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| yack yack yack.
i seem to be surrounded by people that like to yack on about their own problems and not often do they stop to consider that the world continues to move w/ or w/out them. well, i'm exaggerating because there are probably just two or three people that i know. yeah, three. i can see them now. sitting there yacking about their "problem." not that it isn't a real "problem," but is it really a problem if they aren't trying to solve it?
our conversations are dominated by their pressing matters: being ignored by someone they like, work issues, boss issues. whatever. i'm always the one that says: "well, you know that maybe he's busy" or "well, then just forget about him." they say, "ugh, just let me vent." but they don't listen, they keep bringing the same shit over and over again, feeling sorry for themselves in their tiny little world.
shit, i wish they'd realize that there is nothing wrong with other people, they are not the ones that are making you miserable, you are making your mother fucking self miserable. see, it works like this: if they're messing with your head, let them know that they should stop. "STOP FUCKING WITH ME." let them know, maybe not in those words, but if you feel a quiet animosity from your co-workers or you don't like the way you are treated by your boyfriend, then stop bitching about it and grow some balls (or ovaries) and talk to them. IF NOT, and the person is just a dumbass that should be forced into the vagina from whence it came, CUT them out, talk to THEIR supervisor, or if they're really that bad, QUIT.
people act like they're victims of their god damn existence and it's lame. there is a difference between "venting" and talking about the same shit, over and over and over again. now here i've suddenly driven myself into a corner and now i realize that if they're really bothering me, i should let them know. the other day, as my friend was talking to me and wouldn't shut the fuck up telling me a boring story about how he went out with the this guy who he keeps obsessing about, even though this guy is always flaking on him, i told him he was boring me and that he talked too much and didn't let ME say anything about MY day and MY shit. see, my life IS interesting, WAY more interesting than some boring ass work drama, but not a lot of people take time to find that out because they're too busy yapping about their own self-absorbed existence.
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on the flip side, you can always win a person over by asking them questions about themselves.
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| i think the part i hate the most about being an intern or entry level, or even looking for a job is being in a state of abject depression and sometimes self-loathing. it's not all the time, it's just after you got off the phone with some high and mighty HR lady who seems to only want stop talking to you lets you know that A) you're not qualified B) they've gone in another direction or C) we don't know yet. the last being a passive aggressive way of letting you know that they don't want you.
it's pretty shocking, really, because i'm going to throw out out a number, 85% of all people have absolutely no tact, and need at least 100 hours of education in "how to play nice with others." i'm most tired at the end of the day of being an intern when all day i hear complaints or reprimands for something, or even worse, the constant patronizing tone that people seem to use for interns. maybe this is just my experience, or maybe i'm too proud.
either way, i'm ready for this to be over and be five years from now. at least i've gotten over my intimidation of calling big firms. i got finally got called back from an HR lady at tbwa\chiat\day who told me i wasn't qualified for an assistant account executive, which is fine, but then she went on to tell me that they picked 3 interns from the lot of us. i knew i shouldn't have gone hung-over. i wonder if she noticed.
i'd really like to let all potential employees know that i am probably the best candidate out there for an internship, and more so for an entry level position. advertising isn't rocket science, but i'm still pretty clever. a lot clever. so how do i let people know? it's so frustrating when you fail at your "first impression" because they really are everything. the lady from tbwa told me that i shouldn't worry, i'm just starting my career and it didn't matter where i started as long as i got some experience. she told me that she liked me and said that i would fit in well w/ their team. but she didn't pick me!
bah. i'm still waiting to hear back from dailey and associates to see if they want me for an assistant media planner. i am excited, but since i haven't heard from the person i interviewed w/, i'm thinking they may go w/ someone w/ more experience. she said they would make their decision by today. so she has 2 1/2 hours before i go crazy. being rejected sucks. | | |
| the smelly, hairy-legged feministsome people think that being gay means you would like to be a woman. that is inaccurate. i love women and i want the best for them, but i like my penis, i like that i can work out and get big, and i like that i don't have a vagina that bleeds every month. sorry to be so blunt, but how else do you respond to such a ridiculous assumption?
but, i am definitely a feminist.
everyone seems to wonder exactly what that means, and who to pin down as an exemplary feminist. i'll tell you what i don't think it is: it's NOT women defining their self-worth by how well they cook and how happy they can make their husbands.
after you get your head out of the story books and shove-off the hollywood hogwash, you can start to imagine that a woman, or a man, is in reality far more empowered to make their own life a pleasant affair. society would have you believe, on the other hand, that certain happiness will be available at the right price, the perfect pair of pants, and the popular boyfriend. it [society] jabbers on about how great it is to have a "someone," and it particularly tells women that they are worth more if they're not prudish spinsters.
i think it's shocking that there are so many "gentlemen clubs" and even watered down tittie bars like hooters where beautiful women walk around making money through tight shirts and heavy make-up. there couldn't be a better social thermometer to give you an idea of how people think. yes, there are places for women to go and see naked men, but i don't think i've ever seen a billboard with a shirtless guy and the words "Exotic Boys, 3 exits." it may have something to do with a lot of truck drivers being men, but you get the idea.
women shouldn't always have to be pleasing men by spending hours on their appearance and mastering domestic skills. or, maybe men should try harder to please women. things are probably changing, but since i'm not so highly immersed in the straight world, i have no idea. we need to move away from those strict macho/fem guidelines that have us all biting our nails hoping that no one thinks we're a sissy man or a butch woman.
speaking on men trying to please women, i read somewhere about a supposed group of dissenters called "retrosexuals" who are obsessed with being manly. so much, in fact, that one guy decided to have hair transplanted onto his chest because he felt he wasn't manly enough.
isn't that STILL cosmetic surgery?? | | |
| i was going to write a blog about why i read novels, but this is better.
"Was everyone else really as alive as she was? For example, did her sister really matter to herself, was she as valuable to herself as Briony was? Was being Cecilia just as vivid an affair as being Briony? Did her sister also have a real self concealed behind a breaking wave, and did she spend time thinking about it, with a finger held up to her face? Did everybody, including her father, Betty, Hardman? If the answer was yes, then the world, the social world, was unbearably complicated, with two [7] billion voices, and everyone's thoughts striving in equal importance and everyone's claim on life as intense, and everyone thinking they were unique, when no one was. One could drown in irrelevance. But if the answer was no, then Briony was surrounded by machines, intelligent and pleasant enough on thge outside, but lacking the bright and private inside feeling she had. This was sinister and lonely, as well as unlikely. For, though it offended her sense of order, she knew it was overwhelmingly probably that everyone else had thoughts like hers. She knew this, but only in a rather arid way; she didn't really feel it."
"...But she knew very well that if she had not stood when she did, the scene would still have happened, for it was not about her at all."
...As she stood in the nursery waiting for her cousins' return she sensed she could write a scene like the one by the fountain and she could include a hidden observer like herself. She could imagine herself hurrying down now to her bedroom, to a clean block of lined paper and her marbled, Bakelite fountain pen. She could see the simple sentences, the accumulating telepathic symbols, unfurling at the nib's end. She could write the scene three times over, from three points of view; her excitement was in the prospect of freedom, of being delivered from the cumbrous struggle between good and bad, heroes and villains. None of these three was bad, nor were they particularly good. She need not judge. There did not have to be a moral. She need only show separate minds, as alive as her own, struggling with the idea that other minds were equally alive. It wasn't only wickedness and scheming that made people unhappy, it was confusion and misunderstanding; above all, it was the failure to grasp the simple truth that other people are as real as you. And only in a story could you enter these different minds and show how they had an equal value. That was the only moral a story need have." | | |
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