REPUBLICANS SWEPT IT ANYWAY: I think it's really important to vote. I think it's a privilege that should not be taken lightly or for granted. I think about countries, and particularly women in those countries, that have spent decades in a virtual state of war fighting for that right. But yesterday, I forgot was election day. I know, I know....how is that possible considering we have all been bombarded with advertisements via every type of media outlet not to mention the volunteers (all Democrats!!) taking the time to walk around the City, many times in the freezing rain, to remind me to vote...well, reminding me to vote straight up Democratic, of course. Anyway, I woke up ready to go. It was one of the first thing on my mind. Then the day got away from me. Next thing I know it's about 5:30PM and the door bell rings. Another volunteer reminding me to vote. Oh shit!! So, about an hour later, we finish up dinner and I ask my husband for the keys to his truck. Gotta go vote. But no, he doesn't have the truck. His friend borrowed it. Undeterred I walk to what used to be the location where I voted. Nothing but darkness. Either the democrats already gave up, or I have the wrong location. I walk back home, google "where to vote" (since I, of course, left my phone at home so I couldn't find out while I was still out) to find out that yes, the voting location changed. So, I head out into the night once again, proudly cast my vote and hoof it back home once again. Here's the thing: the democrats didn't take it but I'm still glad I spent those couple of hours making it a point to voice my opinion. At the end of the day, I do think it matters. I really do.
BOO HOO FOR ME: I have been submitting my first novel to book agents since 2011 and yup, you guessed it...nothing. I keep telling myself that there are thousands, maybe tens of thousands wanna-be authors trying as well. Probably trying harder than I do. BUT...it still takes its toll. It's analogous to job hunting: you submit your book query, you submit your resume and if you're lucky you get an automated email response stating your query/resume was received and that's pretty much it. You send email after email out into the black, endless abyss and, honestly, it would be much better to even be rejected. Because let me tell ya...being outright ignored on a regular basis chips away at you a little bit at a time. As I said I've been at this for years but one big thing has changed: now when I submit my query or my resume, when I hit the "send" option, I feel a little bit better because for the first time ever I have a new puppy curled up on my feet under my desk. Somehow it makes it easier for me to handle.
THE HEADLINES SHOULD READ: "NURSE WHO HIRES CIVIL RIGHTS ATTORNEY TO FIGHT QUARANTINE IS A DOUCHE": Are you freakin' kidding me? So, this nurse travels to West Africa to treat folks who are destitute, sick, living in abysmal conditions, some dying alone in the streets, because of this of-biblical-proportions deadly disease. She travels back home and is so upset at being inconvenienced for a couple of weeks TO MAKE SURE A DEADLY ILLNESS THAT IS TURNING INTO A PLAQUE-LIKE EPIDEMIC does not spread and the self-centered, narcissistic bitch hires an attorney....HIRES AN ATTORNEY...claiming her civil rights have been violated since she is being held against her will. SERIOUSLY? Wait...let's back up a minute. I referred to her as "narcissistic" and that's not quite accurate. When my sister is planning on visiting me and gets the flu and can no longer visit me and all I think is about how bummed I am that the weekend I was looking forward to was ruined and not about her feeling better..well, that's narcissism. This stupid bitch takes it to a whole new level. The little vein on the right side of my neck is pulsing as I write this so forgive me if it is a bit all over the place but let's get started:
She is privileged enough to be a US citizen, living in a country where other people are traveling to be treated for this disease. If you are lucky enough to be in the USA when you are infected with Ebola...you might actually have a shot at not dying. Compared to say, Africa, our treatment of this disease, the care we can provide and the doctors caring for you are top-of-the-line, world-class. Not to mention members of the CDC and the US government working around the clock to do their best to contain this. So sorry Nurse Bitch that you are missing your kids and your favorite Thursday night programs but we are just protecting the world from something that might be, maybe, just a tad more important than your comfort.
And, while I'm at it...let's talk about comfort. This woman just returned from treating patients in Africa. The folks there are being treated in make-shift tents and literally withering to their deaths alone in the hot african sun. You think maybe they miss their kids too? You think maybe they are a bit inconvenienced as well? What shocks me more than anything is that she personally witnessed what is going on in Africa, what this disease is doing to people and the only thing she can do is complain? Shouldn't she be deeply grateful that she is one of the lucky ones being treated here, one of the lucky ones who is going to be ensured that she is not sick...and by extension her family and loved ones will also not get sick, and on & on.
The only appropriate reaction she should be having is gratitude. And, if their are kinks in the system, if she feels her quarantine is extreme and unnecessary, if she thinks too many resources are being devoted to her when she feels, as an experienced nurse who has seen this disease, treated this disease and has tested negative twice for this disease that she truly is okay...well, maybe her next step isn't hiring a fucking civil rights attorney. Maybe her next step is to be part of the solution not the problem. Maybe she should help the people helping her by suggesting other solutions, by submitting feedback on her treatment so far in the US and how it can be improved upon so other folks do not have to follow in her footsteps. The CDC, the doctors, the nurses, the US government are doing the best they can. So thank them, help them, offer what is probably your valuable insight and most of all remember those who are not lucky enough to walk in your shoes. And another thing, don't you dare consider yourself a civil rights victim. Have you been discriminated against for being a minority? Has your child been spit on for being gay? Have you been denied employment for your religious beliefs? Yeah, I didn't think so. And when it comes to being separated from your family...well, fucking boo-hoo to you. Your family is safe. You are safe. You are in the same country, on the same soil and will be reunited in like 5 minutes. How dare you complain about not being able to see your family? What about families torn apart in North and South Korea, having to live their whole lives apart only hoping to see each other once every decade through a glass window due to political unrest? What about moms who miss their sons and daughters because they are off at war? Or immigrants who spend years apart desperately trying to gain access to their families' countries? Now, those are people separated form their families. So once again, don't you dare put yourself in that category. You should be ashamed of yourself. And we should all be embarrassed that this is the type of American we are showing the world. Now go out, bye yourself a journal, start writing every day about how fucking fortunate you and your family are and stop wasting everyone's time with your bullshit. This is literally a life or death situation for thousands of people. Shut up and let those who want to help instead of being an obstacle do their jobs. And say thank you like your mom taught you.
SO HERE'S THE THING: I was having a conversation with a woman who, for arguments sake, let's just say lives a comfortable lifestyle. Or, a very comfortable lifestyle. Alright...fuck it...the bitch is rich. Anyway, she somehow brought up that her child is going away to camp for a few weeks and how much stuff they have to pack. Now recently, a couple of my girlfriends have also mentioned how much stuff they have to pack for camp for their children. Okay, in the first scenario we are talking about sleep-away camp and in the latter day camp but the basic idea was how astounding it is what these children need. Before I go downhill explaining unnecessary details about this story I'll bottom line it: the rich lady told her child that, when camp ends, there was no reason to pack everything up. She could just leave it behind and they will buy everything new again next year. I'm not talking about a toothbrush, or soap...I'm talking about a comforter, pillows, clothing, sheets, random toiletries, shoes, organizational bins. I mean, is this the message that should be sent to a child? Everything is disposable? No appreciation of what things cost, what others may not have not to mention the fact that leaving a whole room full of shit for someone else to clean up...yeah, not so good. I'm sure this kid will turn out to be just lovely.
I HATE: People that hold their enormous closed umbrellas horizontally instead of vertically so I am almost disembowled walking behind them exiting the subway stairs. People that say supposably instead of supposedly and actually make use of the faux-word irregardless. People that have to search for their wallet after they've been waiting in line for several minutes. I mean, you have time to prepare. What did you think was gonna happen when it was your turn at the cash-register? All high school kids. I hate them all. No exceptions. People that are short-tempered with their dog. I mean, you have to go out of your way to bring a dog into your life. It cannot happen accidently. You can accidently have a child, so I understand being short tenpered in that situation. But, a dog? Come on. People that espouse their political opinions after they've gathered their information from the NY Daily News or Fox. That now people use the word "actor" for both males and females. There are no longer "actors" and "actresses". Why? Actors or actresses who once played a character and that character becomes their identity. Like Kim Cattrall who played the sexy and sex-crazed Samantha Jones on HBO's Sex and the City wrote a book on having better sex. Just like Sarah Jessica Parker become synonymous with fashion, even opened her own clothing line, although it was her Sex in the City character, Carrie Bradshaw, who was the fashion diva...not her. Steven Segal as a real-life law enforcement officer. I really, really can't take it. All reality TV programs, people who are on reality TV programs, people who produce reality TV programs, networks that play reality TV shows, products that sponsor reality TV shows, etc., etc., etc. Toe cleavage and camel toe....saw one woman on the train this AM who was guilty of both. People that negotiate with their two year old child. Just stand your ground for Christ's sake. People who are famous for being famous. That NYC's new douchbag mayor is now requiring that people recycle their compost. I'm stopping now because my grumpiness is overwhelming me.
DISORIENTATION REPEAT: It happened again. That feeling of complete disorientation and disconnection to where I am. I guess it just goes to show you how far away I am from "living in the moment". In all fairness, this episode was really not that crazy considering I had only been at this particular temp job for a day and a half. This is what I am talking about: It was only day #2 of me working at a Public Relations firm in midtown Manhattan (think very modern version of Mad Men). I decided to go outside for my lunch break and treat myself to a snack. I purchased a Vita Water and experienced some quick heart palpitations when I was charged $2.75. I seriously thought the cashier made a mistake. I mean, two dollars and seventy five cents for a freakin' flavored water!?!? Am I really that out of touch? I figured the next logical step would be to throw away some more cash on a magazine. After exiting a local Duane Reade (which occupied almost an entire city block and had it's own to-go lunch section) I stepped back out into the sunlight and well, had absolutely no idea of which tremendous office building I was working at. They really all kind of look the same. I ventured into one that looked about right but something seemed off with the lobby. I asked the security guy if there was another entrance. He assured me there was not. Of more concern was that I was unable to remember the address of the building or the name of the firm. Let me defend myself a little bit here: even though I was working for a PR firm, the work I was doing was for one of their clients, so that was the only name I was familiar with. This was a sticky situation to be in because it would look pretty bad if I called the temp agency that assigned me to this gig and asked them to remind me where I was working today. I feel like that might send the wrong message. Then I remembered it was in some email the agency sent me a week before. So, I Nancy Drewed it and got my ass back to that miserable little cubicle ASAP.
WOMEN OF A CERTAIN AGE: May 5, 2014 is a day that will, unfortunately, be burned into my memory. I scored a super-discounted teeth-cleaning through Groupon ($39) and was feeling pretty good on my D-train ride into the West Village to redeem it. This particular coupon included a cheapo x-ray and a dental consultation. The hygienist was surprisingly thorough and the cleaning itself was uneventful. Until. Until, during my 30 second consultation with the actual dentist I was informed that those cheapo x-rays were actually good enough to identify a problem: signs of bone loss. Bone loss! Bone loss? Considering one of my few goals in life is to die with my original teeth in my mouth I was disheartened to say the least. What can I do to prevent this from getting worse? Nutrition? Vitamins? There must be some fancy, non-FDA approved mouth wash that I can throw money away on. But no, Mr. Dentist informed me I should just be more diligent with flossing and not to be too concerned because it is common for WOMEN OF MY AGE. Yeah, so May 5, 2014 is the first time a doctor used the WOMEN OF A CERTAIN AGE line as a reason my physical body is going downhill. Certainly, I am too young for that, no? I really wasn't expecting that for a few years. I hate him.
DISORIENTATION: Once upon a time - a far away time - I was working at a law firm in the financial district in downtown Manhattan. I scored another job.....at a university...a bit further north making it so that I had to take the train a little bit further up the line. I had been working at this new job for a couple of weeks and had just gotten into the routine of it, the niche where you no longer really have to be conscious of the choices you make while you're commuting. You become a robot, no longer really making choices about what train to switch to, what staircase to use, etc. Your body is just programmed to get from point A to point B. I know this sounds scary but not as scary who people who know what I'm talking about but are driving cars. Anyway, one morning I took the train to my former job...getting off at the old train station, walking up the old staircase, walking down the old block. I made it as far as the front doors of the law firm before I realized I did not work there anymore. Disorienting. Well, I had a very similar occurrence just a few minutes ago. As a temp, one of the things I did recently was to sign up some of the other employees for an upcoming conference which I did about a week ago. As I was tooling around the conference website trying to locate an answer to a question a staff member asked me, as if I saw this for the first time, it caught my attention that the conference was taking place in NYC. NYC! Oh my God! Was I supposed to arrange travel? What about accommodations? I made it to one of the directors' offices to ask a superior what was being done about travel arrangement? Fortunately, the particular director I was waiting to speak with was on the phone. She motioned for me to wait a minute and thank God I did wait that minute because that is when it dawned on me: we are in NYC. Not in Brazil and not in Massachusetts. I told the director not to worry about it....I figured out the problem all on my own. Is this a sign of some neurological issue or does it just mean that I need to be settled?
NO, I WILL NOT CALL YOU MS. RUTH: I spend lots of time answering the phone at this new temp gig and I really do try to go out of my way to be helpful. See, a temp gig job basically means you are placed in a position for short period of time to help out. And with that comes a certain freedom: you can help out, do anything that will make the staff's day easier or help the organization to run a tad bit more smoothly for a minute..and you don't have to worry about setting precedent. See, when you start a new job, you have to make sure you protect your time, protect your duties and make sure all of the shit that nobody else wants to do doesn't get dumped on you. You have to spend a lot of time setting boundaries. But, as a temp, you could do anything, should do anything to be productive: sure, you want me to have extra keys made, buy you lunch, drop off & pick up packages, pick up the cockroach in the boys' bathroom? Sure, no problem. But no, I will not put a Ms. before your first name. That I will not do.
A random woman called today and introduced herself as Ms. Ruth. I assumed that was her last name until a few minutes into the conversation (of which I was, if I do say so myself, going above & beyond to help her out) when I asked her email address and realized Ruth was actually her first name. She just threw a Ms. in front of it. And her last name was super-simple...something like Jones...so this was not to make things easier. I wonder if she is schizophrenic and this personality is a 1940s southern plantation owner who thinks I am working the fields. Then, I understand. But, barring that, no...I'm not referring to you as Ms. Ruth. So, for the next several minutes of the conversation, I kept calling her "Ruth" and she kept referring to herself as "Ms. Ruth". It was like this little tug of war, little battle of the wills. As I write this I realize that makes me about as crazy as she seems to be. But point is: I won! I hung up, getting in the last words: "Have a great day, Ruth!".
Yes, these little victories are what my life has become.
TEMP GIG DOUCHE BAG FOLLOW UP: Here's an email I sent which sums it all up:
IT'S BEEN A WHILE: I kind of get it now how my sister and lots of my friends feel like they are pressed for time. Truth be told whenever anyone said that I always kind of doubted it. I mean, really, how busy can you be? Well...being thrust back into the NYC commuter world of Mondays through Fridays I am quite frankly exhausted. And I have no time. And it's only been a week. After about a year of traveling I knew returning to any sort of adult responsibility would be a wake up call. But this is just harsh because it's also been just shy of a decade since I've had to rely on NYC public transportation and a year since I've has a commitment to a real, big-girl full time job. After relocating out of NYC, I no longer had commute issues at work. I would walk, or drive for 3 minutes. Not so much anymore. I am on the train by 6:25Am, get to work at 7:45Am, leave at 4:PM and get home at 5:30PM. And by then I am shot. The job I am doing now is in no way demanding it's just that it seems to eat up my whole day. And this is how most people live. Am I just a princess? Am I just a sloth? Or is this legitimately tough? I don't have much time to do anything anymore. Where did all the hours go spent blogging, reading, writing, researching easy macaroon recipes? I'll tell you where they went. They got eaten up by this carnivorous and ruthless city. But I have made time to take up a new hobby: trying to make it through my entire commute without having to physically touch another person. These people gross me out.
HE SAID SHE SAID: I got this gig where for a few weeks I will be working in a school for children with special needs. The building I am located in actually has three different schools, and of course, as I walk through the hallways on a daily basis I see lots of student/teacher interaction. One, in particular, stuck out in my mind: a teacher was asking her class of, I guess, 2nd graders, to line up against opposite sides of the hallway per gender. Girls on the right. Boys on the left. I remember being told to do that when I was a little kid. But, as I watched, this time I was thinking about how in the next few years (or decades) as gender identity is no longer considered black or white the way it was when I was a child, teachers will probably no longer be able to divide children along gender lines. People are finally beginning to recognize that regarding gender, people do not fall into neat, little categories but instead are somewhere on the spectrum of sexuality. Sure, there are traditional heterosexuals and lesbians and gays but there are also folks who identify as transgender, queer, bisexual or asexual and, it turns out, there are dozens maybe hundreds of categories that I have never even heard of. So asking a little boy who actually identifies as a little girl to line up with the rest of the little boys is just not going to work out. The simple thing is, sure, to just add some more language, add some more categories and add sexuality to the list of things that we have to be politically correct about. Good. Fine. But, it's not nearly that simple. It is easy for countries, such as ours, where English is the main language. Easy because English is one of the languages that does not assign gender to inanimate objects - it is only assigned to people. But, what about the romance language? What about Spanish, or French or Italian? I know, in Portuguese, for example a "flower" is assigned a female pronoun while a "truck" is assigned a male pronoun. The implications and ramifications of how deeply ingrained gender roles go in a society is jaw-dropping. Gender roles are so woven into the fabric of vocabularies, and by extension culture, cannot even fathom how such languages will evolve. There is even a school in Sweden that does not use "her" or "him" in pursuit of a goal of not pushing gender agendas. And, my much-more-intelligent-than-me-sister took a research methodology class in her graduate program last year which focuses mostly on survey taking. When collecting data, surveyors and sociologists are moving in the direction of no longer asking individuals to fill in either a male or female field when completing the gender question Moving forward, you will begin to see questionnaires that do not outright ask your sex but instead ask what sex you identify with. If, for example, you are physically and girl but emotionally and psychologically identify with more traditional male characteristics, you would indicated male. And, who is determining what characteristics are assigned to women or men? No doubt a much more accurate indicator but very complicated
ON THE OTHER HAND: So, as you know, I've been doing this temp. gig thing, being hooked up with an agency that plugs me into various jobs as they become available. So far, I have been extremely lucky. I found a great agency that not only has been helping me make money but has been truly invaluable offering resume tips, interviewing advice and so on. But, one of the best things by far is that I have been able to work in different settings, different locations and with different people I would never have had the chance to meet before. Maybe, like me, you often hear that it's good to push yourself "outside your comfort zone". And like many brief, cliche, fortune-cookie pieces of advice that is really great except it doesn't always translate into the real world. Kind of like "don't sweat the small stuff". Yeah, I know the fact that I just got a flat tire is not the end of the world but that doesn't stop me RIGHT NOW from wanting to blow up my car. Or when I am stressed about something and someone tells me "just don't worry about it." Oh! Okay! You mean what I have been worrying about I should just stop worrying about? Genius! Now it's all better. So, getting back to the "pushing yourself outside the comfort zone thing". It's not always easy, practical or affordable. As an adult how often do you get to try a new job, just for a while, for the pure experience? Usually, when you take a job you have to take into account how it will work in the context of your life...is the money enough long term, can I handle the commute, do I even like this industry? As a temp. you get to sample different jobs like a buffet - taking what you want and not having to commit to any one thing. You have the chance to make money while an entire agency is focusing on how you are going to make more money when this job is over. You can have a job while someone else searches for more jobs for you. Win-win, right? Pretty much.
On the other hand, if you do have to deal with douchebags once in a while. And surprise, surprise, I have an example for you. After answering an ad for a part-time temp job on Craigslist it turned out I was, unbeknownst to me, contacting another temp. agency. From the beginning the woman seemed pretty unprofessional to say the least. First of all, she had difficulty explaining to me that she actually worked for a temp. agency and not the actual employer for the job I thought I was applying for. I agreed to meet with her anyway because I was really interested in the job. She wound up canceling our interview twice because she claimed she had the flu and turns out I lost the chance for that job because she didn't forward my name along and they filled the position in her absence. Here's where we switch places and I become the douche, because I agreed to meet with her anyway. The office was pretty much what I expected...in disarray, no one to meet me when I came in and, in person, this woman (we'll call her DB) looked like she just woke up from a nap. But my whole opinion turned around because not more than 20 minutes later I walked out of there with a temporary full time job, in a great location, easy commute and not a bad per hour wage. On the train ride home I was contacted by the temp. agency I really liked, the one I had been dealing with and turns out they found me another gig. I didn't know much about it other than that it would pay at least $4 more per hour. But, since I already agreed to the other job I turned it down. Bummer.
The next afternoon, I am contacted by DB who informs me that I have to complete a test in Excel, and I have to do it within the next hour or so. So, because I only have access to a Mac, I run from family member to family member to find a PC to try to download the stupid test. It does occur to me that this is a bit bizarre since she didn't ask me anything about my skill set but I was not concerned because I am pretty advanced when it comes to that database. I used two different computers to try to complete the test but something was wrong with the testing software, I think, because once in a while it would just jump to the next question without my even answering it. Again, I was not too concerned. I called DB back to tell her that I complete the test and before I could get a word in she says, "Yeah, Hi Carla...you lost that job. You didn't do well enough on the test." I start to explain and she cuts me off and says "Well, there's nothing I could do now that you completed the test and I cannot call anyone with your excuses".
I was, obviously, upset that not only did I lose this job but that I turned down the other one at more money per hour because of her. But, what I was most upset with was myself: I thought I had outgrown the phase where I let people treat me like that. I was surprised and disappointed in myself that I did not respond to her curt response to me during our last phone call. So, now I'm left with doing the corwardly thing which is writing her an email or writing her supervisor an email about my experience with their agency. I feel like I cannot just let this go but I cannot believe I let that happen!
Anyway...turns out later that same afternoon, I wound up with another job for more money also starting right away. Maybe things do work out the way they are supposed to. Maybe some things are just not meant to be. Maybe sometimes I have to take to heart and listen to these brief, cliche, fortune-cookie pieces of advice.
Please share with me a time when you felt you were treated unfairly. Come on, we all have a story like that. How did you handle it? Did it change the way you handled situations or people like that in the future? I would LOVE to hear from you!
HERE'S TODAY:
Since sometimes a picture can wrap things up better than words, I did a google image search on FUCK THIS which produced a variety of pics that would have worked. I went with the above. However, I also inadvertently stumbled upon the below website which gave me a much needed giggle:
WHAT A DIFFERENCE A DAY DOESN'T MAKE: I'm being paid to do nothing. In two days of this temp. position I have done a total of 30 minutes of solid, actual work and that's being generous. Don't be jealous though because I am confident there is a 10 year old girl in China who makes more than me at her factory job. So, I've spent the last two days like this:
NY State of Mind (not so much): It's been a while, a long while, since I've done the NYC commuter thing. I guess I'd gotten enough distance from it that I started to romanticize it, sugarcoat it. I tend to do that with things: ex-boyfriends, ex-employers, cookies. I was feeling pretty peppy as I bounced up the first staircase to the subway. But then the women in front of me let the door slam in my face. Undeterred, I swiped my Metrocard and made my way up the second staircase. But then the guy in front of me let the door slam in my face. No seat on the train. Squished between a man eating sausage with his bare hands and another who smelled strongly, very strongly of onions. As my eyes stung and my nose twitched the memories came flooding back to me. This blows.
Luckily, it only took one train to get to my Rockerfeller Center stop for my first temp. gig and as I emerged onto the sidewalk and into the fresh air I started to feel better. I got in a good two steps when I fell. I must have tripped over my own bad attitude and I was left looking like I was trying to belly-crawl my way up sixth avenue. Lying there, arms askew and outstretched, hat knocked off, bag thrown several feet in front in front of me just out of reach like my pride. Fortunately, my forehead protected me front the full impact of the blow. It was a bunch of pro-life picketers that came to my aide. I wonder if they knew we were not morally aligned if they would have helped me anyway.
I spent the next eight hours wondering how much further down my thigh my stocking rip would go and filling in for a receptionist whose desk was cluttered with weight loss and cat lovers magazines and whose drawers hid all sorts of chocolates. No issues there.
Can't wait for tomorrow.
SELF-IMPROVEMENT: At a family gathering last night, I happened to mention that I provide my one and only sibling with Progress Reports to let her know how she is doing as my big sister throughout the year. The Progress Reports can be mailed to her as frequently as quarterly and as little as once a year (I've missed a couple here & there), although I think the more often the better since it gives her ample time to make improvements. She gets rated on various categories from generosity to support to accessibility to patience to gift-giving to show of interest in my life to overall attitude. I think it makes things easier for both of us. Like, for example, if she does something that annoys me, I can easily refer back to Progress Reports so she can become aware of whether or not her behavior is a pattern. And, for her, it's a chance for self-improvement which, hey, aren't we all supposed to be pursuing anyway? Really, it's a win/win situation for both of us. Feel free to go ahead and apply Progress Reports to your own family and friends. At the most, it will greatly improve your relationship. At the worst, they will be very insulted (a reaction that completely alludes me) which only points out the first flaw they have to work on: self-awareness. God, I mean sometimes people are so clueless.
SOMETIMES WORDS FAIL ME: It is probable that my vocabulary is so woefully elemental that there are words in the English language that I could make good use of it I knew they existed. Let's start with vocabulary I find lacking in the romantic/sexuality category. I mean, isn't it ridiculous for grown women and men to have to use the words boyfriend and girlfriend? Could we come up with other words that make it clear these folks are actually no longer in high school? And what about kissing? There are dozens of types of kisses: the kiss you give your grandmother, the full-blown make out (hopefully not with your grandmother), a kiss of condolences, a kiss of friendship. Let's borrow some from the Eskimos who have lots of words for kisses ...and even more for "snow" ranging from "tlapripta" (snow that burns your scalp and eyelids), and the adorable, "tlarin" (snow that can be sculpted into the delicate corsages Eskimo girls pin to their whale parkas at prom time). How about "heavy-petting"? Come on people!! And are we so lazy that instead of inventing a word for divorced wives and husbands we just through an "ex" in front of them? And, while I'm at it, how about the word "miss"? Why do we use the same word to convey a train we were unable to make and how a woman feels about her husband that has been off at war for two years? Is that the best we have to offer? In Brazilian Portuguese there is a beautiful word: saudades. It means to miss with a painful longing. I like that. But, I'll tell you where the American-English language does exceed: in words describing various degrees of anger including mad, pissed-off, annoyed, agitated, enraged, infuriated, incensed, indignant, irate, irritable, cross, heated, furious, wrathful, piqued, affronted, displeased, outraged, exasperated, fuming, offended, vexed, chafed and on & on. Doesn't that say something about us? Are we okay with living in a society that inducts "Bootylicious" into our official dictionary but, say, gives us one word for "rain"? I bet the folks in Seattle would like something more descriptive.
BOO HOO FOR ME: I have been submitting my first novel to book agents since 2011 and yup, you guessed it...nothing. I keep telling myself that there are thousands, maybe tens of thousands wanna-be authors trying as well. Probably trying harder than I do. BUT...it still takes its toll. It's analogous to job hunting: you submit your book query, you submit your resume and if you're lucky you get an automated email response stating your query/resume was received and that's pretty much it. You send email after email out into the black, endless abyss and, honestly, it would be much better to even be rejected. Because let me tell ya...being outright ignored on a regular basis chips away at you a little bit at a time. As I said I've been at this for years but one big thing has changed: now when I submit my query or my resume, when I hit the "send" option, I feel a little bit better because for the first time ever I have a new puppy curled up on my feet under my desk. Somehow it makes it easier for me to handle.
THE HEADLINES SHOULD READ: "NURSE WHO HIRES CIVIL RIGHTS ATTORNEY TO FIGHT QUARANTINE IS A DOUCHE": Are you freakin' kidding me? So, this nurse travels to West Africa to treat folks who are destitute, sick, living in abysmal conditions, some dying alone in the streets, because of this of-biblical-proportions deadly disease. She travels back home and is so upset at being inconvenienced for a couple of weeks TO MAKE SURE A DEADLY ILLNESS THAT IS TURNING INTO A PLAQUE-LIKE EPIDEMIC does not spread and the self-centered, narcissistic bitch hires an attorney....HIRES AN ATTORNEY...claiming her civil rights have been violated since she is being held against her will. SERIOUSLY? Wait...let's back up a minute. I referred to her as "narcissistic" and that's not quite accurate. When my sister is planning on visiting me and gets the flu and can no longer visit me and all I think is about how bummed I am that the weekend I was looking forward to was ruined and not about her feeling better..well, that's narcissism. This stupid bitch takes it to a whole new level. The little vein on the right side of my neck is pulsing as I write this so forgive me if it is a bit all over the place but let's get started:
She is privileged enough to be a US citizen, living in a country where other people are traveling to be treated for this disease. If you are lucky enough to be in the USA when you are infected with Ebola...you might actually have a shot at not dying. Compared to say, Africa, our treatment of this disease, the care we can provide and the doctors caring for you are top-of-the-line, world-class. Not to mention members of the CDC and the US government working around the clock to do their best to contain this. So sorry Nurse Bitch that you are missing your kids and your favorite Thursday night programs but we are just protecting the world from something that might be, maybe, just a tad more important than your comfort.
And, while I'm at it...let's talk about comfort. This woman just returned from treating patients in Africa. The folks there are being treated in make-shift tents and literally withering to their deaths alone in the hot african sun. You think maybe they miss their kids too? You think maybe they are a bit inconvenienced as well? What shocks me more than anything is that she personally witnessed what is going on in Africa, what this disease is doing to people and the only thing she can do is complain? Shouldn't she be deeply grateful that she is one of the lucky ones being treated here, one of the lucky ones who is going to be ensured that she is not sick...and by extension her family and loved ones will also not get sick, and on & on.
The only appropriate reaction she should be having is gratitude. And, if their are kinks in the system, if she feels her quarantine is extreme and unnecessary, if she thinks too many resources are being devoted to her when she feels, as an experienced nurse who has seen this disease, treated this disease and has tested negative twice for this disease that she truly is okay...well, maybe her next step isn't hiring a fucking civil rights attorney. Maybe her next step is to be part of the solution not the problem. Maybe she should help the people helping her by suggesting other solutions, by submitting feedback on her treatment so far in the US and how it can be improved upon so other folks do not have to follow in her footsteps. The CDC, the doctors, the nurses, the US government are doing the best they can. So thank them, help them, offer what is probably your valuable insight and most of all remember those who are not lucky enough to walk in your shoes. And another thing, don't you dare consider yourself a civil rights victim. Have you been discriminated against for being a minority? Has your child been spit on for being gay? Have you been denied employment for your religious beliefs? Yeah, I didn't think so. And when it comes to being separated from your family...well, fucking boo-hoo to you. Your family is safe. You are safe. You are in the same country, on the same soil and will be reunited in like 5 minutes. How dare you complain about not being able to see your family? What about families torn apart in North and South Korea, having to live their whole lives apart only hoping to see each other once every decade through a glass window due to political unrest? What about moms who miss their sons and daughters because they are off at war? Or immigrants who spend years apart desperately trying to gain access to their families' countries? Now, those are people separated form their families. So once again, don't you dare put yourself in that category. You should be ashamed of yourself. And we should all be embarrassed that this is the type of American we are showing the world. Now go out, bye yourself a journal, start writing every day about how fucking fortunate you and your family are and stop wasting everyone's time with your bullshit. This is literally a life or death situation for thousands of people. Shut up and let those who want to help instead of being an obstacle do their jobs. And say thank you like your mom taught you.
SO HERE'S THE THING: I was having a conversation with a woman who, for arguments sake, let's just say lives a comfortable lifestyle. Or, a very comfortable lifestyle. Alright...fuck it...the bitch is rich. Anyway, she somehow brought up that her child is going away to camp for a few weeks and how much stuff they have to pack. Now recently, a couple of my girlfriends have also mentioned how much stuff they have to pack for camp for their children. Okay, in the first scenario we are talking about sleep-away camp and in the latter day camp but the basic idea was how astounding it is what these children need. Before I go downhill explaining unnecessary details about this story I'll bottom line it: the rich lady told her child that, when camp ends, there was no reason to pack everything up. She could just leave it behind and they will buy everything new again next year. I'm not talking about a toothbrush, or soap...I'm talking about a comforter, pillows, clothing, sheets, random toiletries, shoes, organizational bins. I mean, is this the message that should be sent to a child? Everything is disposable? No appreciation of what things cost, what others may not have not to mention the fact that leaving a whole room full of shit for someone else to clean up...yeah, not so good. I'm sure this kid will turn out to be just lovely.
I HATE: People that hold their enormous closed umbrellas horizontally instead of vertically so I am almost disembowled walking behind them exiting the subway stairs. People that say supposably instead of supposedly and actually make use of the faux-word irregardless. People that have to search for their wallet after they've been waiting in line for several minutes. I mean, you have time to prepare. What did you think was gonna happen when it was your turn at the cash-register? All high school kids. I hate them all. No exceptions. People that are short-tempered with their dog. I mean, you have to go out of your way to bring a dog into your life. It cannot happen accidently. You can accidently have a child, so I understand being short tenpered in that situation. But, a dog? Come on. People that espouse their political opinions after they've gathered their information from the NY Daily News or Fox. That now people use the word "actor" for both males and females. There are no longer "actors" and "actresses". Why? Actors or actresses who once played a character and that character becomes their identity. Like Kim Cattrall who played the sexy and sex-crazed Samantha Jones on HBO's Sex and the City wrote a book on having better sex. Just like Sarah Jessica Parker become synonymous with fashion, even opened her own clothing line, although it was her Sex in the City character, Carrie Bradshaw, who was the fashion diva...not her. Steven Segal as a real-life law enforcement officer. I really, really can't take it. All reality TV programs, people who are on reality TV programs, people who produce reality TV programs, networks that play reality TV shows, products that sponsor reality TV shows, etc., etc., etc. Toe cleavage and camel toe....saw one woman on the train this AM who was guilty of both. People that negotiate with their two year old child. Just stand your ground for Christ's sake. People who are famous for being famous. That NYC's new douchbag mayor is now requiring that people recycle their compost. I'm stopping now because my grumpiness is overwhelming me.
DISORIENTATION REPEAT: It happened again. That feeling of complete disorientation and disconnection to where I am. I guess it just goes to show you how far away I am from "living in the moment". In all fairness, this episode was really not that crazy considering I had only been at this particular temp job for a day and a half. This is what I am talking about: It was only day #2 of me working at a Public Relations firm in midtown Manhattan (think very modern version of Mad Men). I decided to go outside for my lunch break and treat myself to a snack. I purchased a Vita Water and experienced some quick heart palpitations when I was charged $2.75. I seriously thought the cashier made a mistake. I mean, two dollars and seventy five cents for a freakin' flavored water!?!? Am I really that out of touch? I figured the next logical step would be to throw away some more cash on a magazine. After exiting a local Duane Reade (which occupied almost an entire city block and had it's own to-go lunch section) I stepped back out into the sunlight and well, had absolutely no idea of which tremendous office building I was working at. They really all kind of look the same. I ventured into one that looked about right but something seemed off with the lobby. I asked the security guy if there was another entrance. He assured me there was not. Of more concern was that I was unable to remember the address of the building or the name of the firm. Let me defend myself a little bit here: even though I was working for a PR firm, the work I was doing was for one of their clients, so that was the only name I was familiar with. This was a sticky situation to be in because it would look pretty bad if I called the temp agency that assigned me to this gig and asked them to remind me where I was working today. I feel like that might send the wrong message. Then I remembered it was in some email the agency sent me a week before. So, I Nancy Drewed it and got my ass back to that miserable little cubicle ASAP.
WOMEN OF A CERTAIN AGE: May 5, 2014 is a day that will, unfortunately, be burned into my memory. I scored a super-discounted teeth-cleaning through Groupon ($39) and was feeling pretty good on my D-train ride into the West Village to redeem it. This particular coupon included a cheapo x-ray and a dental consultation. The hygienist was surprisingly thorough and the cleaning itself was uneventful. Until. Until, during my 30 second consultation with the actual dentist I was informed that those cheapo x-rays were actually good enough to identify a problem: signs of bone loss. Bone loss! Bone loss? Considering one of my few goals in life is to die with my original teeth in my mouth I was disheartened to say the least. What can I do to prevent this from getting worse? Nutrition? Vitamins? There must be some fancy, non-FDA approved mouth wash that I can throw money away on. But no, Mr. Dentist informed me I should just be more diligent with flossing and not to be too concerned because it is common for WOMEN OF MY AGE. Yeah, so May 5, 2014 is the first time a doctor used the WOMEN OF A CERTAIN AGE line as a reason my physical body is going downhill. Certainly, I am too young for that, no? I really wasn't expecting that for a few years. I hate him.
DISORIENTATION: Once upon a time - a far away time - I was working at a law firm in the financial district in downtown Manhattan. I scored another job.....at a university...a bit further north making it so that I had to take the train a little bit further up the line. I had been working at this new job for a couple of weeks and had just gotten into the routine of it, the niche where you no longer really have to be conscious of the choices you make while you're commuting. You become a robot, no longer really making choices about what train to switch to, what staircase to use, etc. Your body is just programmed to get from point A to point B. I know this sounds scary but not as scary who people who know what I'm talking about but are driving cars. Anyway, one morning I took the train to my former job...getting off at the old train station, walking up the old staircase, walking down the old block. I made it as far as the front doors of the law firm before I realized I did not work there anymore. Disorienting. Well, I had a very similar occurrence just a few minutes ago. As a temp, one of the things I did recently was to sign up some of the other employees for an upcoming conference which I did about a week ago. As I was tooling around the conference website trying to locate an answer to a question a staff member asked me, as if I saw this for the first time, it caught my attention that the conference was taking place in NYC. NYC! Oh my God! Was I supposed to arrange travel? What about accommodations? I made it to one of the directors' offices to ask a superior what was being done about travel arrangement? Fortunately, the particular director I was waiting to speak with was on the phone. She motioned for me to wait a minute and thank God I did wait that minute because that is when it dawned on me: we are in NYC. Not in Brazil and not in Massachusetts. I told the director not to worry about it....I figured out the problem all on my own. Is this a sign of some neurological issue or does it just mean that I need to be settled?
NO, I WILL NOT CALL YOU MS. RUTH: I spend lots of time answering the phone at this new temp gig and I really do try to go out of my way to be helpful. See, a temp gig job basically means you are placed in a position for short period of time to help out. And with that comes a certain freedom: you can help out, do anything that will make the staff's day easier or help the organization to run a tad bit more smoothly for a minute..and you don't have to worry about setting precedent. See, when you start a new job, you have to make sure you protect your time, protect your duties and make sure all of the shit that nobody else wants to do doesn't get dumped on you. You have to spend a lot of time setting boundaries. But, as a temp, you could do anything, should do anything to be productive: sure, you want me to have extra keys made, buy you lunch, drop off & pick up packages, pick up the cockroach in the boys' bathroom? Sure, no problem. But no, I will not put a Ms. before your first name. That I will not do.
A random woman called today and introduced herself as Ms. Ruth. I assumed that was her last name until a few minutes into the conversation (of which I was, if I do say so myself, going above & beyond to help her out) when I asked her email address and realized Ruth was actually her first name. She just threw a Ms. in front of it. And her last name was super-simple...something like Jones...so this was not to make things easier. I wonder if she is schizophrenic and this personality is a 1940s southern plantation owner who thinks I am working the fields. Then, I understand. But, barring that, no...I'm not referring to you as Ms. Ruth. So, for the next several minutes of the conversation, I kept calling her "Ruth" and she kept referring to herself as "Ms. Ruth". It was like this little tug of war, little battle of the wills. As I write this I realize that makes me about as crazy as she seems to be. But point is: I won! I hung up, getting in the last words: "Have a great day, Ruth!".
Yes, these little victories are what my life has become.
TEMP GIG DOUCHE BAG FOLLOW UP: Here's an email I sent which sums it all up:
I was extremely disappointed with the experience I had with you and your temp organization. From the beginning, when I responded to your ad on Craigslist and then spoke with you it was confusing regarding whether I was dealing with the employer directly or a temp agency. I am not sure whether it is designed to be like that or simply if our initial communication was unclear.
I was then led to believe I missed out on a great job opportunity at NYU because you were out sick and did not forward my name along. When we finally did meet, you indicated you were impressed with my resume but did not ask me anything about a specific skill set. Within 20 minutes of our initial meeting, you offered me a three month, full time job at the NYC Law School, which did sound like a good fit. Although it was less money than I was hoping for, I was very excited that I landed a job so quickly with a great employer at what would have been an ideal location. I left that afternoon planning to start work on Monday.
On the way home I received an email from another temp agency for a job, also in a fantastic location, also for a couple of months but that started at $4 more per hour. I, of course turned down that position and postponed a freelance writing job because I had agreed to the position you offered me.
The next afternoon, at 2:30PM, I received a somewhat frantic phone call from you indicating that I needed to pass a test in Excel before the end of the day in order to be able to start this new job which you made clear was already mine. Of course, I felt that was unprofessional and pretty ridiculous but I was now in a position of weakness with no other job on the horizon, and since I consider myself at an advanced level with Excel I was not concerned. I will save you the details of my trying to get to a PC that afternoon (since I use a Mac which does not support Excel) but I do need to point out that the Excel test (which I ultimately failed) automatically moved on to several of the questions without my choosing my final answer. I did not feel it was an accurate assessment of my skill level.
Your response when I called you later that afternoon was simply, "Yeah...you lost that job." I was honestly so horrified that you rendered me speechless. The only thought that is still lingering with me is that you are the gateway for all these fantastic positions at NYU, of which it seems I will never get a temp or part time job with because I would never work with you or your agency again.
So, no, Shira, I will not consider any other positions that are forwarded to me by you. It does make me sad that I am probably letting go a lot of opportunities but the thing is, I could never trust you again and I will never allow myself to be treated like that again.
Please forward this email along to your supervisor and kindly do not forward any other opportunities to me again. Don't worry, if you don't get around to forwarding this to your boss, I will when time allows.
Goodbye.
IT'S BEEN A WHILE: I kind of get it now how my sister and lots of my friends feel like they are pressed for time. Truth be told whenever anyone said that I always kind of doubted it. I mean, really, how busy can you be? Well...being thrust back into the NYC commuter world of Mondays through Fridays I am quite frankly exhausted. And I have no time. And it's only been a week. After about a year of traveling I knew returning to any sort of adult responsibility would be a wake up call. But this is just harsh because it's also been just shy of a decade since I've had to rely on NYC public transportation and a year since I've has a commitment to a real, big-girl full time job. After relocating out of NYC, I no longer had commute issues at work. I would walk, or drive for 3 minutes. Not so much anymore. I am on the train by 6:25Am, get to work at 7:45Am, leave at 4:PM and get home at 5:30PM. And by then I am shot. The job I am doing now is in no way demanding it's just that it seems to eat up my whole day. And this is how most people live. Am I just a princess? Am I just a sloth? Or is this legitimately tough? I don't have much time to do anything anymore. Where did all the hours go spent blogging, reading, writing, researching easy macaroon recipes? I'll tell you where they went. They got eaten up by this carnivorous and ruthless city. But I have made time to take up a new hobby: trying to make it through my entire commute without having to physically touch another person. These people gross me out.
HE SAID SHE SAID: I got this gig where for a few weeks I will be working in a school for children with special needs. The building I am located in actually has three different schools, and of course, as I walk through the hallways on a daily basis I see lots of student/teacher interaction. One, in particular, stuck out in my mind: a teacher was asking her class of, I guess, 2nd graders, to line up against opposite sides of the hallway per gender. Girls on the right. Boys on the left. I remember being told to do that when I was a little kid. But, as I watched, this time I was thinking about how in the next few years (or decades) as gender identity is no longer considered black or white the way it was when I was a child, teachers will probably no longer be able to divide children along gender lines. People are finally beginning to recognize that regarding gender, people do not fall into neat, little categories but instead are somewhere on the spectrum of sexuality. Sure, there are traditional heterosexuals and lesbians and gays but there are also folks who identify as transgender, queer, bisexual or asexual and, it turns out, there are dozens maybe hundreds of categories that I have never even heard of. So asking a little boy who actually identifies as a little girl to line up with the rest of the little boys is just not going to work out. The simple thing is, sure, to just add some more language, add some more categories and add sexuality to the list of things that we have to be politically correct about. Good. Fine. But, it's not nearly that simple. It is easy for countries, such as ours, where English is the main language. Easy because English is one of the languages that does not assign gender to inanimate objects - it is only assigned to people. But, what about the romance language? What about Spanish, or French or Italian? I know, in Portuguese, for example a "flower" is assigned a female pronoun while a "truck" is assigned a male pronoun. The implications and ramifications of how deeply ingrained gender roles go in a society is jaw-dropping. Gender roles are so woven into the fabric of vocabularies, and by extension culture, cannot even fathom how such languages will evolve. There is even a school in Sweden that does not use "her" or "him" in pursuit of a goal of not pushing gender agendas. And, my much-more-intelligent-than-me-sister took a research methodology class in her graduate program last year which focuses mostly on survey taking. When collecting data, surveyors and sociologists are moving in the direction of no longer asking individuals to fill in either a male or female field when completing the gender question Moving forward, you will begin to see questionnaires that do not outright ask your sex but instead ask what sex you identify with. If, for example, you are physically and girl but emotionally and psychologically identify with more traditional male characteristics, you would indicated male. And, who is determining what characteristics are assigned to women or men? No doubt a much more accurate indicator but very complicated
ON THE OTHER HAND: So, as you know, I've been doing this temp. gig thing, being hooked up with an agency that plugs me into various jobs as they become available. So far, I have been extremely lucky. I found a great agency that not only has been helping me make money but has been truly invaluable offering resume tips, interviewing advice and so on. But, one of the best things by far is that I have been able to work in different settings, different locations and with different people I would never have had the chance to meet before. Maybe, like me, you often hear that it's good to push yourself "outside your comfort zone". And like many brief, cliche, fortune-cookie pieces of advice that is really great except it doesn't always translate into the real world. Kind of like "don't sweat the small stuff". Yeah, I know the fact that I just got a flat tire is not the end of the world but that doesn't stop me RIGHT NOW from wanting to blow up my car. Or when I am stressed about something and someone tells me "just don't worry about it." Oh! Okay! You mean what I have been worrying about I should just stop worrying about? Genius! Now it's all better. So, getting back to the "pushing yourself outside the comfort zone thing". It's not always easy, practical or affordable. As an adult how often do you get to try a new job, just for a while, for the pure experience? Usually, when you take a job you have to take into account how it will work in the context of your life...is the money enough long term, can I handle the commute, do I even like this industry? As a temp. you get to sample different jobs like a buffet - taking what you want and not having to commit to any one thing. You have the chance to make money while an entire agency is focusing on how you are going to make more money when this job is over. You can have a job while someone else searches for more jobs for you. Win-win, right? Pretty much.
On the other hand, if you do have to deal with douchebags once in a while. And surprise, surprise, I have an example for you. After answering an ad for a part-time temp job on Craigslist it turned out I was, unbeknownst to me, contacting another temp. agency. From the beginning the woman seemed pretty unprofessional to say the least. First of all, she had difficulty explaining to me that she actually worked for a temp. agency and not the actual employer for the job I thought I was applying for. I agreed to meet with her anyway because I was really interested in the job. She wound up canceling our interview twice because she claimed she had the flu and turns out I lost the chance for that job because she didn't forward my name along and they filled the position in her absence. Here's where we switch places and I become the douche, because I agreed to meet with her anyway. The office was pretty much what I expected...in disarray, no one to meet me when I came in and, in person, this woman (we'll call her DB) looked like she just woke up from a nap. But my whole opinion turned around because not more than 20 minutes later I walked out of there with a temporary full time job, in a great location, easy commute and not a bad per hour wage. On the train ride home I was contacted by the temp. agency I really liked, the one I had been dealing with and turns out they found me another gig. I didn't know much about it other than that it would pay at least $4 more per hour. But, since I already agreed to the other job I turned it down. Bummer.
The next afternoon, I am contacted by DB who informs me that I have to complete a test in Excel, and I have to do it within the next hour or so. So, because I only have access to a Mac, I run from family member to family member to find a PC to try to download the stupid test. It does occur to me that this is a bit bizarre since she didn't ask me anything about my skill set but I was not concerned because I am pretty advanced when it comes to that database. I used two different computers to try to complete the test but something was wrong with the testing software, I think, because once in a while it would just jump to the next question without my even answering it. Again, I was not too concerned. I called DB back to tell her that I complete the test and before I could get a word in she says, "Yeah, Hi Carla...you lost that job. You didn't do well enough on the test." I start to explain and she cuts me off and says "Well, there's nothing I could do now that you completed the test and I cannot call anyone with your excuses".
I was, obviously, upset that not only did I lose this job but that I turned down the other one at more money per hour because of her. But, what I was most upset with was myself: I thought I had outgrown the phase where I let people treat me like that. I was surprised and disappointed in myself that I did not respond to her curt response to me during our last phone call. So, now I'm left with doing the corwardly thing which is writing her an email or writing her supervisor an email about my experience with their agency. I feel like I cannot just let this go but I cannot believe I let that happen!
Anyway...turns out later that same afternoon, I wound up with another job for more money also starting right away. Maybe things do work out the way they are supposed to. Maybe some things are just not meant to be. Maybe sometimes I have to take to heart and listen to these brief, cliche, fortune-cookie pieces of advice.
Please share with me a time when you felt you were treated unfairly. Come on, we all have a story like that. How did you handle it? Did it change the way you handled situations or people like that in the future? I would LOVE to hear from you!
HERE'S TODAY:
Since sometimes a picture can wrap things up better than words, I did a google image search on FUCK THIS which produced a variety of pics that would have worked. I went with the above. However, I also inadvertently stumbled upon the below website which gave me a much needed giggle:
WHAT A DIFFERENCE A DAY DOESN'T MAKE: I'm being paid to do nothing. In two days of this temp. position I have done a total of 30 minutes of solid, actual work and that's being generous. Don't be jealous though because I am confident there is a 10 year old girl in China who makes more than me at her factory job. So, I've spent the last two days like this:
Finishing reading a novel.
Started reading another novel.
Read four magazines.
Worried about my cell phone being turned off due to lack payment.
Wrote a short story.
Tried to keep panic attack at bay.
Submitted short story.
Fantasized about being offensively rich.
Sketched a design for a dress.
Made a bookmark with colorful Post-Its.
Brainstormed blog ideas.
Worried that my cell phone got turned off due to lack of payment.
Spent way too much time in my head.
Got the names of the only two black females in this office mixed up.
Spent time worrying if that mix-up would make me look racist.
Worried about that plane that was lost.
Fantasized about being a clothing designer.
Asked my sister to pay my phone bill.
Thought about whether it is difficult to make Macaroons.
Luckily, it only took one train to get to my Rockerfeller Center stop for my first temp. gig and as I emerged onto the sidewalk and into the fresh air I started to feel better. I got in a good two steps when I fell. I must have tripped over my own bad attitude and I was left looking like I was trying to belly-crawl my way up sixth avenue. Lying there, arms askew and outstretched, hat knocked off, bag thrown several feet in front in front of me just out of reach like my pride. Fortunately, my forehead protected me front the full impact of the blow. It was a bunch of pro-life picketers that came to my aide. I wonder if they knew we were not morally aligned if they would have helped me anyway.
I spent the next eight hours wondering how much further down my thigh my stocking rip would go and filling in for a receptionist whose desk was cluttered with weight loss and cat lovers magazines and whose drawers hid all sorts of chocolates. No issues there.
Can't wait for tomorrow.
SELF-IMPROVEMENT: At a family gathering last night, I happened to mention that I provide my one and only sibling with Progress Reports to let her know how she is doing as my big sister throughout the year. The Progress Reports can be mailed to her as frequently as quarterly and as little as once a year (I've missed a couple here & there), although I think the more often the better since it gives her ample time to make improvements. She gets rated on various categories from generosity to support to accessibility to patience to gift-giving to show of interest in my life to overall attitude. I think it makes things easier for both of us. Like, for example, if she does something that annoys me, I can easily refer back to Progress Reports so she can become aware of whether or not her behavior is a pattern. And, for her, it's a chance for self-improvement which, hey, aren't we all supposed to be pursuing anyway? Really, it's a win/win situation for both of us. Feel free to go ahead and apply Progress Reports to your own family and friends. At the most, it will greatly improve your relationship. At the worst, they will be very insulted (a reaction that completely alludes me) which only points out the first flaw they have to work on: self-awareness. God, I mean sometimes people are so clueless.
SOMETIMES WORDS FAIL ME: It is probable that my vocabulary is so woefully elemental that there are words in the English language that I could make good use of it I knew they existed. Let's start with vocabulary I find lacking in the romantic/sexuality category. I mean, isn't it ridiculous for grown women and men to have to use the words boyfriend and girlfriend? Could we come up with other words that make it clear these folks are actually no longer in high school? And what about kissing? There are dozens of types of kisses: the kiss you give your grandmother, the full-blown make out (hopefully not with your grandmother), a kiss of condolences, a kiss of friendship. Let's borrow some from the Eskimos who have lots of words for kisses ...and even more for "snow" ranging from "tlapripta" (snow that burns your scalp and eyelids), and the adorable, "tlarin" (snow that can be sculpted into the delicate corsages Eskimo girls pin to their whale parkas at prom time). How about "heavy-petting"? Come on people!! And are we so lazy that instead of inventing a word for divorced wives and husbands we just through an "ex" in front of them? And, while I'm at it, how about the word "miss"? Why do we use the same word to convey a train we were unable to make and how a woman feels about her husband that has been off at war for two years? Is that the best we have to offer? In Brazilian Portuguese there is a beautiful word: saudades. It means to miss with a painful longing. I like that. But, I'll tell you where the American-English language does exceed: in words describing various degrees of anger including mad, pissed-off, annoyed, agitated, enraged, infuriated, incensed, indignant, irate, irritable, cross, heated, furious, wrathful, piqued, affronted, displeased, outraged, exasperated, fuming, offended, vexed, chafed and on & on. Doesn't that say something about us? Are we okay with living in a society that inducts "Bootylicious" into our official dictionary but, say, gives us one word for "rain"? I bet the folks in Seattle would like something more descriptive.
MEN ARE FROM MARS: In the beginning of our relationship, my husband and I had a lot of trouble communicating. No, I mean really, He spoke Portuguese and I spoke English. For longer than you would imagine it was pretty smooth sailing. He was so pretty, it took a while for me to even care about what the hell he was talking about. And, for him? Well, anyone that knows me knows that if he had actually understood everything I was saying from the very beginning there is no way we would have made it through the first couple of years. There are many times when we both wish we could go back to those simpler days. I assure you, there would be a lot less arguing. But, over the years, I've created a Marcos-English dictionary so there is less confusion. Here are a few sample vocab words:
Fingers = Finger & Toes
Cold of the Pig = Swine Flu
Tuesday = Thursday
Thursday = Tuesday
Pepperoni = Popcorn
Sponge = Spoon
Fingers of the Chicken = Chicken Fingers
And, my personal favorite: "I gave you a foot and you took my whole property." He was going for "I give you an inch, you take a yard." Now, I really am not making fun of him. He speaks three languages and after traveling for years, he had the courage to settle down here knowing no one, not speaking the language. Amazing to me. Me? It was culture shock just moving from NYC to Massachusetts. I'm letting you know this so that when I share the next thing you won't think I am a complete bitch: sometimes, just in the beginning, because I got a kick out of it, I may have taught him the wrong words for things. Very early on, I may have led him to believe that the word for both women's and men's underwear is PANTIES. And, okay, that chapstick is the same as lipstick. Nothing gave me more joy when my big, strong, construction-working husband is driving me crazy in the morning getting ready for work and he snaps at me to help him find his panties and lipstick. And ya know, he found out that he was using the wrong words pretty quickly unbeknownst to me but he kept on using them because it made me smile. Good guy.
But, before you think he's so innocent, he called me Ass Face for at least two years before I knew it. He would wake up in the morning and say Bom Dia (God Morning) Cara de Coo. It just sounded so cute, so sing songy: Cara de Coo. Yeah, it means Ass Face. Maybe we really are meant to be together.
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