I found it!

I've been living in a fog of apathy. Apathy, to me, is one of the worst forms of evil. The insidious nature gets under your skin and slowly sucks away vitality, drive and purpose.

I admit, I spent the majority of my consciousness feeling sorry for myself. Day in, day out, I'd listlessly apply for jobs, or rather, go through the machinations of looking for work. I already knew I wouldn't get a call for an interview, and in a way, I was glad. After all, I finally set up a freelance writing business. If I got an in-house job, it would effectively nullify my ability to get off the ground independently. What a nice little psychological trap, eh?

See, I realized a while ago I'm not cut out for the nine to five. Ever since I can remember, I've marched to the beat of my own drum. Seriously. I'm not just saying that to validate my quirks. In a way, my quirkiness led to my fascination with psychology. I digress and will revisit that later, maybe.

The concept of work, or societal contribution, means something different to me. Letting go of attachments (I'm not a Buddhist, but I understand the principle) and by attachments I mean material gain, recognition and buying lots of shiny things. What EVER. I don't buy into consumerism, never did. This is why I'm not in advertising, by the way. Not that all advertising is bad, but I've never seen the accumulation of worldly possessions solve anything. Daniel Tosh disagrees. :)

Suffice it to say I remember now. By remembering the catalyst that knocked me from my altruistic path, I've gotten back on it.

It happened in Brazil fifteen years ago...

Bottom feeding

Under the guise of fair enterprise, the scam artists are coming out of the woodwork. They prey on the desperation of people who only want to make a decent living, or hell, keep themselves from getting evicted.

With the state of the economy, it's easy to understand the uber-competitive nature of humanity coming out. On one hand, there's hardly any work to be found, unless a PhD wants to sling burgers. They, of course, will be considered "overqualified." I wonder how many people have faked their resume to downplay their experience just to get menial wages and keep themselves from losing everything.

But, what I'm talking about here, are the scams. I, like many other people, am out of work. I'm also trying to figure out how to generate freelance work for my writing service (I hate how that sounds; writing service. Blech). No longer content to pay people what they're worth when they can be exploited (actually, it's always been that way to some extent but now, it's a hell of a lot more prevalent), I see a widening disparity between the parameters of an open position, and what's being compensated in return.

Some organizations disguise themselves as benevolent, take your time (knows they ask for everything but a blood sample) then either never return your call, or (abandon all hope here) they do. Places are increasingly asking for psych evaluations, for Pete's sake! I mean seriously, unless I'm working in a psychologically volatile and isolated position, how is this not demeaning and subjective? I'm thinking here of two places; one dealt with the public, the other supposedly offered book reviews.

The first one was working part time in a real estate office. How many variables can one present? And honestly, a psych eval to qualify for a part time admin position in a real estate office? I submitted an application for this position because, hell, it was walking distance from my apartment. In lieu of the psych eval, I proposed an in-person meeting first. Mind you, the remuneration was not posted. What ensued was pretty damn amusing.

My work history, physical proximity and references apparently weren't enough qualifiers to get me in for an interview; I got an email response first from a male "someone" at the office requesting I fill out the psych eval. A long, detailed psych eval. I swear, I envisioned a cartoonishly sadistic boss seeking the most servile personality to take abuse from. Thing is, with this economy, I actually considered it for a millisecond before dismissing it for the disparate power play that it was. I figured they wanted an honest impression of my disposition, so I stood my ground. No face to face job interview, no ludicrous psych eval.

This, of course, was before I worked for South Florida's version of Miranda Priestly (I'll get to that later).

Thing is, I see that what mostly translates to power in South Florida is maintaining the ability to make someone else miserable. In other words, low pay and perpetually hanging the sword of Damocles over the employee's head. Now, I'm not saying there aren't good people out there, or conversely, that people aren't happy with their jobs. What I am saying is that, by introspective hypothesis, I am an extreme case in asserting my independence and self-worth. I suck at hiding my feelings or displeasure when I see someone abusing their power and, for example, favoring certain employees because of their gender, color, and sexual orientation. Yes, I've been there too but I don't want to get sued for slander; the past employer I'm referring to has created an almost perfectly gender-disparate environment and women know they must beware.

So, tired of bowing my head and following the "herd" mentality, I struck out on my own. Someone told me once that pioneers are always the first to be shot. If you haven't learned to defend yourself, that is. And anyways, at what price freedom? I know what I don't want; namely, a corporation/entity/institution that treats their employee like shit/relegates people to slated positions due to their gender/stands for mindless consumerism/perpetuates oppressive gender stereotypes. Car commercials, in particular, stick in my craw. This is why I haven't forayed into advertising either. Eric Bogosian probably knows what I'm talking about.

So I come across this "organization" advertising writing book reviews on Craigslist. I have actually been very fortunate on Craigslist in finding work, buying furniture and the like. Until now. Usually, when I come across a want ad on this site, I run a check on the email. For example, if it says respond to info@writeher.com, I look for the website www.writeher.com. If the website is bunk and there's no telephone number, I don't apply. I also copy and paste part of the ad and run a search. If I see it come up on multiple job boards I know it's a scam too.

But these guys were GOOD. A philanthropic organization based in California that assist women transition to entrepreneurship. They help single moms. There's a contact on LinkedIn. They have a telephone number. No typos on their website. All RIGHT! They only asked for a rather non-invasive questionnaire. I took it gladly in oh, June? I haven't heard from them since.

I called and left several messages. Nothing, so I started to investigate. In my enthusiasm (I simply couldn't believe my good luck) I ran a search on the contents of the ad itself. And realized how many job boards it had been posted on. They just wanted to get people to take their fucking questionnaire, and disguised it (rather elaborately) as a philanthropic site. I have, however, been getting quite a few calls from a sales number.

I think I'll call the Better Business Bureau. They must have their hands full.

Extrasensory deprivation

Everyone has their shortcomings.  My most prevalent shortcoming (at least, far as I can tell) ironically, has everything to do with words. Communication, or lack of it. Before I continue, a disclaimer: I don't intend for this to come out as a "I'm to blame for everything" scenario. If it does, then it's something else I have to pay close attention to.

Words dominate, permeate and define me more than anything else. I was an avid and voracious reader from a very young age. From encyclopaedia to Spanish fairy tales (that means from Spain, and not referring to the language), my mom couldn't have enough unread material in the house. As a result, I developed a large vocabulary pretty early on.

This ability also affected me socially. Words were a big influence on my psychosocial development; how I related to peers, how I was perceived by teachers, parents, and other students my age. Due in part to how differently I talked than other kids my age, would-be friends began to define me as a smarty-pants. So did teachers. And parents. And tests were administered to measure it. And I was put on a public platform to display it. And why I wasn't ruling the world by the age of ten became a point of contention. And that I was a "wierdo" because I wasn't obsessing about makeup and dating; I spent most of my free time reading.

So my knowledge of words became one of my strongest lines of defense. Honestly, who doesn't use what they have to gain some equilibrium/dominate an interpersonal exchange? This, however, is unevolved and just plain stupid. I've always thought the people who you choose to surround yourself define you. Well, that's one aspect of self-definition, anyways. But ultimately, the problem is ego. How much smarter do I sound than the next person? Have I made my point? Shut up and listen to me; I'm right and you're wrong...

A seed was planted the other day as I heard and watched very negative conversations. The word "hate" was thrown around frequently and without reservation. I began to wonder, am I like that? In light of my recently being laid off and other communication breakdowns, it all came together that maybe I was. I've been called overly defensive - oh, yeah, there's also the cultural component; I'm a relocated New Yorker living in Miami. So what I take as normal communication, others perceive as brash.

I, me, I... ego. Not being able to get a word in edgewise during a conversation and feeling that knot of frustration grow in my stomach. Being misunderstood or ignored. Me, me, me. Why couldn't I just shut up and listen instead?

Well, why not?

I've made the decision to, in the near to immediate future, take a 24 vow of silence. As Brian put it, no words. No texting, no e-mailing, no talking. Just listen. Try and better understand others and myself. Tame that ego.

I thought about the four noble truths and how, to me, silence is the most powerful one. Yes, it makes sense. I might even do it once a month.

Brian suggested a day of not receiving any word-based communication. No reading, no watching television, no music with lyrics, no computer. Initially, I dismissed it as counter-productive but then I got to thinking, it is in essence the exact opposite, and therefore part of the whole in this introspection.

A segue:
After having put it down half-read, I picked up The Celestine Prophecy again last night. Later on, when Brian came home, we talked about the book, my future day of silence, and non-verbal communication. Then this morning, I stumbled across this link:

http://www.jnforensics.com/

Which has everything to do with decoding human non-verbal communication.

Coincidence? I think not.

This is an entry on horoscopes (and other mumbo jumbo)

So, I have a thing for horoscopes. I haven't met someone yet who doesn't to some minor degree. In the interest of following my instincts and listening to my inner voice (there's a new moon eclipse in my twelfth house of insight, secrets and imagination), I'm going all out.

This, in particular, tickled me. I want to paraphrase and make it my own in the future:


Your words and ideas can transport others beyond the world as they know it and into the world as they wish it could be.

HELL YEAH!!!

Side track:
Apparently, if someone is keeping secrets from me, they won't be able to for much longer. While I value honesty above almost all other traits, I really don't waste my time speculating on other people's intentions. If they're being two-faced, that's their problem. Must suck to be them, though.

Last night, I had a curious and rather nice dream. While walking down the street in a night-time amalgam of Downtown Miami and New York (I guess I still miss the north some), I entered an equally architecturally integrated multi-storied building. I then took the elevator up to my new apartment. A corner apartment. With a wraparound balcony. Overlooking the bay. It was gorgeous. I remember exploring my bad-ass digs and discovering I had a brand-new grill outside, just waiting to be fired up.

Then I was sailing over the murky night waters helping pick up the oil spill. I had something like a net.

Day time activities await.

Groggy Blog

This is a halfway-through-my-first-cup-of-coffee entry. I just wanted to see what would happen (to me).

See, I compulsively edit all the posts I put on here, but not today. Is it Maya Angelou who said "being a natural writer is like being a natural heart surgeon"? Yes, grammatically incorrect punctuation placement. I'm aware of it. Leave it where it is.

The creative process is as varied as the human condition. I actually haven't heard too much about other people's creative process, save for Brian's (which, I think, involves a major spike in stress prior to performing). My creative process involves being in touch with my subconscious. Man that sounds foofy.

Basically, a good percentage of my inspiration comes from my dreams. I'm chased by enlightened space bananas, trip over a malicious marshmallow, wake up and POOF! Stream of consciousness comes pouring out - amorphous, fluid and fast. I remember being much weirder and, well, wittier when I was a kid. I think it had something to do with not caring what other people thought of me as much. I amused the hell out of me. I used to get a lot of inspiration from that, too. Nowadays, not so much.

This is probably why grown-up artists rely so heavily on "substances" to enhance their askew-ness. I'm sure there's an article or a thousand about that somewhere, I'm just too lazy to look for it right now.

So my blog post is all about tapping into that for the moment. Doesn't seem to be working as well as I thought it would; I'm still really groggy.

Oh, a side note: I said I'd put some alternative health tips on here, and I didn't. I haven't forgotten, but I want to give requests a try. I'll address that in a separate post.

My current quandary

I know myself. In a certain light, that may be the crux of my quandary.

Ego.


It's difficult to paraphrase events, because the mind plays tricks on memory. As ultimately self-serving beings (call it the survival instinct), memory is often seen through rose-colored glasses favoring the re-caller.

I'm no psychologist, but that's my explanation for why, when you're retelling something that happened to you to a friend, sometimes you stumble over your words. At least, that's what happens to me.

Wow, I meander too. Basically, I was recounting to a friend about a current sticky situation, and she advised me to "roll with the punches." This is how you get toughened up, and in certain industries, it's a necessary indoctrination. You have to become emotionally mature.

In light of a recent event where I blew up and got all hot under the collar for (in hindsight) not a good enough reason, I think that's in order.

People who are put in your path to toughen you up, my friend said, are the ones who teach you the most. The greater the trial, the greater the reward.

But, where to draw the line? In the end, I can only be myself after all. In the past couple of days, I've alluded to boundaries and all that jazz. Where I draw the line is when I'm pushed past my limit. I want to learn, yes. I defer to a seasoned expert, yes. I do not, however, swallow it until I'm physically ill and developing an ulcer.

As I responded to my friend (Emmy), in my view and in a very challenging situation like this, some people allow themselves to be broken in, others wither and die, and others get fed up, and fight back.

Constructive criticism and tutelage, yes. Character assassination and insult, no.

You hear me? NO.

And I will not quit, either.

In three hundred words or less

I have a higher purpose at my new job. At first glance, it may not be clear why I'm not pursuing my writing career, and that is because I actually am.

Pretty much anyone has some modicum of talent at something. The trick is discipline. Discipline and persistence separates a starving artist from an accomplished one.

I don't want to peddle my wares for free and I don't like being told what to do. My path is chosen.

Now? How to exercise restraint. I am learning how to be independent, after all. But at what cost? Do I let people walk all over me? I mistakenly misinterpreted what a friend said (as in applying it to my own life). Those who challenge you, force you to grow. True enough, except I am no masochist.

I mistakenly thought I'd get some respect based on the merits of my work and dedication. I was wrong. To get respect, one must garner it by not letting people walk all over you. This does not mean barking at people, or being nasty. It just means setting boundaries.

Starting today, I will no longer neglect my needs in the hope my sacrifices are noticed and appreciated. They're not.

I will dedicate time to my personal pursuits. I will not fade away.

Most importantly, I will no longer hide my true face.

Man it feels good to write a blog entry. How freaking long has it been?

Working...

I'm conflicted.

Is it a good thing to have a blog post request delineating whats currently going on in my life?
OR
Is it a bad thing to be disconnected, to have people able to "read" what's going on in my life without actually interacting with me?

Aside from a choice few people, I haven't had the opportunity to actually speak with people and talk about the increasingly challenging (and rewarding) demands of my new position. I'm kind of glad about that.

But, I remember a time when there were congratulatory dinners or outings, or at the least a "tell me EVERYTHING, GIRL" phone call. I'm not asking for fanfare (although let's face it, it would be nice), I'm asking for the mutual connection; the dual effort, the human touch.

Similarly to the volume of my FB friends (many of whom are old school buddies) that I don't really keep in touch with, I feel that if people don't make the actual effort to be a part of your daily life, they shouldn't be privy to the ins and outs of it. Wow, that sounds bad. But hell, it's true.

As for the FB friends, I go through sporadic purging of that list. People I actually talk to, or share enough common interests with (if they're public personas so don't have much time), yes, they stay. People who all I know currently about is their sporadic updates and not much beyond that? Hmmmm...

This morning I had a dream I was pregnant (please, no low-brow comments about me ACTUALLY being pregnant, I'm not). I had done something to extend and control the date my son was going to be born. He (yes, it was a he) absolutely had to be born in the sign of Leo to fulfill some grand destiny. The problem was, his natural expected due date was dangerously close to my birthday (and Fidel Castro's). The grand destiny came with a lot of power that could be used for great good or great evil. I didn't want to tempt fate and run the risk of unleashing another megalomaniac into the world. So, I deliberately held off on having the baby until the absolute last day the sun was in Leo. I don't think I've ever dreamed about being preggo. When I woke up and looked at the cusp date, I was off by one day.

My waking thought (besides WOW, I wonder what a dream about being pregnant means) was about making my work commute "green." I wonder if there's a consulting service for "greening" your life in degrees? I wonder if companies would consider having a carpooling service, and using public transportation to ease commute time, alleviate pollution and cut down on the stress of fighting traffic in the morning?

Maybe it's an idealistic thought; I am a former New Yorker, so I relish the idea of taking a train into work and not having to worry about driving (like having your freaking car battery dying the VERY SAME MORNING you start your new job).

How is my new job going? I'll tell all during a phone call or over a shared pitcher of something frothy, cold and tasty (Mmmmmmargaritaaasss). After my indoctrination today of the weekly deadline frenzy, I might just need a drink or five. Who's buying?

Addiction

So much has been written and portrayed about it. Drugs, alcohol, gambling, you name it. This post isn't about trying to come to terms with the disease, it's my rant about being on the receiving end of watching someone you care about destroy themselves. It's about the helplessness, and the anger that comes along with it.

One of the hardest things I've had to do is walk away from someone who is self-destructing. Family, close friends, ex-boyfriends, all. Here is someone you love and care about, and you try as much as you can to help them. You try to give them hope by staying by your side. Then you realize you're not helping them, you're enabling them.

By staying by their side, you're telling them, "you're not so bad, see? I'm still by your side." Unfortunately, addicts don't realize just how much they've hurt their loved ones until they've lost everything, and all their loved ones have left their side. Having been along for the ride more than once, I had no choice to but jump off before I hit the brick wall along with them.

What pisses me off is the addict's selfishness. I know addiction is a disease, but frankly, I don't think it's fair to have to join a support group to deal with the kind of lifelong scars an addict's behavior leaves behind. The functional addict is the worst. They have the strongest "defense" against getting the help they so badly need. They justify maintaining a steady job or providing for their loved ones, meanwhile the worsening health, the erratic and abusive behavior; the loved one is left scrambling to keep it all together while the addict just keeps using.

It gets to a point where it's just too much, and the loved one has no choice but to turn their back. God that's horrible, but what else can you do? Crash and burn with them? Get into a car and hope they're as sober as they say they are, and not end up in a hospital, jail cell or morgue along with them? And when it does happen, of course, you blame yourself for not being there for them.

But there is NOTHING you can do. I don't know if interventions work, I do know that when an addict hits rock bottom and comes to their own realization what a mess they've made of their life is when they start to change. The will to change and stop the behavior comes from within. No one can force an addict to clean up their act. Maybe if they're pushed hard enough they'll stop for a while, but they'll always end up falling off the wagon again unless the realization and change comes from within them.

Not everyone goes through this change. Some people hit rock bottom and stay there. Others mentally or physically abuse their loved ones until there's nothing left but the addiction and the abuse. So, what is a friend, partner or family member to do when faced with a situation like that?

My first day

Last night, I was telling Brian (my boyfriend, for those who might not know) that instead of organizing and cleaning in preparation for my first day of work at Miami Today, I pretty much fully enjoyed my last official day of slack.

No matter how much I tried beforehand to glean information from the paper, wash my clothes, lay out an outfit, prepare a lunch and so on, today was going to be unpredictable and awkward.

A couple of years ago, I interviewed for an exec assistant position supporting the ER Medical Director at Mt. Sinai Medical Center. I arrived at the interview three hours late because I didn't have a car at the time. I ended up walking practically a mile to the interview site in formal clothes, I got rained on while en route... well, you get the idea. I got the job (and stayed there until the company closed up shop).

I told Brian, "Anything could happen tomorrow. I could plan tomorrow perfectly and who knows? My car could break down." Well...

Eager to make a great first impression, I got in my car this morning on time and ready to head to my new job. My. Car. Wouldn't. Start.

Nothing, not even a death rattle. My heart stopped. I immediately called the office and told them I was having car trouble (so much for a spotless first impression), hoping to God they wouldn't take this as a sign not to keep me. They were absolutely wonderful, even compassionate. The current assistant said not to worry, these things happen (and as Murphy's Law would have it, usually at critical times like these). She asked me all kinds of questions geared specifically towards my well-being. I was calmed.

I had asked a neighbor for a jump, but his immediate response (he has a reputation for being an all-around ass) was, "Sorry, I have no time." I swear I detected the trace of a sneer on his face.

Luckily, I have AAA premium (the highest paid membership level, which if memory serves me right, is 120 a year) . People, if you don't have AAA, go out and get it. I could tow my car to Arkansas and back, and it would be free. Of course, what I needed was a jump. I called them; they dispatched someone to me right away.

The guys got to my place and the first thing they said was I give the best directions, ever. They popped the hood, did their thing and discerned I needed a new battery. Apparently in Miami, car batteries last about two years due to direct sunlight (if it's parked outside). What a time for it to give out, eh?

AAA offers a new battery replacement with, get this, a SIX YEAR warranty. If, in the first three years the battery gives out, they come and replace it, free of charge. The next three years are prorated. It doesn't get any better than that.

They left me waiting for another guy to come out and replace my battery. By the way, the cost of the new battery, the installation, disposal of the old battery, and the warranty, the total came out to around 125 bucks. Seriously... WOW.

Next came the issue of paying for the desperately needed emergency service. I don't need to tell you that after being unemployed for six months, I didn't exactly have that money laying around. Here, Brian came to my rescue.

Let me just digress for a moment and say that at this point, I was already blown away by the compassion and understanding I was getting from pretty much EVERYONE. Brian, without hesitation, said hell yes he'd help me, and the VP at my office (who I'm the support for) called to tell me I could come in tomorrow; it was no big deal. I said thank you, but I was determined to make today my first day, even if I had to resort to public transportation to do it.

So, the AAA battery guy shows up after managing to get lost about five blocks from my apartment. I had to practically send up a flare so he could find me. At this point, I was pretty damn amused at all of this. He pulled into the parking lot, changed my battery in about three minutes, then asked for my AAA card, my ID, my credit card... Uh oh.

The credit card I was using to pay for the service was in Brian's wallet, and he was at work. O.k., NOW I started to freak out. While I'm talking to the guy (who was very nice) trying to figure out a way to pay him without blowing my whole first day at work, an older lady who I'd never seen before approached me and introduced herself as Mary. She was a neighbor who'd been watching the whole exchange from her upstairs window, and wanted to know if there was anything she could do to help.

I was stunned by her kindness. I explained the AAA guy was on the phone with his boss to see if there was a way I could use the credit card without having the actual card on me. Mary tells me she's part of Oprah's Angels, and she'd gladly write out a check to give to the guy. When her kindness moved me to tears (and they have again, just now) and I asked her how, why she'd do that for a complete stranger, she said because she could.


I can't really say anything more, that incredibly beautiful gesture stands on its own.

Nevertheless, the AAA guy's boss approved the transaction, and the service was paid for. Mary stayed with me for a short while to ensure all was well, then walked away just like that.

I (finally) drove to work and arrived just around lunchtime. I met, and had lunch with some of the staff (some I already knew, most I didn't). Of course I told them all what had happened, I mean come on, talk about exciting. The rest of the afternoon was a happy blur of information overload; I helped my new boss dig through, toss and organize paperwork dating back to 2008 (she thanked me from freeing her from that "paper prison"). I spent time just absorbing the sheer volume of my new work responsibilities, then spent the rest of the afternoon speaking to the publisher/editor, a super intelligent individual (along with everyone else who works there) with the most positive, forthright and unbiased work ethic a chick like me could bask in for a long, long time.

And like everyone else who's happily employed there, a stable career with longevity is part of welcoming this rather overwhelmed, happy woman into their fold.

Boy, am I glad I slacked off to the fullest yesterday! :D

About time

This morning I woke up at 6:00 am on the dot after a long (for me), restful sleep. It was still darkish out and the sky was that predawn shade of periwinkle; the color of sleep. One lone bird was nestled in the tree line outside my living room window chirping like mad; except for that it was quiet.

I define myself as a morning person; others have termed me as having "nuclear" morning energy. Judging by the reprimands I've gotten in the past for being downright obnoxious, I'm pretty sure I'm not in sync with most people.

By morning person, I mean that without an alarm clock, I'm usually up by 7:30ish, and moving about in a buzz of blindingly quick energy by 8:00. If I had few or no neighbors to be considerate of, I'd be blasting music too, of the Ministry/Van Halen variety.

I really despise the aspect of culture that has (and I'm thinking specifically of advertising here) demonized mornings. Bleary-eyed zombies can only become humanly upbeat by consuming this coffee, the horrible morning commute, the time-rush vs. healthy breakfast, the blare of the alarm clock... Seriously, why do people buy into that garbage? Oh, and Dunkin Donuts coffee RULES.

But I digress. I'm usually not up this early, but it doesn't really bother me; I know I got a good night's sleep. I think if people just paid more attention to their Circadian rhythms, and less to cultural pressures, we'd all be better off. So what, you have to be at work by 9:00 am? Without the aid of alarm clocks or distractions, see how many hours of sleep you need before you naturally wake up. The popular adage is "get eight hours of rest," but I've seen that most people desire or require more (or maybe that's just the appeal of exercising that luxury).

Because I woke up so damn early, I have a lot of time on my hands today to get things done before the world comes rushing in. How awesome is it that by noon today, I'll probably have most of my chores and tasks done? By the way, if Saturday morning cartoons were more entertaining, I'd have them on. I used to watch them religiously, but now they all seem to be about I'M (SMARTER, STRONGER, MORE CLEVER, RICHER) BETTER THAN YOU. Ugh.

If you can't shake the imposed work schedule most of us have to adhere to, why not learn to work with the flow instead of against it? Think about it. Or am I being delusional? Maybe because I'm a morning person, I can't relate to how crummy most people actually feel when they wake up.

The opposite holds true in that generally, people want ME to adhere to their nighttime schedule. My mom was (and is) an unrepentant night owl and marathon sleeper; my diametric sleep opposite. My morning-ness, by the way, is hereditary. It wasn't until after my father passed away that my mom told me Dad used to be an early riser/breakfaster/doer. When I saw him ambling about most days, I thought he was just up at sunrise due to his work hours.

I don't hit the snooze button ten times before actually getting up. If after I'm awake (and at the peak of my energy) I stay in bed, I actually get very irritable. If by some miracle, I go back to sleep, when I wake up all my energy and pep is gone, and I feel, well, hung over and kind of run down.

It took practically a lifetime for my mom to learn this; I just don't function well at night. She usually stays up until about three in the morning (if not later). When I lived with her, she'd wake me up at midnight or later to watch some funny TV with her (like Benny Hill). I'm not complaining; I saw some really funny late night shit and weird cartoon marathons. I also think this is why I now sometimes get insomnia.

I get sleepy around 10-ish (this hasn't wavered since I was a kid) and usually knock out before midnight. The fun part comes about when I wake up four to six hours later, and can't get back to sleep. Thanks goes to Dad too, for the militant, unwavering precision of my internal clock. Even though Mom now finally understands we operate differently, when she visited me this past winter she tried to keep me up past my natural bedtime to watch TV with her. The kicker? She gets mad at me for falling asleep! Hell, I could drink a full pot of coffee and still; put me in a dark, cozy room where I don't have to be actively engaged, past 11:00, and dammit, I'm probably going to fall out.

Mornings are the best! The promise of a whole new day is laid out before you. This is when my mind is sharpest, too; I'm most inspired to write as soon as I wake up. Believe it or not, I'd rather be left to my own ruminations so I can stay focused. Making small talk, lingering about with half-asleep folk while precious minutes tick away, that just kills me. Thankfully, all it takes for most people to back off, is a full blast of "nuclear me."

It's not that I don't like to socialize, it's that I don't like to slow down to wait for anyone while I'm high-octane. Unfortunately, while interacting with most, for me this means sitting down, and between painfully long, strained pauses, not doing what I'm naturally inclined to do. I try not to jump up, and move about at maximum warp and efficacy while (usually) singing and/or dancing. I'm not so good at self-restraint.

Since most people aren't hyper-awake prior to noon, why not just give me a wide berth to accomplish what I need to do? Why not leave me be to sleep at night when my body shuts down, and not get offended that I just can't re-wire my synapses to be a night person? I don't call people at 7:00 am to shout out a GREAT MORNING WAKE UP, or force a hearty breakfast on them, or annoy neighbors/roommates by blasting heavy metal (okay, so I have done that before but not on purpose, now I just wear a MP3 player with ear plugs).

Being forced outside one's natural sleep schedule sucks. I think everyone should have an "in-your-shoes" day. When I was about 13, Mom and I traveled from New York City to the Canadian border by bus. We departed at midnight and arrived at our first pit stop (a diner) at around 6:00 am. My mom watched in horror (oh I wish I'd had a camera to capture the look on her face) as I ordered a lumberjack's breakfast, then ate both MY food and HERS. That was when she realized how much my father's daughter I really was. After that, she pretty much stopped bothering me late at night.

To this day, my Mom unplugs her land line, refuses to go/be anywhere until after noon, and schedules all her appointments for later in the day unless it's unavoidable. As with her, I still have to continuously redraw my boundaries. I have to constantly gently remind people not to take it personally; the later it gets, the less socially engaged I become. What I think people remember the most, though, usually comes after they see my energy level: MORNING PERSON, PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

The future's so bright...!

Wow. Amazing how miscommunication almost screwed me out of a job!

After the original job offer was clarified to me (yes there ARE benefits, and they rock), we finalized the agreement. The base salary is what it is, BUT, tack on a 1% commission and up shoots my pay!

Starting next week I will be EMPLOYED!!!

And throughout all of this, I STILL learned how truly lucky I am to have the wonderful love and support of my loved ones. I STILL learned how to negotiate, and that I can do it without it backfiring. I STILL learned I have the respect of my peers and past employers, who gave me glowing, sincere references.

KICK ASS!!! I found a JOB!!!

Bad medicine

There are a lot of good doctors out there. Had it not been for the expertise and compassion of doctors, I wouldn't be sitting here now relaying my sentiments. I have a deep respect for the medical field, so much so that I usually end up falling ass backwards into some health industry-related job. I think they do good work, and having worked side by side with them a few times in the past, I know the level of caring they're capable of.

On the other hand, there are doctors who are in it just for the money. Unfortunately, these are the ones that get the most press, because the result of their attitude is usually devastating and deadly. I've had run-ins with them too, and my memories are chilling.

I remember one friend who had a history of ectopic pregnancy, a very dangerous and life-threatening condition. She had even had emergency surgery to terminate the pregnancy and remove a fallopian tube. Suspecting she was pregnant again, she made an appointment with her ob/gyn. This was no HMO, mind you.

Even armed with her history and chart, the ob/gyn's office tried to space out her visits so they could milk charging her for every separate appointment. They had scheduled her ultrasound for the next day. I was pissed. Thankfully, I knew just how to talk to her offices, and got her test scheduled for that same afternoon. She was rushed to emergency surgery that very same day when the results got back. What would have happened if she had acquiesced and waited a whole day? She could have died.

This morning, my boyfriend's elderly grandmother had to be rushed to the hospital after she collapsed with severe stomach pain. She had been to her doctor two days ago, who instead of giving her an analgesic and following up on her progress, just wrote her a prescription and sent her on her way. WTF?

I'm no doctor, but if an ELDERLY person who presents with complications from a chronic and recurring condition, a fever, and major pain goes to see you for help, isn't a follow up kind of...vital?

Also, there are many, many ways to advise on preventative health measures. I bet they didn't even ask her questions about her diet. For what she has, there are quite a few kinds of foods she needs to avoid until she gets better.

I am dedicating the next couple of posts to stuff I've learned (and have been using for a long time) that is ALL NATURAL and SAFE, that will repair, alleviate, and prevent certain afflictions.

My first invaluable gold nugget: taking calcium supplements will erase cramps, pretty much FOREVER.

Since the age of nineteen, I've been taking GNC's calcium complete, two a day, EVERY day. Before I did this, I used to suffer from debilitating cramps that had me popping Motrin like candy. I got to the point where my body got so used to the pain killers, I could literally swallow a fistful and nothing would happen. This, by the way, is what happens to the body. The more you take pain killers, the less effective they become (like what happens with heroin addicts).

I don't want to hear crap about GNC not being good and what have you, I tell you this WORKS. An acquaintance in college saw me curled up in a ball and told me about the calcium (thank you Susan, wherever you are). Besides, women have a predisposition for osteoporosis when after menopause. Guess what prevents that? Taking calcium supplements!

Not one effing ob/gyn has ever said this to me. I wonder if they even know about it. I figured hell, it certainly can't hurt and started taking them. For me, it took a daily dosage of 1200 mg for five months (five months is the average time the level of calcium takes to build up in the body to the point where you notice a difference).

The trick is a supplement that contains these three ingredients: calcium, magnesium and vitamin C. Notice also that all these supplements are available over the counter. If they were unsafe in any way (like iron, which can poison you if you take too much of it), you wouldn't be able to walk right now into any store and pick this stuff up in bulk, if you wanted to.

I confirmed my personal experience with a nurse (who was on staff at my old job for a short time). She said it was a known fact magnesium works for pain relief. Don't believe me? Check out the British Journal of Anaesthesia's article.

Vitamin C acts as a catalyst to better distribute both magnesium and calcium in your body. Here's an article about calcium being an effective pain killer, as well.

I'm living proof this is effective for the CESSATION, not RELIEF of menstrual pain. Why the hell isn't this information made available to girls around the time of puberty? Because it wouldn't be in the best interest of the pharmaceutical companies, that's why.

I'll close my tirade (for now) with this: every woman, and I mean EVERY one, should have a copy of Our Bodies, Ourselves, which by the way, is written by doctors in layperson's terminology. I had a copy at one point, and the wealth of information you will find will stagger you. Stupid, simple things like what I just divulged, which if it were more public information, would greatly improve the lives of millions of women.

Disclaimer: I am NOT a doctor, or a med student, or a nurse or anything of that sort. This post is in no way intended to supplant professional medical advice. This post is for information purposes only, ok? Got it?

Pyrite

Much to my delight, there are many changes afoot in my life outside the realm of my control. The catalyst for this is, of course, my unemployed status. In times like these, I have come to reap the benefits of a rich life. How is this possible when I literally have a $0 balance on my checking account? I'll explain...

I'll start off first with my recent series of interviews for a prospective employer (I'll try to keep it short, I promise). Professionally, I want to stay within the publishing industry. Ideally, I'd have regular clients clamoring for my competitively-priced freelance writing services by now. As it stands, my website (whose fictitious name I finally registered with the Corporations division in Tallahassee, thanks to my boyfriend) still needs some work. I need a services page, a rate sheet, a database of prospective clients, and I need to market market market.

All of this is new to me. I've been trying my best to emulate established businesses, and hoping I don't step in a big pile of "oops." So far, so good.

So, in the interim I was hoping to get an in-house position within the publishing industry to tide me over while my freelance business starts to take off. I haven't lost sight of finishing college, it's just on hold until I can generate the income to pay for it. I don't qualify for financial aid.

This is an employer's market (duh). Any interview for an in-house position you go on, you are competing with at least fifty other just-as-qualified and desperate candidates. Even when the market is good, many employers in Florida don't offer competitive pay or a decent benefits package (one of the many reasons I'm building my entrepreneurship). I blame the lack of unions for this. Florida is also a "terminate at will" state, as most know. No matter how much you bust your butt, your employer can fire you without warning, reason, or fear of reprecussion.

In the many months I've been looking for work, I've found two constants in most want ads: 1) a practically PhD-level skill set of requests, compensating between 8-10 dollars an hour (mostly on craigslist), and my personal favorite 2) the bait-and-switch.

The bait-and-switch is where the initial ad titles the position into a lower-paying stratum (clerk, secretary, jr something-or-other) while the body of the ad clearly calls for a much higher level of responsibility. Present prospective employers somehow seem to think interviewees are stupid enough to not know what's actually going on.

We know what you're trying to pull; we're just desperate for work. My best friend, a former job recruiter (he did this for nine years) said this is a typical tactic when the market favors the employer. Get someone in who is qualified or overqualified, and exploit the hell out of them. The problem with this is, it only works for so long. If the new employee takes the job without hinting at negotiation for fairer pay; you'd better believe they're just biding time until they find something that pays better. And trust me, eventually they will, and they'll leave for greener pastures, and you'll be left holding your d*!k.

If a potential employer is okay with making the position a revolving door (I've seen plenty of these too; the boss is a tyrant, the hours and responsibilities aren't what the incumbent were told they were, etc.) then fine. Some companies are just fine with that. But doesn't it make more sense to hire the person best qualified for the job and offer to PAY THEM WHAT THEY'RE WORTH?

Honestly, who wouldn't want a happy, loyal employee? What about the work that either doesn't get done, or is incompetently mismanaged because, to save a buck, you decided you were going to be tightfisted? I believe in a shared respect; put yourself in the other person's position, then see it for the win-win situation it is when everyone walks away happy.

So how does this translate into general contentment? I have many, many people in my corner. I have the support and encouragement of loved ones, and the apparent respect of some of my business peers. Also, through this most recent exercise, I was able to learn how to negotiate.

It's simple, really, and there are a lot of resources out there. Some, like salary.com, but into actual perspective what the true rigors of elevated responsibilities are worth. Yes, the job market sucks right now, but I believe any employer with integrity would appreciate the courage and moxy it takes to propose a counter offer.

Of course, I do have some advantages providing me with the leverage to be able to step into this arena. I'm not in danger of losing my place of residence. A narrow escape, as some of you know, and completely due to an overwhelming show of support from family and loved ones. I also firmly believe it's only a matter of time before my freelance business starts to take off (also due to the support of loved ones). Finally, slowly but surely, more fairly compensating jobs are starting to emerge.

Through all this, I managed to recapture a sense of self-worth. Even though I want a job, I'm no longer desperate and have the ability to marshal the direction of my professional future. This is an invaluable freedom, and you just can't put a price tag on that. I also know that I truly have a solid support system that will cushion me against being forced into a deviation from my goals. Job offers will come and go, but the richness of my life is worth its weight in gold.

Diffusion

Sorry for the confusion in my last post, if there is any. I'm completely in a good mood; I'm just making a personal observation.

Due to all the scrutiny I've been under lately, including a character assessment that felt not totally unlike an attack yesterday, I felt the need to air out my thoughts.

It is my fear (as is probably everyone's to some level) that the level of freedom people have to peek into my life without actually communicating with me, may result in a skewed perception of what I'm all about.

There are a myriad of factors converging into the path my decisions and outlook are currently taking. Some factors are public knowledge, others are not. Also, I had a lot of reservations about starting a blog until a wise friend told me to do it for my own sake. This means not editing out thoughts, sentiments or any aspect of my posts for fear of the public "that's not cool" scenario.

Other writers will say caution is a strong cause for staying one's hand when addressing the public. This fear stymied my creativity from seeing the light of day for a long, long time. Then, like magic, I realized the wisdom of my friend's words because in any permutation that addresses the public, you just can't please everyone.

It's a necessary exercise for me, a pretty private person, to become used to displaying my chosen creative medium in a pubic forum. I'm still trying to find my footing, and probably always will to a certain degree. I want my words to uplift, to teach, to amuse and perhaps find common ground with others going through a similar phase (whether it's a happy instance or not).

But overall, my blog is primarily for me. Right now, this is my preferred tool for publicly expounding on my sometimes crazy thoughts. My posts are a one-dimensional aspect of my psyche that bubbles to the surface. This is also true of the impetus for my writing. It is my therapy, my compulsion, my happiness, pain, and travails. Like my clothes or the way I decide to wear my hair that day, my writing is subject to barometric changes; a mutable facet of my public persona. And it feels good to let it all hang out.

Vigilance and seques; a shield?

Today will be one of those never-a-dull-moment days. To start with, this evening I'm meeting my landlord for the first time face to face so I'd like to have the apartment as presentable as possible. My life right now seems almost like a movie: hairpin turns, sudden adversity, possibility of redemption...what will happen next?

And with the above hook, I segue into the most prominent idea I woke up with; vigilance. As those who follow my Facebook posts already know, I interviewed for a position yesterday. This is the first interview I've had since applying for job after job and getting no face time granted.

Yesterday, I woke up in a good enough mood even before I got a call for the interview. It has everything to do with practicing detachment. I finally understand. Thanks to my friend for putting into perspective how an experience serves its purpose to put you on a grander path. My perspective since has definitely improved.

Although I do like this apartment well enough, even before I lost my job, I was thinking it was a bit too much for me to take on financially. I love living by myself, but with the rent, the utilities, and other financial responsibilities on my plate I was barely able to keep myself treading water even while I was employed. There's some socioeconomic rule somewhere that states no matter how much you make, your lifestyle always expands to accommodate a certain lifestyle. This is why you see millionaires go penniless when shit goes bad. I always think, "They had NOTHING saved up?" Well, spin that down to a more modest lifestyle and when you see how people's financial obligations pin them down similarly, you have your answer.

So, I started from then on, to think about moving when my lease came up for renewal in May. See, even though the apartment is very, very nice, lately the amount of noise pollution associated with the commercial plaza across the street has literally woken me up. Is it a symptom of getting older? My bedroom is diagonally across the street from it. The delivery trucks I can handle, it's the fucking over-diligent morning leaf blowers I'd like to strangle one at a time.

After being woken up one day at around 6:45 am and confronting one about the law (no noise of that caliber until after 7 am), they've scaled back their efforts and now saunter slowly, noisily, around and around the same spot well before 9:00 am. If I worked a night shift, I'd be royally pissed. Ditto on the rare occasion I go out or stay up late for whatever reason. NO one should mitigate my sleeping schedule, and I'm shocked all my neighbors haven't rallied to lodge a formal complaint against these a-holes.

That small little thing made me think what started out as a quasi-idyllic living situation has turned into a gilded cage. My unemployment compensation is pretty much the amount I need to keep myself afloat rent- and utility-wise. Also, in one of the first conversations I had with my landlord, he stated very emphatically "Don't ask me about buying the place BECAUSE I'M NOT SELLING IT." Erm... I never expressed interest in buying the place, ever.

In pursuant conversations(he's a super nice guy by the way), he mentioned on more than one occasion moving back to "his apartment." Can't argue with that. This is, after all, his apartment. His emphasis on that, though, left an indelibly strong mark on my psyche; don't get too comfortable, the guy wants his place back one day. This, for those of you who've visited me, is why there are little to no design accents at my place. Also, I've always leaned towards minimalism. Clutter = yuck.

Now I'm meeting with him for the first time today, and he's bringing the realtor in tow. Not a problem, as change is the only constant. If I have to vacate at the end of the month or what have you, so be it. I am where I am supposed to be, and things are developing as they should.

One other thing, however, stood out for me yesterday, and that's the level of vigilance people have over each other. Frankly, it kind of pisses me off. Yesterday started with a brief conversation with the the condo president. He's always keeping a suspicious on people. The latest development? He has a fair idea of who screwed up our washing machine. Literally, a screw was thrown unto the washing machine. Kinda funny, actually. Mean, but clever nonetheless.

My landlord's cousin lives on the premises but who I have no idea who she is; I don't even know her name. It's not enough I passed a background check to move into this place; some nameless, unknown family member is making sure (I'm sure) I behave.

The police have issued ticket after ticket to keep a watchful eye on their citizens; especially those of color. As soon as a ticket clears up, another pops up. Pay the man PAY THE MAN.

The interview, where there is rigorous questioning about my past, my business associates, my dreams, and my social security number.

And Facebook. I might change my settings to ultra-private, because I have suddenly found myself friends with more than a few people who I have little to no contact with. Out of courtesy I "friended" them. Now, I feel like I have a silent panel watching, discussing and judging my every move. Like living in a fishbowl. Mind you, I have nothing to hide, but no one and I mean NO one should have to live under such constant vigilance. As soon as I do something that someone disapproves of (and I will, I'm only human) let the judgments begin. And it is all about power. To add insult to injury, Facebook is constantly under scrutiny for messing with the level of privacy people have. I am very close to just deleting the damn account, and just might.

I get the silent watching, I mean it is perfect. You don't leave your comfort zone while ensuring someone else is living up to your standards (or at least providing entertaining fodder). Still, it feels...icky. If there's one thing people know pretty quickly, it's that I'm an open book. No mystery in getting me to "fess up" some deep dark secret or inflame suspicions. Sorry to disappoint but I'm in no way wired that way. Anyone who wants to know what I'm up to needs only to ask OR READ THIS BLOG :D

Should I record tonight's meeting? This is a case for vigilance for my own protection, isn't it?

Detachment

Last night there was a Lost watching party at my place. I'm not sure if there are three or four episodes left, I just look forward to next week's all new episode.

Which brings me meandering to the point of this whole blog entry. Thanks to the support of my friends and loved ones, I am beginning to finally understand the concept of detachment. I don't know about other people, but to me the word "detachment" has negative connotations. Same goes for "self-love" and "ambition." It conjures up ruthlessness and a Machiavellian disposition.

Another friend of mine, whose opinion I highly value, has mentioned one of the types of detachment I had been looking for. Mind you, I didn't know I was looking for it. She talks about pursuing one's goals without fear of lustful result.

Let that marinate for a moment; that is no small feat for us self-serving carbon-based life forms. I mean heck, isn't just about EVERYTHING we do striving for results? The ongoing pursuit to achieve permanent homeostasis colors most of our ambitions and goals: transportation, shelter, nourishment... Of course, I can't leave behind our other purpose; propagation of the species.

Translation into the neat little self-propelled circle of non-action I had ensconced myself into; my head (and constant loving support) kept telling me go go go go do it! Why then was I digging in my heels more every day and not changing my methodology? Simple, my ego wouldn't let me. I was attached to the past; reliving real and imagined slights on my achievements. Ego = attachment.

As my other dear friend said to me last night: things that happen in the past serve their purpose to put you on a new one, and what a bright path this one is. I can't see what's in front of me until I can let go of what's holding me back (to flirt with a quasi-cliche).

Thank you, dear friends and loved ones, for not letting me give up.


Carpe Diem.

Questions of direction

It all comes from one simple question; am I on the right track? I'm sure most people, if not everyone has asked themselves this at least once in their life.

Is it better to stick to my guns, or be flexible? One one hand, I want to focus focus focus all my efforts towards building a freelance writing business. But on the other hand, I've never operated my own business and there is still so much more to do.

What if, after all my efforts, some obscure legal thing pops up and I lose what little ground I have gained? I'm not letting this deter me; after all, time and experience has taught me I was born to be an entrepreneur. Still, it worries the heck out of me.

Do I need a business plan? Do I need a lawyer? Should I register with the Better Business Bureau? What, if any, should my logo be? Am I writing too much or not enough? Are my services valuable? Who the heck do I think I am, anyways?

I keep telling myself: Nothing ventured, nothing gained. I do believe in this ideal. Same goes for "Carpe Diem." But, like everyone else, I am just looking for some security. I truly, truly wish I had the same capacity other people do, to align myself with a company as a paid employee. But, many jobs later and differing industries later, the only constant is that gnawing anger in the pit of my stomach that develops when I see a screw up get accolades while my efforts go unrecognized. Or having to partake in small office talk, and deferentially listen to people drone on and on in a one-sided manner about their lives. Ha, kind of like I'm doing here, except I give the reader (if there are any) the power and freedom to choose; stay and read, or go.

I'm somewhat stuck between seeking false security or forging ahead and damn it all. Normally I'd go for damn it all without hesitation, but now things have changed. There are aspects of this life I actually want to hold on to. Not necessarily where I currently live, but people I've met, relationships that have formed and so on give me pause.

Walking a middle path isn't easy for me. Previous incarnations of my life were always without tenets. I could easily pull up stakes and move to another city (or leave the country), pursue a different line of work (but nothing sleazy), or just plain disappear. It's a good thing I'm not such a non-entity anymore. And yet...there are consequences to my actions. Support. Expectations. Advice. Always lingering above; the questions.

I sincerely hope I'm on the right track.

Resurfacing

To capture what I'm currently feeling, let me start this blog entry with a narrative no-no. I haven't much felt like writing lately. That much is obvious. I haven't felt like doing much of anything related to pursuing my goals and dreams, really.

I once heard somewhere (a sardonic quip in a sit-com, probably) that growing up means watching your dreams die. Depressing thought, huh. It's also the overriding thought I've been fighting for a couple of months now.

Every day, I try to do something to inch myself closer to my goals; apply for a job in the publishing industry here, organize my creative writing there. Since my dismissal in December I've since given up the lofty goal of finding another editorial assistant position (they're very rare in South Florida) and taken to applying for administrative assistant jobs. I hate admin jobs. I hate secretarial jobs. They're non-essential, and I feel lower self-worth by even applying for them. As for interviews; I haven't gotten even that far yet.

My freelance business is at a standstill too, due in part to me. I had one or two prospective clients "take an interest," but hell, I'm new at this game. It seems to me people these days want to hear what you'll charge them before they even tell you what they're hiring you for. Can't really blame them, but as I found out after I was "selected" to edit, proof, and submit a dissertation before being paid a whopping $125.00 (I didn't do it, it was a fucking scam), it's easy to expect labor for little to nothing compensation in return. Stupid greedy banks. THANKS FOR THE RECESSION.

I'm watching everyone around me boast and gloat about a semester full of "A's" while I can't finance one class. 16 credits, people. That's all I need to graduate from college. Everyone around me seems to be moving on, moving up and moving out.

There's a lesson in all this, and it's not "hone your self-pity to razor-sharpness." I just needed to get all that drivel out. Change is the only constant, and my current situation is not a death sentence. By going through what doesn't work, I come closer to what does. I do need to have discipline if I'm going to run my own business. The fruit of my labor is immediate gratification or continued stagnation, depending entirely on the strength of my forward momentum.

Having genuine love and support is the one x-factor I didn't have before. The success factor. My loved ones keep telling me I'm not alone in this. For once in my life, I'm actually starting to believe it. That, and the genuine positive feedback of strangers.

Many "start your own business" -type books mention bootstrapping to start a seed fund. I used to roll my eyes at this; like who would invest in me? Turns out, a few people. Ideas are forming, and they're not at ALL bad.

Since I started writing this post, inspiration has struck again and again. Writing for me is a creative compulsion; my fire. If it hadn't been for Brian telling me last night I hadn't written a blog post since February, who knows how much longer I'd be in a non-creative slump?

Sometimes a little push is all one needs. Amazing; I participated in a Karma experiment yesterday where that was one of the things I offered; look how quickly it came back to me.

Back to the lab!

Why envy is dangerous

It's hard to indulge in describing my life's pattern so far without being self-indulgent. The heck with it.

I'm not one of those people who say they're special; I am special. I always have been. Special, different, odd, pick an adjective. What's even odder is how my abilities have seemingly only served to deter me, not move me forward.

I guess the proper title to this post should be "ignorance is bliss."

I think back on the most recent events; how my divergent career path led me to getting ousted from a job I practically bled for, and how now; I'm kind of stuck. It seems at many times I have been left with no other choice than to assume an independent role of leadership. This, of course, is self-induced.

It is a lonely, uncharted path. All I can do is try at one thing, fail, and hope I learned my lesson enough to move on. It's also difficult to look at the support and ease with which others achieve the things I've striven so hard to accomplish for myself, and have yet to complete. It's easy to get discouraged, and I do get discouraged.

But I'm being true to myself, and that brings me happiness. Even if I don't get recognition, even if others look at me and secretly think they are better in some way, I am free. I am free to struggle and lose on my own terms. I am free to learn humility through the love and support of my friends.

Even in my failures, I celebrate the accomplishment of not having given in and taken the easy route. I just wonder at the current state of things, and what will become of me as a result.

Streaming

Suicidal ghost blog write create now if I don't what will happen when will I happen will it happen why do I want it to and other people scrutinize hard and I come up empty the waiting hurts the most hoping not wanting to the power they have and you don't when all I want to do is ask them if they're happy if they think this is the way their life was going to end up and if they're happy with it.

Create for the sake of creation here now doing it running with it the ball in the hall the boy destroy poetry floetry stand back so the minds can attack now now today don't delay advertising evil women blond submissive no more now people can be people and what would society be without the monetary system doesn't it stand to reason we developed this way because we were supposed to?

I miss my friends sometimes and sometimes not I want to break free from this freedom and call them from Istanbul to tell them I found the relic and took the pic and the genie popped out and granted my wish and now I understand Stephen Hawking finally math makes sense and the order out of chaos the phrase what he said what Brian said random pattern I love it it's chaos and chaos means order natural order things go where they should and I should be on top.

Anachronistic morning

My musical mood at present.
Clicking on the above link will navigate away from this post. Feel free to come back after listening.

I guess it started when I watched PBS's version of Wuthering Heights. There is just no way to be an audience to that work and not be affected. So haunting, so beautiful, and so fraught with turmoil.

The star-crossed lovers theme stuck with me. I invariably found myself thinking about Shakespeare (I haven't read any of his stuff for a while). Romeo and Juliet sneaked its way into my head, and so did Othello and what happened to poor Desdemona.

Of course, in musical companionship was period music going back, back, back... Tristan and Isolde. The Changelings refused to get out of my head so I finally dusted off a $15 iTunes certificate and purchased some.

The Changelings, by the way, deserve their own post. I can only express how much they inspire me to write by audibly shifting reality. They make me smell the scented heat of dancing by the fire.

Many stories were written, it seems, about knights pining over ladies they could never have due to honor. I have yet to come across any, but Bronte's work sure comes damn close to capturing that intangible quality. Such all-consuming devotion and destruction, sublime and debased, does that even exist anymore?

I can only think on it.

Fascinating...

I just love ancient culture. Although this is very sad news, it really peaks my interest:

Ancient tribe becomes extinct.

I woke up tired. I hate it when that happens, and have the early morning leaf blower in my neighborhood to thank me by causing noise pollution at 7:00 am.

Being from New York has inured me to a certain level of noise. Unfortunately, I fell asleep with the windows open. After all, it was a nice, breezy night. All I know is if it can wake me up, it must surely bug others.

I hate leaf blowers. HATE em.

Ingenuity

Last night while at a media marketing networking event, I felt completely out of my depth, but in a happy way. I thought how I'd like to own the very same sense of accomplishment these people carry about.

This, by the way, was the first time I've ever publicly represented myself as a freelance writer with professional services to offer (no no, not THOSE kind of services).

My first foray into marketing my fledgling company was abysmal. No worries. I was expecting to have no clue how to present myself. I went there to observe and learn.

I have no business cards (but found out where I can get 100 printed for 8 bucks). I have no brand or logo... I don't need to continue.

Well, this got me thinking about how I would want to present myself. How do I want my company to stand out? What can I develop that I'll be able to not only live with, but be proud of?

I learned something new about myself then. I love it when that happens; when you surprise yourself. This hasn't happened to me in a long time.

What really stops me in my tracks and say "WOW" is ingenuity.

This is why I dig Dada, pop, and guerrilla art. This is why I admire Andy Warhol, Spencer Tunick, Lichtenstein and Keith Haring. Don't even get me started on Banksy; he's in a class by himself.

Music, art, food, mechanics, philosophy and science (to name a few); that's the common thread. The invention of the paper clip, Isaiah Zagar's glass mosaic walls, the way South American pre-Columbian empires devised a system of relay runners to disseminate news as quickly as modern mail does.

The catalyst was www.Weburbanist.com, where I meandered to this morning.

Can't wait to see what else I uncover!

Woman 1, technology 0

Woo hoo! I figured out how to find the unique Google html code verification string and posted it to my new business site all on my own! I now eagerly anticipate the lovely "you are verified" message. Bring on the writeher.com emails!

Yeah, exactly.

I hope no one asks me anything complicated now, like what time the midnight matinee starts.

Wow, I can't believe I figured it out.

Brain wants no think now. Brain powering down for eight hour recharge. Must supply reserve power with bacon fuel for diagnostic.

All systems GO!

The adage is true, the night is darkest just before the dawn.

What started out yesterday morning as a crisis galvanized me into pursuant action. The light and support of my loved ones gave me the fuel I needed. They provided me with an inspirational spark, they listened to me freak out, and they talked me back from the precipice of an ego-driven abyss.

Starting a freelance business isn't easy. I've read countless books and sought advice from just about everyone. There is a TON of information to process, from rate sheets to which target audience to my biggest obstacle; launching my own Website.

I did a great job of overloading myself with information (and I won't bore with the details). While searching for the key missing element, I grew more and more frustrated because people made it seem so damn easy.

Then finally, yesterday I launched a blog. Talk about long overdue.

Then, so simply, the rest fell into place. I finally figured out how to host my site (for free, too). I can't express how relieved I feel! My site is just waiting for me to create and import content. THIS is the fun part!

I have a blog for my business site, too. It's empty for now, but not for long.

Yes, there are still quite a few things to get done business-wise, but that's no deterrent. I am looking forward to it.

I love it when things come together!

My first publishing job

When a friend gasped in disbelief after I told her, I realized I hadn't told many people I was fired from my editorial assistant position in December.

Since I'm liberated from the grammatical and stylistic constraints of my ex-job, I'll write informally.

So yes, I was fired from the job I was so proud of in December, pretty much right after Brian and I came back from our week-long vacation traveling about north Florida. It was one of the best weeks of my life.

It's not easy to contain my chagrin at my past employer. If some involuntarily seeps out, oh well. I'm only human.

I'm not writing this entry to air out my discontent. I just realized I hadn't really made it public knowledge. Shrug.

I also wanted to start chronicling my current and future steps; namely finishing college (16 credits to go), applying enough self-discipline to get my business off the ground, and such.

Change is the only constant.

Rollercoaster

Enough freaking out about whether or not I should, could, or can't. This, or course, doesn't mean I'm not going through the terror/elation/stomach butterflies that accompany posting my thoughts for the world to see.

It started this morning when I posted a journal entry on Facebook. Actually no, that's a misnomer. My reticence towards publishing ANYTHING has been firmly affixed to my psyche for a long time. Fear of judgment, perhaps, or told I'm full of it and should go back to answering phones.

Well, something like that actually did end up happening, in the worst-case scenario kind of way. See, I had been circumventing publishing my writing, and putting up roadblocks where I should have been removing obstacles. Do research, post on Facebook and see if anyone responds, that sort of thing.

Of course my "controlled" experiment failed miserably, and there it was, proof positive I'm ineffectual. Wow, the magnitude of my self-pity knows no bounds, and how simple the solution to these kinds of self-induced crises usually are!

Perfectly conveying sublime writing for ingestion by a faceless audience is a great enough barrier to scare the crap out of even the bravest of us, and needlessly so. The same damn thing happened to someone very close and dear to me yesterday. The same way I hoped I helped them, a friend today helped me. Funny how sure I was when I offered guidance, then wasn't able recall that same advice.

It's so simple. I write just because I love to.

I've been at it for ten minutes now and can happily report I haven't imploded yet. Instead, I followed my own damn advice and it liberated me.