can't think on your feet, then this ain't the job for you.
But you know what I've learned since being at my current job (almost THREE WHOLE YEARS NOW, BITCHEZZZ!) and having to work with the KING of all complainers? Sometimes, in order to get the job done, you've just got to shut the fuck up and suck it the fuck up. Plain and simple.
Nobody likes cleaning other people's mess, but standing around complaining isn't going to make the mess go away. You have to face the situation from whatever the starting point is and MOVE FORWARD. Get the job done. Later, we can sit at the conference table and have a post-mortem about who fucked up and what is the best way to avoid that in the future. Or if it can't be avoided and the perpetual fuck-up can't be replaced, how to best anticipate their sloppiness. That's all you can do. OR, you could up and leave.
Me? I've learned to just assess the situation and problem-solve as best I can. I mean, what I look like getting my pressure all up for some shit that's not even important in the grand scheme of things? Every time I'm faced with that I just play mas in my head and push on, and every two weeks I'm handsomely rewarded with enough money to keep a roof over my head and food on my table.
Besides, it's usually the ones who do the most complaining about OTHER PEOPLE'S MISTAKES who fuck up the most. Just saying.
*smooches...wishing folks would just be happy for once*
----------
and I mean, look, if you're not good under pressure and can't think on your feet, then this ain't the job for you.
Wednesday, March 13, 2013
The Sun Is Out! A New Day Is Here!
The only way I can ever get stuff done is to make lists--on Post-It notes, in notebooks, via StickyNotes on the desktop computer--everywhere I can I keep a list. Besides all of the things I have written out that needs to be done at the office before I go on vacation:
I have some lofty goals moving into the summer, both wellness- and career-wise, and even a few "fun-itiatives" too, and I don't mind sharing some of them here with you today.
1- Develop a few new short stories. I've been stuck on the same set of tales that I wrote for my stupid non-finished thesis and frankly, all of those characters are getting on my last nerve. It's time to move on.
2- Go three entire months of regular training and workouts: yoga, Pilates, dance and MAYBE a week or two of bootcamp. My doctor's main bit of advice after giving me the herniated disc diagnosis was "build up your core strength to avoid further injury." So that's my new mission in life. After the three months it should be old hat, no? I'll just be in the habit of working out and not have to be told? RIGHT?
3- Get back on that freelance horse. So if you have any leads to PAYING gigs, let a sistah know.
4- Update my wardrobe. For too long now I've been rocking my same old fat clothes, even though I've lost the weight. That's right, I'm walking around town looking schleppy every damn day. I guess I've just gotten to the point where I actually care about looking put together. Not fancy or anything, but it would be nice if my clothes fit me properly.
5- Commit to a paleo/primal life. For real. I've been floundering and letting a few setbacks stop me from eating clean all the time. This needs to stop. This will stop. I like my doctor but I'm not fitna put her child through college with my co-pays!
On this beautiful ALMOST spring day, what is on your LIFE TO DO list?
*smooches...longing to frolic in the sun*
---------
I get like this every spring; LONG LIVE THE SUN!
 |
| In case you thought I did SHIT ALL during the day |
I have some lofty goals moving into the summer, both wellness- and career-wise, and even a few "fun-itiatives" too, and I don't mind sharing some of them here with you today.
1- Develop a few new short stories. I've been stuck on the same set of tales that I wrote for my stupid non-finished thesis and frankly, all of those characters are getting on my last nerve. It's time to move on.
2- Go three entire months of regular training and workouts: yoga, Pilates, dance and MAYBE a week or two of bootcamp. My doctor's main bit of advice after giving me the herniated disc diagnosis was "build up your core strength to avoid further injury." So that's my new mission in life. After the three months it should be old hat, no? I'll just be in the habit of working out and not have to be told? RIGHT?
3- Get back on that freelance horse. So if you have any leads to PAYING gigs, let a sistah know.
4- Update my wardrobe. For too long now I've been rocking my same old fat clothes, even though I've lost the weight. That's right, I'm walking around town looking schleppy every damn day. I guess I've just gotten to the point where I actually care about looking put together. Not fancy or anything, but it would be nice if my clothes fit me properly.
5- Commit to a paleo/primal life. For real. I've been floundering and letting a few setbacks stop me from eating clean all the time. This needs to stop. This will stop. I like my doctor but I'm not fitna put her child through college with my co-pays!
On this beautiful ALMOST spring day, what is on your LIFE TO DO list?
*smooches...longing to frolic in the sun*
---------
I get like this every spring; LONG LIVE THE SUN!
Friday, February 22, 2013
I'm Gonna Tell Everyone To Lighten Up
A couple of weeks ago, there was a bit of a "blow up" in one of my meetings at work. Seems everything is not very copacetic in our sister department, and I had to be the unfortunate witness to their unraveling. When I tell you I wanted to crawl into the bushes and disappear...
My boss called me and my coworker into the office to ask what happened and since I was the only one present during World War III, I had to relay all the ugliness I tried to swallow down into that quiet place in my soul where I hide bad things, like my urge to punch people in the face and be mean and such. I almost didn't survive it. And it was all so dumb because listen- our job is pretty great. At least I think so. I mean, maybe it's only great for me?
I don't know, but on my side of the third floor annex, we're chill and we get along and our work gets done without too many bumps in the road. We communicate, share ideas, help each other out and cheer each other on.
OK look, it's not the bestest most amazingest job ever, but it's pretty freakin' cool compared to places I've worked before: Waco School for Girls, the Basement, Married to That Guy. This job rocks and I'm thankful for it. I do my best. I enjoy my coworkers. I rarely miss any days (and I used to be famous for taking sick days if I felt my socks were looking at me funny!) and I care about the work we do. I know I won't be doing this forever because I have bigger plans for my life, but I hope to be working here for a very long time.
And anytime it gets too rough or crazy or annoying, I just take a step back, breathe in and regroup. As long as the sun is out (even if it's hiding behind a cloud) and I'm alive to see it, it's a fucking good time.
*smooches...wishing you a laid back, Cali-style weekend*
---------
ignore all reports of rain; make your own sunshine!
My boss called me and my coworker into the office to ask what happened and since I was the only one present during World War III, I had to relay all the ugliness I tried to swallow down into that quiet place in my soul where I hide bad things, like my urge to punch people in the face and be mean and such. I almost didn't survive it. And it was all so dumb because listen- our job is pretty great. At least I think so. I mean, maybe it's only great for me?I don't know, but on my side of the third floor annex, we're chill and we get along and our work gets done without too many bumps in the road. We communicate, share ideas, help each other out and cheer each other on.
OK look, it's not the bestest most amazingest job ever, but it's pretty freakin' cool compared to places I've worked before: Waco School for Girls, the Basement, Married to That Guy. This job rocks and I'm thankful for it. I do my best. I enjoy my coworkers. I rarely miss any days (and I used to be famous for taking sick days if I felt my socks were looking at me funny!) and I care about the work we do. I know I won't be doing this forever because I have bigger plans for my life, but I hope to be working here for a very long time.
And anytime it gets too rough or crazy or annoying, I just take a step back, breathe in and regroup. As long as the sun is out (even if it's hiding behind a cloud) and I'm alive to see it, it's a fucking good time.
*smooches...wishing you a laid back, Cali-style weekend*
---------
ignore all reports of rain; make your own sunshine!
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
Good.
It's about 10 minutes before this day is supposed to be done, this 12.12.12 that everyone was making such a huge deal about. I didn't feel any different today, though, but I can tell you that:
1- I got my period, rather quietly, and I'm wondering if the cramps are planning to attack me tomorrow or Friday, or if my uterus has finally noticed the white flag I've been waving since 1986.
2- I pitched an idea for this summer campaign at work and the client liked it and it's a go. I have my first "creative" meeting to flesh out the concept on Friday. This is it, folks; this is where I show the good people I work with just what I'm made of.
3- The IT department at work threw the kickin-est holiday party ever! I mean food, XBox, karaoke, live band- EVERYTHING! I must get them a very nice thank you token; perhaps some of this new batch of coquito that I plan to conquer.
4- Our new "standing desk" was installed today- WOOHOO! Never again will I have to suffer an entire day in the office SITTING. I can alleviate my back, calves and make sure my blood is circulating and still get work done. Standing desk for the mother-fucking WIN!
5- I watched "Hart of Dixie" this morning and SPOILER ALERT: Wade & Zoe are an actual couple now. YAY!!!!! Now, let's hope the writers don't fuck it up...
It's rare that my day rock so awesomely, especially when I didn't even want to get out of bed this morning. Maybe the 12s were working for me after all.
*smooches...hoping all of your days are memorable*
---------
what did you do today?
1- I got my period, rather quietly, and I'm wondering if the cramps are planning to attack me tomorrow or Friday, or if my uterus has finally noticed the white flag I've been waving since 1986.
2- I pitched an idea for this summer campaign at work and the client liked it and it's a go. I have my first "creative" meeting to flesh out the concept on Friday. This is it, folks; this is where I show the good people I work with just what I'm made of.
3- The IT department at work threw the kickin-est holiday party ever! I mean food, XBox, karaoke, live band- EVERYTHING! I must get them a very nice thank you token; perhaps some of this new batch of coquito that I plan to conquer.
4- Our new "standing desk" was installed today- WOOHOO! Never again will I have to suffer an entire day in the office SITTING. I can alleviate my back, calves and make sure my blood is circulating and still get work done. Standing desk for the mother-fucking WIN!
5- I watched "Hart of Dixie" this morning and SPOILER ALERT: Wade & Zoe are an actual couple now. YAY!!!!! Now, let's hope the writers don't fuck it up...
It's rare that my day rock so awesomely, especially when I didn't even want to get out of bed this morning. Maybe the 12s were working for me after all.
*smooches...hoping all of your days are memorable*
---------
what did you do today?
Friday, March 16, 2012
This Brand Means______
Recently I sat in on a little presentation by AIGA/NY on in-house branding and marketing teams (of which I'm a part of at work). Not something you'd think I'd be into, huh? Well, when offered the opportunity to attend, two thoughts crossed my mind:
1- I really like my job, and anything I can do or learn to be a real contribution and asset to the organization is more than welcome on my TO DO list.
and
2- This blog, and everything I do under the Jaded Empire umbrella, is my brand, so it would serve me well to run it as best I can.
While the panelists- Jeffrey Keyton of MTV, Sandra Monteparo of Victoria's Secret Beauty, and Steve Rura from Google Creative Labs- discussed how their in-house teams work their magic, I sat there and applied what I could to me, my job and my blog. Things that came up included staying fresh in the consumers' eyes, avoiding burnout and what it takes to run a successful team. It was especially timely as I prepared to embark on yet another professional endeavor (that I'll share with you all soon).
All the while I also had in mind a few tweets I'd received lately, tweets that associated my Jaded brand with machetes, speaking Spanish and being angry all the time. Is that what my name makes people think of? For realzz?? I'm not sure that's all I want to be known for. I mean, sure, I'd like you to know that I would not hesitate to take your life if you come at me, but I don't want it to be the only thing you know me for. Maybe it's time to reevaluate the message I'm putting out into the web-o-sphere.
So you guys tell me- when you think of The Jaded NYer, besides envying my total existence and/or lusting after me something awful, what images and concepts are conjured up in your mind's eye? Leave it in the comments!
*smooches...actually seeking feedback*
-----------
'cause y'all know usually I give nan a rat's ass what y'all have to say...lol!
1- I really like my job, and anything I can do or learn to be a real contribution and asset to the organization is more than welcome on my TO DO list.
and
2- This blog, and everything I do under the Jaded Empire umbrella, is my brand, so it would serve me well to run it as best I can.
While the panelists- Jeffrey Keyton of MTV, Sandra Monteparo of Victoria's Secret Beauty, and Steve Rura from Google Creative Labs- discussed how their in-house teams work their magic, I sat there and applied what I could to me, my job and my blog. Things that came up included staying fresh in the consumers' eyes, avoiding burnout and what it takes to run a successful team. It was especially timely as I prepared to embark on yet another professional endeavor (that I'll share with you all soon).
All the while I also had in mind a few tweets I'd received lately, tweets that associated my Jaded brand with machetes, speaking Spanish and being angry all the time. Is that what my name makes people think of? For realzz?? I'm not sure that's all I want to be known for. I mean, sure, I'd like you to know that I would not hesitate to take your life if you come at me, but I don't want it to be the only thing you know me for. Maybe it's time to reevaluate the message I'm putting out into the web-o-sphere.
So you guys tell me- when you think of The Jaded NYer, besides envying my total existence and/or lusting after me something awful, what images and concepts are conjured up in your mind's eye? Leave it in the comments!
*smooches...actually seeking feedback*
-----------
'cause y'all know usually I give nan a rat's ass what y'all have to say...lol!
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
A Jaded Moment In History Presents: The Summer of 1994
I did not have a successful freshman year of college at AU- I was dead broke, had poor study habits and did not take my assignments seriously. Oh, I had a grand ol' time with my friends and whatnot, but scholastically my first year at school was a bust. So much so that I flunked out and had to appeal my case to get back in. Just SHAMEFUL. But once I got everything under control at school, I eased into the last, super-fun summer of my life.
We lived in Hamburg, New York, a suburb of Buffalo, in an apartment complex with a swimming pool in the courtyard. HOLLA! I got a job working the closing shift at our local McDonald's (7PM to sometimes 3AM) which left me with more than enough time to chill by the pool daily. And chill I did! My schedule was all:
Get to work by 6:50PM. Prep my station (usually the drive-thru window) and work it til closing. After closing, clean the shit out of that place, including bathrooms, refreshing the fry grease and scrubbing down the grills. Let me tell you- the food may be nasty at McDonald's but at the Hamburg location, while I was working there, we kept that place clean as a whistle. No nook was overlooked. Believe that!
Get home between two and three in the morning, eat dinner. Yes, dinner. My stepdad would usually leave me a plate on the stove or in the microwave for "dinner" and I'd devour that while watching MTV until maybe 5:00 or 6:00 AM.
Sleep until noon-ish. Ahhh, the good life.
Wake up and order pizza and wings for me and Mari from Blasdell Pizza in time for "Days of Our Lives" at 1PM. Watch "Days" covered in wing sauce and blue cheese. Rest into the itis.
Eventually go to the pool and work off some of the pizza and wings. Stay until almost 4:00 or 5:00 PM and then head back to shower and change for work.
Repeat.
If I had a time machine, I'd absolutely set it for May, 1994 and never look back.
*smooches...reliving a slice of heavenly past*
------------
it was all downhill from there, man SMH!
We lived in Hamburg, New York, a suburb of Buffalo, in an apartment complex with a swimming pool in the courtyard. HOLLA! I got a job working the closing shift at our local McDonald's (7PM to sometimes 3AM) which left me with more than enough time to chill by the pool daily. And chill I did! My schedule was all:Get to work by 6:50PM. Prep my station (usually the drive-thru window) and work it til closing. After closing, clean the shit out of that place, including bathrooms, refreshing the fry grease and scrubbing down the grills. Let me tell you- the food may be nasty at McDonald's but at the Hamburg location, while I was working there, we kept that place clean as a whistle. No nook was overlooked. Believe that!
Get home between two and three in the morning, eat dinner. Yes, dinner. My stepdad would usually leave me a plate on the stove or in the microwave for "dinner" and I'd devour that while watching MTV until maybe 5:00 or 6:00 AM.Sleep until noon-ish. Ahhh, the good life.
Wake up and order pizza and wings for me and Mari from Blasdell Pizza in time for "Days of Our Lives" at 1PM. Watch "Days" covered in wing sauce and blue cheese. Rest into the itis.
Eventually go to the pool and work off some of the pizza and wings. Stay until almost 4:00 or 5:00 PM and then head back to shower and change for work.Repeat.
If I had a time machine, I'd absolutely set it for May, 1994 and never look back.
*smooches...reliving a slice of heavenly past*
------------
it was all downhill from there, man SMH!
Thursday, November 17, 2011
I Am A Writer. And I'm OK With That.
Last week Bangs and a Bun posted a blog posing the question "Are you who you are or what you do?" It basically touched on defining yourself by your job and if that's good or bad. I think I've summed it up accurately. Just click the link and go read it for yourself.
When I got to the comments I noticed all the readers who left their two cents before me were all sort of apologizing for what they do. Maybe not apologizing, but rather writing things like "sometimes I hate to tell people what I do because of the assumptions" blah blah blah and I was a bit surprised that so many grown folks are going around feeling ashamed of their occupation.
I mean, unless your job is breaking into nurseries and stealing the still-beating heart of a baby and its mother, I don't see what there is to be ashamed of. Perhaps these women (I think they were all women) were confusing shame with dislike? Honestly if you are working a legit job- whether it be flipping burgers or teaching sixth-grade math- shame should never come into play. You're earning a living, helping to support yourself, instead of trying to mooch off of your parents or doing something illegal. Stand TALL! You may not like your job, but there's nothing shameful about earning an honest wage. Maybe you wish you had something more prestigious or higher-paying but again, there's nothing shameful about it.
I come from the kind of stock that considers you a winner if you're working. Plain and simple. If you're handling your business then you're A-OK. I've never been asked what I do by family members but only IF I'm working. That question would come eventually but it was never first. I was never ashamed of answering phones or filing papers or mopping floors or shelving books because it was all just a means to an end. I'm proud of every job I've ever had. Even that one job I can't talk about because I signed that non-disclosure contract and if I told you I'd have to kill you. Especially that one. So perhaps it's a cultural thing?
Or maybe my situation is unique because my occupation really is who I am. I'm a writer "for play and pay" as stated in my author bio. I create stories for a living- factual and fictional. I bring to life random letters of the alphabet and someone sees fit to pay me for it.
And in return I get to see my creations reach hundreds if not thousands of people. See that sentence you just read? That was one of my babies. I call her Melly. Say hi!
*smooches...sending out cyber hugs to remove your shame*
------------
here; I'll even shimmy for you a little bit...
When I got to the comments I noticed all the readers who left their two cents before me were all sort of apologizing for what they do. Maybe not apologizing, but rather writing things like "sometimes I hate to tell people what I do because of the assumptions" blah blah blah and I was a bit surprised that so many grown folks are going around feeling ashamed of their occupation.
I mean, unless your job is breaking into nurseries and stealing the still-beating heart of a baby and its mother, I don't see what there is to be ashamed of. Perhaps these women (I think they were all women) were confusing shame with dislike? Honestly if you are working a legit job- whether it be flipping burgers or teaching sixth-grade math- shame should never come into play. You're earning a living, helping to support yourself, instead of trying to mooch off of your parents or doing something illegal. Stand TALL! You may not like your job, but there's nothing shameful about earning an honest wage. Maybe you wish you had something more prestigious or higher-paying but again, there's nothing shameful about it.
I come from the kind of stock that considers you a winner if you're working. Plain and simple. If you're handling your business then you're A-OK. I've never been asked what I do by family members but only IF I'm working. That question would come eventually but it was never first. I was never ashamed of answering phones or filing papers or mopping floors or shelving books because it was all just a means to an end. I'm proud of every job I've ever had. Even that one job I can't talk about because I signed that non-disclosure contract and if I told you I'd have to kill you. Especially that one. So perhaps it's a cultural thing?
Or maybe my situation is unique because my occupation really is who I am. I'm a writer "for play and pay" as stated in my author bio. I create stories for a living- factual and fictional. I bring to life random letters of the alphabet and someone sees fit to pay me for it.
And in return I get to see my creations reach hundreds if not thousands of people. See that sentence you just read? That was one of my babies. I call her Melly. Say hi!
*smooches...sending out cyber hugs to remove your shame*
------------
here; I'll even shimmy for you a little bit...
Thursday, August 11, 2011
With Benefits
Last year, as work began to dry up at the PR firm where I had worked since 2006, I found myself painfully jobless. And amidst the huge pile of ashes from the employment bridges I'd burned I found myself with very little options to keep my fridge stocked and rent paid. Basically, I had to swallow my pride and participate in what I considered to be beneath me- I turned to Uncle Sam and demanded he give me back some of that dough I'd fed into the system since I first started working "on the books" at age 14. That's 20+ years of FICA n shit that motherfucker owed me. So I reluctantly decided to go and try to collect.
I hadn't realize the shitstorm of paperwork, degradation and bureaucracy for which I was in store. But I'll tell you this much- it opened my eyes as to how this government works and doesn't work, capitalism and it's wasteful ways, and the functionality (or lack thereof) of social programs.
Let's not beat around the bush- I applied for temporary cash assistance. I needed help with bills and rent and maybe a little with food, too. Applying for government assistance is not unlike having to undergo a full body cavity search by some really, really mean and bitter Federales. I do believe there was even a question on the form wanting to know when it was that I'd last wiped my ass. Just horribly intrusive.
In that government office, and the many others I had to visit during my six-month stint on welfare, my degrees meant nothing. I was nothing. It was, without a doubt, the hardest thing I've ever had to live through (which, if you think about it, is kind of a blessing!).
But I put up with the bullshit; I ate and cried myself to sleep every night (hence the weight gain I'm currently trying to undo) but I put up with it. I had two little girls at home who needed me to put up with the applications, mistreatment and humiliation so I did it. And when it was over (exactly one year ago) I can't tell you how deeply I exhaled (for those of you familiar with the Pilates exhale, it was pretty much like that).
New York Staffing Services swooped in and saved the day with a long-term temporary assignment that, just last week, turned into a salaried position. And I'm oh-so-thankful for this job. I'm a paid writer, close to home, with the means to be a proper head-of-household for my impressionable daughters. When I first started this gig I thought to myself, "Now I can hold my head up high again." But looking back, I really shouldn't have felt otherwise while on public assistance. I'm PROUD of the fact that I was able to fight through all of that stress and do what I needed to do to keep my tiny family afloat.
Recently, there were simmerings among Negro Twitter about the film "The Help" and its depiction of Black women as domestics, clearly implying this is something to be ashamed of. I say FUCK YOU to all these soapboxers because when it comes down to it, those domestics of the '60s, AND the domestics of today, are only doing what they have to in order to provide for their families. My grandmother did it, my mother did it and I did it. So what? It's not Wall Street but you know what? It paid us in the same green American dollars your snooty ass got paid, and it helped us live.
This experience taught me a valuable lesson about myself: I hate housework and I hate other people's kids even more. But if the thing standing between my babies' full bellies and a cardboard box in the alley was my pride, I'd actually pick up a mop and don an apron for Whitey in a second. Nothing hurts my heart more than to hear my kid say "I'm hungry" without having a way to feed her. It was the first time I'd ever felt truly selfless.
In the end, the fact that I learned to love my kids more and be a better mom helps me trudge forward, because I realize that anything I do for their well-being will never be suffered in vain. No matter how "beneath me" my education tries to convince me it is.
*smooches...finally back in the saddle*
----------
for a quick, good read about this issue with "The Help" click HERE and HERE
I hadn't realize the shitstorm of paperwork, degradation and bureaucracy for which I was in store. But I'll tell you this much- it opened my eyes as to how this government works and doesn't work, capitalism and it's wasteful ways, and the functionality (or lack thereof) of social programs.
Let's not beat around the bush- I applied for temporary cash assistance. I needed help with bills and rent and maybe a little with food, too. Applying for government assistance is not unlike having to undergo a full body cavity search by some really, really mean and bitter Federales. I do believe there was even a question on the form wanting to know when it was that I'd last wiped my ass. Just horribly intrusive.
In that government office, and the many others I had to visit during my six-month stint on welfare, my degrees meant nothing. I was nothing. It was, without a doubt, the hardest thing I've ever had to live through (which, if you think about it, is kind of a blessing!).
But I put up with the bullshit; I ate and cried myself to sleep every night (hence the weight gain I'm currently trying to undo) but I put up with it. I had two little girls at home who needed me to put up with the applications, mistreatment and humiliation so I did it. And when it was over (exactly one year ago) I can't tell you how deeply I exhaled (for those of you familiar with the Pilates exhale, it was pretty much like that).
New York Staffing Services swooped in and saved the day with a long-term temporary assignment that, just last week, turned into a salaried position. And I'm oh-so-thankful for this job. I'm a paid writer, close to home, with the means to be a proper head-of-household for my impressionable daughters. When I first started this gig I thought to myself, "Now I can hold my head up high again." But looking back, I really shouldn't have felt otherwise while on public assistance. I'm PROUD of the fact that I was able to fight through all of that stress and do what I needed to do to keep my tiny family afloat.
Recently, there were simmerings among Negro Twitter about the film "The Help" and its depiction of Black women as domestics, clearly implying this is something to be ashamed of. I say FUCK YOU to all these soapboxers because when it comes down to it, those domestics of the '60s, AND the domestics of today, are only doing what they have to in order to provide for their families. My grandmother did it, my mother did it and I did it. So what? It's not Wall Street but you know what? It paid us in the same green American dollars your snooty ass got paid, and it helped us live.
This experience taught me a valuable lesson about myself: I hate housework and I hate other people's kids even more. But if the thing standing between my babies' full bellies and a cardboard box in the alley was my pride, I'd actually pick up a mop and don an apron for Whitey in a second. Nothing hurts my heart more than to hear my kid say "I'm hungry" without having a way to feed her. It was the first time I'd ever felt truly selfless.
In the end, the fact that I learned to love my kids more and be a better mom helps me trudge forward, because I realize that anything I do for their well-being will never be suffered in vain. No matter how "beneath me" my education tries to convince me it is.
*smooches...finally back in the saddle*
----------
for a quick, good read about this issue with "The Help" click HERE and HERE
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
I'm Worth More Than That
This crappy economy has taught me a valuable lesson in self-worth. It shed some light on something Mami tried to explain to me when I started freelancing, but didn’t notice until I was really starving for funds: Employers really don’t think much of writers. And you can really see evidence of that in the various writing mills around the internet.
Currently, regardless of what people are willing to pay, I am worth a pretty penny on an hourly basis. I mean, not as much as a hooker (those bitches make sooooo much more than I do...got me rethinking my life choices n shit) but still, a good lot o’ dough. These writing mills (Demand Media Studios [although Demand now offers SOME per-hour writing opportunities], Suite101, etc) claim to offer writers great opportunities but if you ask me it’s somewhat of a legal scam.
In my experience the jobs up for grabs on those sites, at most, pay you about $25 per article. Total. At first you think, “Ooh, I can knock out four articles this week and make a cool $100!” Then you realize, had you really itemized the expenses you incurred for writing said article, you end up losing. Besides, I made way more than $100 PER ARTICLE freelancing for Batanga Magazine and PCI Journal. Even working in The Basement paid $100/day, and that was one shitty ass job. How can I afford to take such a huge pay cut?
Even the best writers need at least 3-5 hours to produce a good article. This includes research, fact-checking, interviewing, writing and editing. For argument's sake let’s say you can create a really good piece in five hours...what have you to show for those five hours of your talented time, wear-and-tear on your computer, electricity, internet service, time away from other opportunities or family and friends, maybe even ink and paper if you’re the type that can’t read off of a screen for too long? $25 lousy dollars. That breaks down to $5/hour— LESS than you’d earn in five hours at McDonald’s. WRITING MILLS ARE PAYING YOU LESS THAN MCDONALD’S! If this was Gone-With-The-Wind, Georgia, sure, take the $5 and run. But my name ain't Mammy. You're gonna have to pay me a real, 2010-2011 living wage.
Sure, there’s the argument that some money is better than no money, and in this crippling economic climate we have to take what we can get, but that’s what writing mills are counting on. They hope and pray and KNOW that a lot of us are broke, in debt, young, stupid, starving artists, and are exploiting us. They are telling us we’re worth less than $5/hour. “Fuck your degree, your experience, your connections. Take these seven pennies and get the fuck outta here!” I don’t take too kindly to that kind of disregard for my hard work.
Hookers know what their vaginae and mouths are worth, especially for bareback encounters. Why should us writers settle for less?
*smooches...refusing to compromise*
----------
you let ONE writing mill walk all over you, next thing you know you're working around the clock, producing all this collateral for them and you're still broke. Fuck that!
Currently, regardless of what people are willing to pay, I am worth a pretty penny on an hourly basis. I mean, not as much as a hooker (those bitches make sooooo much more than I do...got me rethinking my life choices n shit) but still, a good lot o’ dough. These writing mills (Demand Media Studios [although Demand now offers SOME per-hour writing opportunities], Suite101, etc) claim to offer writers great opportunities but if you ask me it’s somewhat of a legal scam.
In my experience the jobs up for grabs on those sites, at most, pay you about $25 per article. Total. At first you think, “Ooh, I can knock out four articles this week and make a cool $100!” Then you realize, had you really itemized the expenses you incurred for writing said article, you end up losing. Besides, I made way more than $100 PER ARTICLE freelancing for Batanga Magazine and PCI Journal. Even working in The Basement paid $100/day, and that was one shitty ass job. How can I afford to take such a huge pay cut?
Even the best writers need at least 3-5 hours to produce a good article. This includes research, fact-checking, interviewing, writing and editing. For argument's sake let’s say you can create a really good piece in five hours...what have you to show for those five hours of your talented time, wear-and-tear on your computer, electricity, internet service, time away from other opportunities or family and friends, maybe even ink and paper if you’re the type that can’t read off of a screen for too long? $25 lousy dollars. That breaks down to $5/hour— LESS than you’d earn in five hours at McDonald’s. WRITING MILLS ARE PAYING YOU LESS THAN MCDONALD’S! If this was Gone-With-The-Wind, Georgia, sure, take the $5 and run. But my name ain't Mammy. You're gonna have to pay me a real, 2010-2011 living wage.
Sure, there’s the argument that some money is better than no money, and in this crippling economic climate we have to take what we can get, but that’s what writing mills are counting on. They hope and pray and KNOW that a lot of us are broke, in debt, young, stupid, starving artists, and are exploiting us. They are telling us we’re worth less than $5/hour. “Fuck your degree, your experience, your connections. Take these seven pennies and get the fuck outta here!” I don’t take too kindly to that kind of disregard for my hard work.
Hookers know what their vaginae and mouths are worth, especially for bareback encounters. Why should us writers settle for less?
*smooches...refusing to compromise*
----------
you let ONE writing mill walk all over you, next thing you know you're working around the clock, producing all this collateral for them and you're still broke. Fuck that!
Monday, October 11, 2010
Because Of Work, Work And More Work
*smooches...taking some time to get in sync w/myself*
----------
apparently I've been out of work so long I've forgotten how exhausting that shit is- day in, day out, working on stuff from 9-5 without a nap. God, I need a nap just typing that sentence!
Thursday, September 23, 2010
So I'm Doing This Work Thing Again
At the 25th hour, right when I was going to have to swallow my pride and ask my mom if I could move in with her because my landlord was done being benevolent and understanding about the rent, I managed to snag a temporary gig that, depending on how long it lasts, will keep me afloat until at least Christmas. I hope.
And it's actually a writing/editing gig that so far I'm enjoying. My commute is super easy (it's right here in Brooklyn) and the people are nice and I'm surrounded by literature all day long- it couldn't be more perfect if John Cusack were in the next cubicle!
With this stay of execution, I'm really working hard to not make my usual money mistakes, which means I have to train myself to be miserly and act like every check is my last. Because let's face it- with a temporary gig that is truly possible. The client anticipates this need only to find, "...hmmm, we actually don't need an extra person for that long so thanks for playing and good luck with life."
Initially I was like "YES! Now I can meet my friends at Happy Hours and hang on the weekends and go to Boston..." but thankfully one of The Voices reigned me in and reminded me that this is a TEMPORARY job. So I'm still going to be turning down invites, etc, to things that will cost me money because regardless of the weekly paycheck I will now be getting, I have to hold on to the "I don't have the money to go out like that" mentality. My priority has to be my kids in this scenario. I've done a fair share of partying-- it won't kill me to sit this one out for a bit.
That said, I now find that I need more time in the day for all the Jaded Empire things I've been working on during my unemployment. Or a clone. Or a(n)slave intern. But how do I get one of those? I asked y'all about it once before and no one gave me any ideas or advice. Maybe you thought I was joking? Well, I'm serious: I NEED AN INTERN. How do I go about doing that?
Listen, either help me out or this whole FIVE YEAR PLAN goes straight to shit!
*smooches...too busy to even blog*
----------
can you believe it? I might have to take a break or something...
And it's actually a writing/editing gig that so far I'm enjoying. My commute is super easy (it's right here in Brooklyn) and the people are nice and I'm surrounded by literature all day long- it couldn't be more perfect if John Cusack were in the next cubicle!
With this stay of execution, I'm really working hard to not make my usual money mistakes, which means I have to train myself to be miserly and act like every check is my last. Because let's face it- with a temporary gig that is truly possible. The client anticipates this need only to find, "...hmmm, we actually don't need an extra person for that long so thanks for playing and good luck with life."
Initially I was like "YES! Now I can meet my friends at Happy Hours and hang on the weekends and go to Boston..." but thankfully one of The Voices reigned me in and reminded me that this is a TEMPORARY job. So I'm still going to be turning down invites, etc, to things that will cost me money because regardless of the weekly paycheck I will now be getting, I have to hold on to the "I don't have the money to go out like that" mentality. My priority has to be my kids in this scenario. I've done a fair share of partying-- it won't kill me to sit this one out for a bit.
That said, I now find that I need more time in the day for all the Jaded Empire things I've been working on during my unemployment. Or a clone. Or a(n)
Listen, either help me out or this whole FIVE YEAR PLAN goes straight to shit!
*smooches...too busy to even blog*
----------
can you believe it? I might have to take a break or something...
Friday, September 03, 2010
Just A Writer
People don't realize how powerful their words are sometimes, I swear.
During this whole unemployment ordeal I decided to enlist some professionals to help me find a job, any job, so I can stop robbin' old ladies and makin' a dash. And within a few weeks of each other two separate "professionals" informed me that I'm "just a writer" therefore it will be tough to place me anywhere.
Wow. Really? Thanks for straightening that up, because here I thought I was intelligent, professional, talented and an asset to any company. But no, I'm just a writer. An unpublished, mediocre, no-trade-having, unemployable writer.
*whew*
I'm glad that's settled! Now I can send this application into DeVry and get me some REAL marketable skills. Not these uppity degrees and book learnin', no sir, that's not worth the paper it's printed on. Then I'm gonna grab me that $9.25/hr call center job he was tryna shove down my throat, because that will definitely help me pay my rent, phone, internet, gas, electric, two hungry, growing kids and student loans. YUP.
This "writing" thing was clearly a phase and a waste of time. I should have known by the color of my skin that it wasn't going to take me places, right? I know that's what he wanted to say with his "You're just a writer" statement. I wasn't privileged enough to major in the arts. I should have majored in something tangible like math or business administration, right? Fuck my pen, right? $9.25/hr is where it's at, right?
And I have the AUDACITY to expect more. SMH. What was I thinking???
*smooches...giving myself until Sunday w/this pity party*
----------
and yes, at Smarty's request, the gift bags WILL contain penis. My gift bags always do... #privatejoke
During this whole unemployment ordeal I decided to enlist some professionals to help me find a job, any job, so I can stop robbin' old ladies and makin' a dash. And within a few weeks of each other two separate "professionals" informed me that I'm "just a writer" therefore it will be tough to place me anywhere.
Wow. Really? Thanks for straightening that up, because here I thought I was intelligent, professional, talented and an asset to any company. But no, I'm just a writer. An unpublished, mediocre, no-trade-having, unemployable writer.
*whew*
I'm glad that's settled! Now I can send this application into DeVry and get me some REAL marketable skills. Not these uppity degrees and book learnin', no sir, that's not worth the paper it's printed on. Then I'm gonna grab me that $9.25/hr call center job he was tryna shove down my throat, because that will definitely help me pay my rent, phone, internet, gas, electric, two hungry, growing kids and student loans. YUP.
This "writing" thing was clearly a phase and a waste of time. I should have known by the color of my skin that it wasn't going to take me places, right? I know that's what he wanted to say with his "You're just a writer" statement. I wasn't privileged enough to major in the arts. I should have majored in something tangible like math or business administration, right? Fuck my pen, right? $9.25/hr is where it's at, right?
And I have the AUDACITY to expect more. SMH. What was I thinking???
*smooches...giving myself until Sunday w/this pity party*
----------
and yes, at Smarty's request, the gift bags WILL contain penis. My gift bags always do... #privatejoke
Thursday, August 19, 2010
The Networking Game
This unemployment shit is getting old. Yeah, I have little gigs here and there that pop in sometimes but I have real debt (student loans) and high expenses (Brooklyn rent, SON!!) that require a salary position with benefits n shit.
So I've been trying to turn up the networking dial: reaching out to friends who are employed and asking for referrals, attending different events where I may meet someone with connections and casting a wider net...if I have to get coffee and collate reports then so be it. Just make sure you pay me enough to stay in my apartment, pay all my bills and save up for a rainy day. I don't even know how to make coffee but I will learn and make the best damn coffee you ever tasted. People from neighboring offices will stop by for some coffee I made, watch. All you have to do is hire me.
On Monday, as I rode the train into the city, a man was walking through the train car handing out his business card to people who could help him find someone to teach him origami. As he did so I kept thinking, would that work for a job seeker? What kind of response would I get walking through the train car and, instead of asking for money, I handed out my CV and business card and asked for referrals to lucrative positions? I swear this bleak economy has me strongly considering it.
But I think first I will appeal to you here, on my blog. Basically:
I need a job. Full time or temporary (at least 6mos). I have experience as an administrative assistant, office manager, tutor, teacher (but am not certified...something needed in most NYC schools), program assistant/event planner and of course a writer/editor, for the education, publishing, entertainment/lifestyle magazine and public relations industries. I speak fluent Spanish and my English, well, you already know. I type pretty fast and have a great phone demeanor (aka my White Voice). I'm GREAT at organizing other people's lives and calendars and let's face it, with me sitting up in your office the property value will increase and everything will all of a sudden be more beautiful sunshiny happiness.
What else? Oh, I am self taught and pretty much an expert at MS Office Suite, Adobe Creative Suite and all that crap. I even know some older outdated shit like FileMaker Pro and desktop publishing stuff like Quark Xpress. And believe it or not, as much as I hate computers and they hate me right back, I'm pretty good at troubleshooting IT issues and office problems in general. I'm great with kids and pretty decent with deadlines. And I'm willing to give an employer at least two years of my life, maybe three, while I keep working on The Jaded Empire.
Know anything I'd be good for? Even if it's just a freelance, telecommuting type gig, I'll consider it. Times is hard n shit. Skip the comments, for real, and just straight up email me: rpenzo@thejadednyer.net
First person to hook me up with a job that I actually get will get one item of their choosing from The Jaded Bodega + drinks on me.
*smooches...hoping this works because I really like my apt*
----------
I don't want to move, y'all. my 'hood is so nice and safe and the school district is excellent. I need this job like nobody's business. anything you can send my way...I'm not afraid of hard work!
So I've been trying to turn up the networking dial: reaching out to friends who are employed and asking for referrals, attending different events where I may meet someone with connections and casting a wider net...if I have to get coffee and collate reports then so be it. Just make sure you pay me enough to stay in my apartment, pay all my bills and save up for a rainy day. I don't even know how to make coffee but I will learn and make the best damn coffee you ever tasted. People from neighboring offices will stop by for some coffee I made, watch. All you have to do is hire me.
On Monday, as I rode the train into the city, a man was walking through the train car handing out his business card to people who could help him find someone to teach him origami. As he did so I kept thinking, would that work for a job seeker? What kind of response would I get walking through the train car and, instead of asking for money, I handed out my CV and business card and asked for referrals to lucrative positions? I swear this bleak economy has me strongly considering it.
But I think first I will appeal to you here, on my blog. Basically:
I need a job. Full time or temporary (at least 6mos). I have experience as an administrative assistant, office manager, tutor, teacher (but am not certified...something needed in most NYC schools), program assistant/event planner and of course a writer/editor, for the education, publishing, entertainment/lifestyle magazine and public relations industries. I speak fluent Spanish and my English, well, you already know. I type pretty fast and have a great phone demeanor (aka my White Voice). I'm GREAT at organizing other people's lives and calendars and let's face it, with me sitting up in your office the property value will increase and everything will all of a sudden be more beautiful sunshiny happiness.
What else? Oh, I am self taught and pretty much an expert at MS Office Suite, Adobe Creative Suite and all that crap. I even know some older outdated shit like FileMaker Pro and desktop publishing stuff like Quark Xpress. And believe it or not, as much as I hate computers and they hate me right back, I'm pretty good at troubleshooting IT issues and office problems in general. I'm great with kids and pretty decent with deadlines. And I'm willing to give an employer at least two years of my life, maybe three, while I keep working on The Jaded Empire.
Know anything I'd be good for? Even if it's just a freelance, telecommuting type gig, I'll consider it. Times is hard n shit. Skip the comments, for real, and just straight up email me: rpenzo@thejadednyer.net
First person to hook me up with a job that I actually get will get one item of their choosing from The Jaded Bodega + drinks on me.
*smooches...hoping this works because I really like my apt*
----------
I don't want to move, y'all. my 'hood is so nice and safe and the school district is excellent. I need this job like nobody's business. anything you can send my way...I'm not afraid of hard work!
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
I'm That Student You Were Warned About In Teacher's College
Since my undeserved unemployment began, I've been looking into teaching again- on the grade school, HS and college level- and, well, it's funny that I should keep coming back to the one profession that I really never wanted to pursue. I mean, I do but I don't. Does that make sense? Like, I want to help learners of all ages do better, but I wish there were a little pill I could give them, something called INSTA-SMART, that they could just take once a day for a month and be smart for life. Because remember that the Waco School for Girls and the online teaching gig were disastrous and this current language instruction gig is alright but still...UGH...like I care about the preterite or the future conditional tense? WTF are those things anyway?
I was also reminded of the type of student I was, and wondered what my teachers must have thought of me. I don't mean in grades k-8 because I was an absolute DOLL; I did all my work and earned high marks and never talked back. The only time I ever had detention was for chronic lateness (SURPRISE! SURPRISE!). Well, maybe there was that ONE TIME I tried to get smart in Religion class, only to have Mr. Coughlin shut me down. But that hardly counts. It was Religion class. No one takes that shit seriously.
But once my freshman year of high school was over I started to cross over into the dark side of missing homework assignments, cutting classes and straight up not caring about grades. But to show you what a nerd I was, MY idea of not caring was getting Bs. Senior year, tho? LAWD... however did I manage to graduate?! I'll tell you what- if it wasn't for the fact that I test extremely well, I would have had to repeat a few classes. That's how often I skipped out and disregarded assignments. Once I had that college acceptance letter I basically phoned it in.
How FRUSTRATING it must have been for my teachers! I know for a fact my Civil Engineering teacher, Mr. Peemoeller, was DONE with me. D-O-N-E. Because he told me so on a daily basis. And my wood shop teacher TOLD MY MOM that I was getting the boys in my class to do my work for me. BITCH, WHAT?!?! Talk about HATERRRRRR! And please- in that class where we were using AutoCAD? Pssshhhhhh! My days were pretty much spent torturing the instructor and leaving subliminal messages in hidden layers on others' projects. Muahahahahahahha!
And then college. Let's have a moment of silence for all my potential...
...
...
...
Yeah, in college I went to a few classes, looked over a few books, turned in an assignment here and there, but mostly I napped in the back of the lecture halls and PARTIED like everyday was 1999. And when I say partied, I mean PAR-TEEEEED. Basically I borrowed thousands of thousands of dollars from Uncle Sam to go to keggers and drop acid. FUN TIMES. I can only imagine my professors in the lounge, talking shit. "You have Raquel in your Intro to World Religions class? Well good luck seeing an assignment from THAT one!" smh... I was the WORST!
So I'm looking back at all this and think- am I ready to deal with students like me? Smart kids with the ability to go far who piss it all away for one dumb reason after another? Will I be able to resist the urge to strangle these lazy mofos? Or will I go off on them in the hallway, like Mr. Peemoeller did to me that time he told me I should just skip college because I'm not disciplined enough for it?
I'm almost afraid to get callbacks...
*smooches...wondering if education is really ready for JADED*
----------
or should I just steer clear of other peoples' kids altogether??
I was also reminded of the type of student I was, and wondered what my teachers must have thought of me. I don't mean in grades k-8 because I was an absolute DOLL; I did all my work and earned high marks and never talked back. The only time I ever had detention was for chronic lateness (SURPRISE! SURPRISE!). Well, maybe there was that ONE TIME I tried to get smart in Religion class, only to have Mr. Coughlin shut me down. But that hardly counts. It was Religion class. No one takes that shit seriously.
But once my freshman year of high school was over I started to cross over into the dark side of missing homework assignments, cutting classes and straight up not caring about grades. But to show you what a nerd I was, MY idea of not caring was getting Bs. Senior year, tho? LAWD... however did I manage to graduate?! I'll tell you what- if it wasn't for the fact that I test extremely well, I would have had to repeat a few classes. That's how often I skipped out and disregarded assignments. Once I had that college acceptance letter I basically phoned it in.
How FRUSTRATING it must have been for my teachers! I know for a fact my Civil Engineering teacher, Mr. Peemoeller, was DONE with me. D-O-N-E. Because he told me so on a daily basis. And my wood shop teacher TOLD MY MOM that I was getting the boys in my class to do my work for me. BITCH, WHAT?!?! Talk about HATERRRRRR! And please- in that class where we were using AutoCAD? Pssshhhhhh! My days were pretty much spent torturing the instructor and leaving subliminal messages in hidden layers on others' projects. Muahahahahahahha!
And then college. Let's have a moment of silence for all my potential...
...
...
...
Yeah, in college I went to a few classes, looked over a few books, turned in an assignment here and there, but mostly I napped in the back of the lecture halls and PARTIED like everyday was 1999. And when I say partied, I mean PAR-TEEEEED. Basically I borrowed thousands of thousands of dollars from Uncle Sam to go to keggers and drop acid. FUN TIMES. I can only imagine my professors in the lounge, talking shit. "You have Raquel in your Intro to World Religions class? Well good luck seeing an assignment from THAT one!" smh... I was the WORST!
So I'm looking back at all this and think- am I ready to deal with students like me? Smart kids with the ability to go far who piss it all away for one dumb reason after another? Will I be able to resist the urge to strangle these lazy mofos? Or will I go off on them in the hallway, like Mr. Peemoeller did to me that time he told me I should just skip college because I'm not disciplined enough for it?
I'm almost afraid to get callbacks...
*smooches...wondering if education is really ready for JADED*
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or should I just steer clear of other peoples' kids altogether??
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
September Is Right Around The Corner
This means that Monday Musings will begin again. The babies will be back in school full time. Also, my literary readings for La Pluma y La Tinta are starting up again.
Which of course means schedules will have to be made, promotional materials and marketing plans will have to be put into effect and lots of networking will need to be done. Like NOW.
*looks at busy ass calendar*
So, um, slavery ended, you say? Are you sure? There's no place in NYC where I could get me an educated slave real quick? Preferably one that is web savvy and has exceptional phone skills?
WHAT?! Don't look at me like that! It's not like I was going to make them sleep in a closet, feed them slop and whip them if they end sentences in prepositions. I promise- neither El Generalissimo NOR Lady Estrogen will be in charge of the slave, okay? NOW will you tell me where I can find one???
Because otherwise all of you who are waiting to ride the Jaded Empire Media gravy train will be waiting a loooooonnnnnnggggggg time!
*smooches...totally not joking about that slave thing*
----------
wait- what was that? they're called INTERNS now? OH! well why didn't you say so! Right. so replace the word SLAVE with INTERN in this post, and proceed to find me one. Please and thank you.
Which of course means schedules will have to be made, promotional materials and marketing plans will have to be put into effect and lots of networking will need to be done. Like NOW.
*looks at busy ass calendar*
So, um, slavery ended, you say? Are you sure? There's no place in NYC where I could get me an educated slave real quick? Preferably one that is web savvy and has exceptional phone skills?
WHAT?! Don't look at me like that! It's not like I was going to make them sleep in a closet, feed them slop and whip them if they end sentences in prepositions. I promise- neither El Generalissimo NOR Lady Estrogen will be in charge of the slave, okay? NOW will you tell me where I can find one???
Because otherwise all of you who are waiting to ride the Jaded Empire Media gravy train will be waiting a loooooonnnnnnggggggg time!
*smooches...totally not joking about that slave thing*
----------
wait- what was that? they're called INTERNS now? OH! well why didn't you say so! Right. so replace the word SLAVE with INTERN in this post, and proceed to find me one. Please and thank you.
Tuesday, July 06, 2010
"And We Are Just Breakable, Breakable, Breakable Girls And Boys"
At first I was a bit verklempt at not having written a blog post last night in time for a 12:01am posting, but I'm glad I waited. Instead of feeding you filler I actually have something to share.
Today I participated in an all-day training at the language center where I teach that "certifies" me to work with children ages 4 to 17 both on-site and in schools. Some of you might be a bit shocked to hear that I would volunteer to work with other people's bratty ass kids but, eh, it's cool. The classes are short and (supposedly) fun so I doubt I will have too much trouble with the rugrats. There are puppets and flashcards and songs...yeah, I got this.
But another component we had to be ready for was: discipline. Y'all already know this is my forte. The last thing I will ever tolerate in this life is a child acting a straight fool while in my care. Nope. Not having it. Fuggetaboutit!
During the training, we were given 8 scenarios of behavioral issues in a classroom setting and asked how we'd handle it. You'll be proud to know I didn't answer each one with "Well I'd pull out my travel machete..." Instead I dug deep into my little bit of All Kinds of Mind training and superior child-rearing skills to find real solutions, similar to what I'd do at home except less El Generalissimo and more Super Nanny.
#sidenote: Can someone contact Super Nanny and ask her if she'd like an American apprentice? I love that show to death and am just itching to get my hands on these unruly families! #endnote
And I didn't adjust my responses to appear less mean, I really thought of the bigger picture and how best to handle the situation: I'm there to teach Spanish. This child is getting in the way of that (for whatever reason). I need to find a way to correct the behavior w/out making the other children suffer, humiliating the poorly behaved child and be able to continue my lesson as planned. Luckily, I have one of those geniusly equipped logical minds that loves to solve people problems and had NO issues w/this exercise.
My thing is this- a lot of times, kids misbehave because they are starving for attention. Even negative attention. Some are just antsy and can't help it. Others have some deep psychological problems that even I'm not equipped to handle. Whatever the case, kids are fragile. Yes, even that little bad-ass that kept kicking the back of your seat on the 6hr flight to California. Especially that one. They are fragile and need our guidance, love and understanding more than they need a swift kick in the ass (which I'm more than happy to dole out as needed).
Their lives, hell OUR lives, are nothing more than a series of teachable moments. How would you rather spend it- exerting your power over a small child like a bully or being a positive influence in their lives?
*smooches...fully aware that ass-whoopins are not enough*
-----------
Still, you know I won't hesitate to check a 4yr old, right? Okay. As long as you know...
Today I participated in an all-day training at the language center where I teach that "certifies" me to work with children ages 4 to 17 both on-site and in schools. Some of you might be a bit shocked to hear that I would volunteer to work with other people's bratty ass kids but, eh, it's cool. The classes are short and (supposedly) fun so I doubt I will have too much trouble with the rugrats. There are puppets and flashcards and songs...yeah, I got this.
But another component we had to be ready for was: discipline. Y'all already know this is my forte. The last thing I will ever tolerate in this life is a child acting a straight fool while in my care. Nope. Not having it. Fuggetaboutit!
During the training, we were given 8 scenarios of behavioral issues in a classroom setting and asked how we'd handle it. You'll be proud to know I didn't answer each one with "Well I'd pull out my travel machete..." Instead I dug deep into my little bit of All Kinds of Mind training and superior child-rearing skills to find real solutions, similar to what I'd do at home except less El Generalissimo and more Super Nanny.
#sidenote: Can someone contact Super Nanny and ask her if she'd like an American apprentice? I love that show to death and am just itching to get my hands on these unruly families! #endnote
And I didn't adjust my responses to appear less mean, I really thought of the bigger picture and how best to handle the situation: I'm there to teach Spanish. This child is getting in the way of that (for whatever reason). I need to find a way to correct the behavior w/out making the other children suffer, humiliating the poorly behaved child and be able to continue my lesson as planned. Luckily, I have one of those geniusly equipped logical minds that loves to solve people problems and had NO issues w/this exercise.
My thing is this- a lot of times, kids misbehave because they are starving for attention. Even negative attention. Some are just antsy and can't help it. Others have some deep psychological problems that even I'm not equipped to handle. Whatever the case, kids are fragile. Yes, even that little bad-ass that kept kicking the back of your seat on the 6hr flight to California. Especially that one. They are fragile and need our guidance, love and understanding more than they need a swift kick in the ass (which I'm more than happy to dole out as needed).
Their lives, hell OUR lives, are nothing more than a series of teachable moments. How would you rather spend it- exerting your power over a small child like a bully or being a positive influence in their lives?
*smooches...fully aware that ass-whoopins are not enough*
-----------
Still, you know I won't hesitate to check a 4yr old, right? Okay. As long as you know...
Thursday, April 29, 2010
When All Else Fails
This has been an incredibly crazy/busy/exciting/tiring/[insert more adjectives that mean I had too much on my plate here] week for me. After a while without any real work to do I get slammed with THREE different clients handing me SIX different assignments. I'm forced to work around the clock, work on-site, wear real clothes, brush my hair- you name it.
This, of course, does not include all the things I do that aren't for money: spending time w/my kids, keeping house, maintaining this (and other) sites, personal writing projects, writing workshops and oh yeah, sleep.
Well I'm not used to any of it. It's stressing me out. I'm eating as a result of anxiety instead of hunger. Subsequently, my pants are getting snug again. *sigh* I need a clone.
And I don't mean to complain about any of the good fortune that has fallen on my lap in the last couple of weeks, but it's all happening at once and I wasn't ready for it. I feel like I brought a knife to a gun fight!*
Now we all know I don't put too much stock in religion or the Catholic Church or any of that hubbub, but the one thing I kept from my childhood for when there's TOO MUCH going on that I cannot escape is this:
Although I have to say- I could care less about Serenity and I PISS on courage... all I really want it that damn WISDOM! "Should I go for the job in PA?" "Does he really like me or is this a fling?" "Am I doing the right thing for my girls?" "Is it really a terrible thing to subsist on a diet of Buffalo wings and oatmeal raisin cookies?"
Anyone got any WISDOM lying around for me? My brain & body are tired and I don't feel like thinking for myself...
*smooches...wishing there were someone else to do what I need to do*
----------
or someone else to help. Oh fuck it- someone to take care of me... THERE! I said it! I WANT SOMEONE TO COME AND TAKE CARE OF ME!!! *sobs all over your keyboard*
*also, if you can tell me what movie I stole that phrase from, I'll send you a FREE Jaded Tshirt
This, of course, does not include all the things I do that aren't for money: spending time w/my kids, keeping house, maintaining this (and other) sites, personal writing projects, writing workshops and oh yeah, sleep.
Well I'm not used to any of it. It's stressing me out. I'm eating as a result of anxiety instead of hunger. Subsequently, my pants are getting snug again. *sigh* I need a clone.
And I don't mean to complain about any of the good fortune that has fallen on my lap in the last couple of weeks, but it's all happening at once and I wasn't ready for it. I feel like I brought a knife to a gun fight!*
Now we all know I don't put too much stock in religion or the Catholic Church or any of that hubbub, but the one thing I kept from my childhood for when there's TOO MUCH going on that I cannot escape is this:
Although I have to say- I could care less about Serenity and I PISS on courage... all I really want it that damn WISDOM! "Should I go for the job in PA?" "Does he really like me or is this a fling?" "Am I doing the right thing for my girls?" "Is it really a terrible thing to subsist on a diet of Buffalo wings and oatmeal raisin cookies?"
Anyone got any WISDOM lying around for me? My brain & body are tired and I don't feel like thinking for myself...
*smooches...wishing there were someone else to do what I need to do*
----------
or someone else to help. Oh fuck it- someone to take care of me... THERE! I said it! I WANT SOMEONE TO COME AND TAKE CARE OF ME!!! *sobs all over your keyboard*
*also, if you can tell me what movie I stole that phrase from, I'll send you a FREE Jaded Tshirt
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