http://youtu.be/KZwXHs-MPNI
Monday, April 21, 2014
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Video Motif Assignment
This was a very interesting experience. I had multiple people shoot pieces of video for me hoping to get a few jewels in there but I ended up using the footage that I shot in less than an hour. I was at a loss as to how I could make this be something other than a poorly made commercial or some overreaching artistic piece, so I chose to fuse two things that I'm familiar with: literature and slap-stick humor. This is the result.
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Collage Description and Justification
The central theme to my collage is drawn from what I see as central to my blog as well: musings. In general, musings can be inspired by several aspect of one's life but my personal take on it is my view of the world as seen through a lens tempered with the relationships I have with those the closest to me.
The color scheme is specifically picked to mirror the colors that one would associate with night-time. I write mostly at night during which time the world is the same but you see it differently, the best description I have heard for this time was described by Hawthorne in "The Haunted Mind". The choice of blues, grays, and black are to convey this atmosphere and by overlaying common images (cityscapes, type faces, loved ones) in a broken fashion over one another to obscure their "normalcy" and make them into something almost surreal it allows me to convey how necessary every day things are to a writer and that nothing should be overlooked.
The color scheme is specifically picked to mirror the colors that one would associate with night-time. I write mostly at night during which time the world is the same but you see it differently, the best description I have heard for this time was described by Hawthorne in "The Haunted Mind". The choice of blues, grays, and black are to convey this atmosphere and by overlaying common images (cityscapes, type faces, loved ones) in a broken fashion over one another to obscure their "normalcy" and make them into something almost surreal it allows me to convey how necessary every day things are to a writer and that nothing should be overlooked.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Chapter 3, Exercise 2
#2) I've decided to evaluate http://www.questionablecontent.net/ because it is a site that I frequent on a daily basis and the usability of it is designed with a specific audience in mind.
From a Visual Culture perspective, this document is designed to appeal to a specific target audience (english speaking and "indie"). To explain this, a funnel technique would be the most effective means of conveying how the choices the writer has made in the document narrow the audience.
The main page merely states "Questionable Content" without describing exactly what questionable content is. Underneath the page title, there are objects that allow the user to navigate the page. These objects consist of English text instead of a wider reaching symbol, and the text itself includes abbreviations understood only by those who frequent similar sites (RL RSS). The large image on the page is a continuation of an online comic. By offering the most recent comic instead of an explanation of what the user is looking at or the first in the series, the writer is focused on returning users who understand the context of the image without explanation of any kind. Thus, the audience becomes very specific.
From a Visual Rhetoric as User-Centered Design perspective, the decisions made by the writer appear to be dead-on. The design of the site itself is easy to learn and consistent with what the site is for. The writer provides archives for past comics as well as constant updates, links for recommended reading, sales, and tabs available (sort of) for new users that need information about the site.
The intended ethos of this site is definitely that of being part of the hipster/indie scene.
The logos of this site is content first, explanation later if at all.
The pathos is, well...You're either in, or out. Withholding information that would explain what the site is creates a sense of inclusiveness which ties closely in with the indie/hipster mantra. By being a reader and *understanding* the context, you're a member of their really awesome super-secretive club. It makes the reader want to belong.
From a Visual Culture perspective, this document is designed to appeal to a specific target audience (english speaking and "indie"). To explain this, a funnel technique would be the most effective means of conveying how the choices the writer has made in the document narrow the audience.
The main page merely states "Questionable Content" without describing exactly what questionable content is. Underneath the page title, there are objects that allow the user to navigate the page. These objects consist of English text instead of a wider reaching symbol, and the text itself includes abbreviations understood only by those who frequent similar sites (RL RSS). The large image on the page is a continuation of an online comic. By offering the most recent comic instead of an explanation of what the user is looking at or the first in the series, the writer is focused on returning users who understand the context of the image without explanation of any kind. Thus, the audience becomes very specific.
From a Visual Rhetoric as User-Centered Design perspective, the decisions made by the writer appear to be dead-on. The design of the site itself is easy to learn and consistent with what the site is for. The writer provides archives for past comics as well as constant updates, links for recommended reading, sales, and tabs available (sort of) for new users that need information about the site.
The intended ethos of this site is definitely that of being part of the hipster/indie scene.
The logos of this site is content first, explanation later if at all.
The pathos is, well...You're either in, or out. Withholding information that would explain what the site is creates a sense of inclusiveness which ties closely in with the indie/hipster mantra. By being a reader and *understanding* the context, you're a member of their really awesome super-secretive club. It makes the reader want to belong.
Chapter 2, Exercises 1 and 3
#1)
I gathered up a magazine, a mail-order pamphlet, and the uca parking permit pamphlet.
#3) a. The entire page of the document is designed in a triple column layout. Each column reads left to right to the bottom of the page and continues at the top of the next column in the middle of the page, and so on. I count 16 objects. All shapes but one are literal images of the product being offered, while the last one is a bold horizontal line in the upper portion of the middle column. The images are placed to the right of the columns but do not necessarily line up with the description of the image. The color of all objects are in variations of black on coral pamplet-esque paper with various shading of grey to allow an appearance of texture. The value of each object appears to be somewhat high because the black and grey imaging is set against a coral background; the contrast is good. However, the size of each image is not varied enough to allow emphasis to be given to a specific group of items. The size of the objects compared to the text surrounding it isn't significant enough to give proper emphasis to the objects. Their position in the document appears haphazard and lacking any real cohesion. Some objects appear to the left of the description while others will be to the right and slightly above or below their descriptions. It requires a significant amount of effort to find the specific image that goes with the descriptions.
b. The objects on the document that are of similar items (books) appear in the same size but others (like stickers) vary in size with one another, and because the entire document is printed in black and grey, all objects are similar in color. As stated above, the position of the objects seem random. Contrast in this document is poor between the objects; they all appear to be the same in value. The proximity of the objects to one another and related text is poor which makes navigating the document difficult and frustrating. The alignment visually is clean but lacks functionality. Lines are placed randomly and not to separate groups of objects or different themes. The order is arranged differently depending on what the item is which, again, causes a serious navigation issue. There is no form of enclosure other than the separation of text and photos by using columns; however, this is not a functional enclosure, it seems to be a default format that is carried out in every page of the document. I would enclose all similar items in separate sections of the page using bold borders. The most prominent items in the document (the books) would be placed at the top with larger text then sectioned into columns, and the objects that represent each item would be moved to the left. The less expensive items would be moved to the bottom with a similar layout as the items above.
#3) a. The entire page of the document is designed in a triple column layout. Each column reads left to right to the bottom of the page and continues at the top of the next column in the middle of the page, and so on. I count 16 objects. All shapes but one are literal images of the product being offered, while the last one is a bold horizontal line in the upper portion of the middle column. The images are placed to the right of the columns but do not necessarily line up with the description of the image. The color of all objects are in variations of black on coral pamplet-esque paper with various shading of grey to allow an appearance of texture. The value of each object appears to be somewhat high because the black and grey imaging is set against a coral background; the contrast is good. However, the size of each image is not varied enough to allow emphasis to be given to a specific group of items. The size of the objects compared to the text surrounding it isn't significant enough to give proper emphasis to the objects. Their position in the document appears haphazard and lacking any real cohesion. Some objects appear to the left of the description while others will be to the right and slightly above or below their descriptions. It requires a significant amount of effort to find the specific image that goes with the descriptions.
b. The objects on the document that are of similar items (books) appear in the same size but others (like stickers) vary in size with one another, and because the entire document is printed in black and grey, all objects are similar in color. As stated above, the position of the objects seem random. Contrast in this document is poor between the objects; they all appear to be the same in value. The proximity of the objects to one another and related text is poor which makes navigating the document difficult and frustrating. The alignment visually is clean but lacks functionality. Lines are placed randomly and not to separate groups of objects or different themes. The order is arranged differently depending on what the item is which, again, causes a serious navigation issue. There is no form of enclosure other than the separation of text and photos by using columns; however, this is not a functional enclosure, it seems to be a default format that is carried out in every page of the document. I would enclose all similar items in separate sections of the page using bold borders. The most prominent items in the document (the books) would be placed at the top with larger text then sectioned into columns, and the objects that represent each item would be moved to the left. The less expensive items would be moved to the bottom with a similar layout as the items above.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
A Turn or is it "U" turn?
Well, I've decided to revamp my beloved (albeit neglected) blog for a more noble use: How to's? Random Ideas? Recipes? The occasional rant? Maybe one, perhaps all. I can be so fickle at times. Nevertheless, this post has an actual purpose. I'm wanting to share a poem I wrote a few days ago when I was in one of those surreal moods. Enjoy.
The apple of Sodom-
Bare fruit, bare breasted
Baring all - barring none.
Stark red alters made
Sacrificing not life-but force-
God’s blind; ad populum arrange
Call forward eruption glass
Creation maintain- reinforce
The artificial skin-hardening
Mirror beauty, concerns.
Symbolic image, rounded red.
Disease’s birth wanting-
Undo what was never done.
Etching stone, natural fingers
Virgin secret forged will
Discover locks and gates-
Keeping time for time
And mindful of their disguise
Theatre smiles and lying eyes
Eternal echo ethereal erase.
Please share all thoughts and opinions!
The apple of Sodom-
Bare fruit, bare breasted
Baring all - barring none.
Stark red alters made
Sacrificing not life-but force-
God’s blind; ad populum arrange
Call forward eruption glass
Creation maintain- reinforce
The artificial skin-hardening
Mirror beauty, concerns.
Symbolic image, rounded red.
Disease’s birth wanting-
Undo what was never done.
Etching stone, natural fingers
Virgin secret forged will
Discover locks and gates-
Keeping time for time
And mindful of their disguise
Theatre smiles and lying eyes
Eternal echo ethereal erase.
Please share all thoughts and opinions!
Monday, December 20, 2010
Sometimes I Can't Even Stand Myself
Often, I feel as if there is something seriously wrong with me. Not a cold or anything else charmingly mundane- its something I don't understand and that lack of understanding manifests itself in horrible ways. I can't do stress. I know most people say that but I REALLY mean it; I lose my mind and regress back to infancy within 60 seconds. This can't be normal.
I know quite a few people who self-medicate for this same kind of problem but I, in my ignorant and naive idea of self-control, refuse to be medicated for anything because, well, there's nothing wrong with me- right?
I like to think that, ya know. I'm normal and everyone else is defective. Obviously I'm wrong... I think it's grown worse actually. I hate being around people and I have no want to socialize because I think most are crude and selfish. I have very few people who could be considered friends and I don't go out of my way to make new ones. Actually, I go out of my way to avoid new people.
I'm tired.
I find it funny that people tell you something and say, "No matter what". Well, that's just complete shit, isn't it? Really? No matter what? Are you sure? "I won't leave you, no matter what." Yeah, we'll see... won't we?
Sunday, September 12, 2010
The Social Structure of the Modern Middle Class
So far I have yet to understand how society works. Is it normal to feel like an outsider in every social situation? I do try, mind you, but even when I adopt the artificial smile and mimic the slight nuances of meaningless conversation, it still fails. I don't know if I detest the artifice of the whole act so much that it distorts what should be pleasant into something mocking and monstrous or perhaps I'm just really bad at it. Who knows...
In spite of my obvious failures in this regard, I have learned the surface rules of our disturbing culture:
1- Even if you don't care, pretend to with as much faked enthusiasm as possible.
2- Be shallow. We're talking REALLY shallow. Don't worry about the more profound and worrisome aspects of life. You should only discuss who did what to whom and how shocked you are by it.
3- Belong to a social circle. This holds true for parents who live vicariously through their children via sports, dance, or any other activity your children participate in only to seek a second of your approval. In southern states, these circles typically exist in Churches and these people can be some of the most unpleasant folks you'd ever encounter.
4- Keep up appearances. I do mean "keep up"... at all costs!!! You must look a certain way, own certain things, and your family must be composed of specific types of personalities. Otherwise, you're doomed. If your children show signs of independence, free-thought, or a taste for the odd; you must rewire them immediately into hate-filled, elitist, automatons. (For their own good, of course.)
As silly and infantile as these rules may seem, they are, nevertheless, standard for every circle. I wish the rest of you luck in shaving off the tidbits of your personality that won't fit nicely into said mold- I know that I've failed at it completely.
In spite of my obvious failures in this regard, I have learned the surface rules of our disturbing culture:
1- Even if you don't care, pretend to with as much faked enthusiasm as possible.
2- Be shallow. We're talking REALLY shallow. Don't worry about the more profound and worrisome aspects of life. You should only discuss who did what to whom and how shocked you are by it.
3- Belong to a social circle. This holds true for parents who live vicariously through their children via sports, dance, or any other activity your children participate in only to seek a second of your approval. In southern states, these circles typically exist in Churches and these people can be some of the most unpleasant folks you'd ever encounter.
4- Keep up appearances. I do mean "keep up"... at all costs!!! You must look a certain way, own certain things, and your family must be composed of specific types of personalities. Otherwise, you're doomed. If your children show signs of independence, free-thought, or a taste for the odd; you must rewire them immediately into hate-filled, elitist, automatons. (For their own good, of course.)
As silly and infantile as these rules may seem, they are, nevertheless, standard for every circle. I wish the rest of you luck in shaving off the tidbits of your personality that won't fit nicely into said mold- I know that I've failed at it completely.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Beware! Self-Aware!
I've never considered myself old. I'm sure most feel the same way and then, one day, you wake up and joints pop and jar more than usual- a lot more than usual. You fumble around and finally make your way to the vanity mirror only to discover that the light you've always recognized is fizzling and your face seems a bit more plain. What a horrid feeling. You panic.
Am I really that person? The old maid who keeps too much to herself and who is, no doubt, too much or too little to love? Is there really a perfect mixture? I constantly wonder as to if there really is something off about me. Do I ask too much? Require too much? Do I really hold people to such high standards that they break their ignoble necks when they finally fall from the astronomically high pedestal I have placed them on? Surely not! Not I!!
I have given multiple soap-box speeches against the institution of marriage but why do I give them? I actually think I give them to hide something. I'm drowning my self-doubt with a simple face-saving technique; if you can't join them, beat them! Not that I'm not grateful that my past relationships ended, because I am- believe me. I do, however, wonder what other people have that I don't. Since no one has offered me logical reasons, I do exactly what a reasonable person shouldn't do; I make them up. I wonder why no man secretly plans and purchases an engagement ring for me... Well, there is no real wonder there; I can be a perfect nightmare of a creature sometimes- but who isn't?
Am I really that person? The old maid who keeps too much to herself and who is, no doubt, too much or too little to love? Is there really a perfect mixture? I constantly wonder as to if there really is something off about me. Do I ask too much? Require too much? Do I really hold people to such high standards that they break their ignoble necks when they finally fall from the astronomically high pedestal I have placed them on? Surely not! Not I!!
I have given multiple soap-box speeches against the institution of marriage but why do I give them? I actually think I give them to hide something. I'm drowning my self-doubt with a simple face-saving technique; if you can't join them, beat them! Not that I'm not grateful that my past relationships ended, because I am- believe me. I do, however, wonder what other people have that I don't. Since no one has offered me logical reasons, I do exactly what a reasonable person shouldn't do; I make them up. I wonder why no man secretly plans and purchases an engagement ring for me... Well, there is no real wonder there; I can be a perfect nightmare of a creature sometimes- but who isn't?
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Needed: A Purpose and a Hammer
It's comin' up a flood outside and here I am without a stockpile of pliable wood and no message from God. Damn...
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Breaking Up Really Isn't Hard To Do
I haven't written anything in months. I'm ashamed of myself, really. Blank pages intimidate now instead of provoking me to fill them with whatever inane dribble that fills the catacomb of my mind. What happened?
I can faintly hear my muse. She never left, she only bides her time waiting on me to pull my shit together and get back in the game. She's particular about the company I keep. I've purged myself of undesirables. Perhaps that's why she's whispering to me once again.
My days are proudly wearing now. Hope is something I typically don't allow myself. Its always been a privilege for others but never applicable to me. Disappointment doesn't strike me as deeply as it once did. Its blade has dulled and shrank in lieu of a more suited affliction; happiness.
I don't know why I always decide to write in the early hours of the morning when sleep escapes me and the only thing that keeps me company is the hum of electronics. Everyone else is sleeping soundly as one should at six a.m. Why am I awake?
Regardless, I'll find my way back here more often and remain faithful to this lifelong romance.
I can faintly hear my muse. She never left, she only bides her time waiting on me to pull my shit together and get back in the game. She's particular about the company I keep. I've purged myself of undesirables. Perhaps that's why she's whispering to me once again.
My days are proudly wearing now. Hope is something I typically don't allow myself. Its always been a privilege for others but never applicable to me. Disappointment doesn't strike me as deeply as it once did. Its blade has dulled and shrank in lieu of a more suited affliction; happiness.
I don't know why I always decide to write in the early hours of the morning when sleep escapes me and the only thing that keeps me company is the hum of electronics. Everyone else is sleeping soundly as one should at six a.m. Why am I awake?
Regardless, I'll find my way back here more often and remain faithful to this lifelong romance.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
So, Where's My Net?
I should be asleep. Typically when I post, that's the first and final phrase that runs through my mind.
I used to write constantly about my idea of love and what it would be like if I were to experience it (or not, whatever the case may be.) Needless to say, I'm doggy-paddling quickly to the deep end. What have I found?
Well, I'm not sure. I have experienced unequivocal bliss and heart-wrenching pain. I catch myself doing what I swore I never would. Never give anyone all of yourself, I would say, because you'll have nothing left. Was I right?
I have no idea. I'm fearful that I was correct in that observation because I have, fully, given myself over to someone and now he has the ability to crush me. I regret it sometimes. I wish I could have remained resolute in my outlook on the horrid nature of other people... but I didn't. I ask myself constantly if it was a mistake and if this will be my undoing or...
my catalyst for change. I suppose only time can tell and I hope that time is a kind mistress.
I used to write constantly about my idea of love and what it would be like if I were to experience it (or not, whatever the case may be.) Needless to say, I'm doggy-paddling quickly to the deep end. What have I found?
Well, I'm not sure. I have experienced unequivocal bliss and heart-wrenching pain. I catch myself doing what I swore I never would. Never give anyone all of yourself, I would say, because you'll have nothing left. Was I right?
I have no idea. I'm fearful that I was correct in that observation because I have, fully, given myself over to someone and now he has the ability to crush me. I regret it sometimes. I wish I could have remained resolute in my outlook on the horrid nature of other people... but I didn't. I ask myself constantly if it was a mistake and if this will be my undoing or...
my catalyst for change. I suppose only time can tell and I hope that time is a kind mistress.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
I'm grateful its only twenty-four hours...
Today was odd. Not odd in that way which warrants thrusting your hand into the nearest garbage disposal but odd because it felt wrong. It wasn't a headache or any other normal body pain that plagues most of us. It just seemed as if the entire day was a rough draft. Unfinished, unpolished, and shitty. Hopefully, its cut from the final product.
Friday, November 21, 2008
BFFH 2
BFFH 2
BFFH - 2
Requiem for my patience.
"What do you mean I didn't get my holiday pay?!?!"
"You were scheduled to work the day after and well, you didn't" says the manager type, fearing the worst (he plans ahead, this one)
"That's absurd! I was sick!", white-knuckling the hammer in my hand.
"I never got a doctor's excuse from you so I have to go by what I know.", he bumbles, displaying the first signs of a stroke or perhaps readying himself for the blow to the skull.
"A doctor's note you say? So if I get this note, I'll get paid then?", I say, trying to recall where I put the stamp I stole from the drawer in my shrink's desk.
"Yeah, I suppose you could."
I smell defeat. Blood in the water.
"Very good, give me an hour"
I grab my coat and head for the door, knocking over the precariously perched cup of coffee on the power supply near his desk and slam the door.
BZZZZT
I hope he didn't need his desktop for anything today. Meh, a small price to pay for a skip to my step.
*1 hour and 30 minutes later*
"I gave you an hour, you've been gone over an hour and a half" He burbles.
"No... I've been gone 4 cigarettes, 1 comic section, 3-15 minute phone calls, and a snow cone"
"Excuse me?"
"Nothing... I have that note."
I hand him the crisply folded note that smells of kibble.
"Why is there a dog on the letterhead?" He asks and looks at me with that vacant expression I've came to love.
"What? Oh, he really likes animals." I say while looking at his caramel coated powercord.
"Well, I suppose everything is in order so I'll send off your holiday pay."
"That's splendid! I'm going to take a break for a while and wash your car."
"Wash my car? Why?"
"Will windex remove pig's blood?"
"Huh?"
"Nevermind, you should be more careful when you drive. Pigs running about unattended, you should be ashamed"
"Go back to work"
"I am working"
"I think I may call your doctor, just so I know this is legit."
"Suit yourself. I wouldn't bother him right now though, he seemed busy when I went into his office. Of course, this is the breeding season."
"Excuse me?"
"Nevermind all that, make sure I get paid."
*Slam*
He rings the number on the letterhead...
"Southwest Drive Animal Hospital, how can I help you?"
He said "A" doctor, I can only go by what I know. :D
-Disclaimer- All people, actions, and animals contained herein are completely fictional and sputtered thoughts from the mind of the author. No one was harmed during the creation of this dialogue (unless, of course, I don't get my holiday pay)
BFFH - 2
Requiem for my patience.
"What do you mean I didn't get my holiday pay?!?!"
"You were scheduled to work the day after and well, you didn't" says the manager type, fearing the worst (he plans ahead, this one)
"That's absurd! I was sick!", white-knuckling the hammer in my hand.
"I never got a doctor's excuse from you so I have to go by what I know.", he bumbles, displaying the first signs of a stroke or perhaps readying himself for the blow to the skull.
"A doctor's note you say? So if I get this note, I'll get paid then?", I say, trying to recall where I put the stamp I stole from the drawer in my shrink's desk.
"Yeah, I suppose you could."
I smell defeat. Blood in the water.
"Very good, give me an hour"
I grab my coat and head for the door, knocking over the precariously perched cup of coffee on the power supply near his desk and slam the door.
BZZZZT
I hope he didn't need his desktop for anything today. Meh, a small price to pay for a skip to my step.
*1 hour and 30 minutes later*
"I gave you an hour, you've been gone over an hour and a half" He burbles.
"No... I've been gone 4 cigarettes, 1 comic section, 3-15 minute phone calls, and a snow cone"
"Excuse me?"
"Nothing... I have that note."
I hand him the crisply folded note that smells of kibble.
"Why is there a dog on the letterhead?" He asks and looks at me with that vacant expression I've came to love.
"What? Oh, he really likes animals." I say while looking at his caramel coated powercord.
"Well, I suppose everything is in order so I'll send off your holiday pay."
"That's splendid! I'm going to take a break for a while and wash your car."
"Wash my car? Why?"
"Will windex remove pig's blood?"
"Huh?"
"Nevermind, you should be more careful when you drive. Pigs running about unattended, you should be ashamed"
"Go back to work"
"I am working"
"I think I may call your doctor, just so I know this is legit."
"Suit yourself. I wouldn't bother him right now though, he seemed busy when I went into his office. Of course, this is the breeding season."
"Excuse me?"
"Nevermind all that, make sure I get paid."
*Slam*
He rings the number on the letterhead...
"Southwest Drive Animal Hospital, how can I help you?"
He said "A" doctor, I can only go by what I know. :D
-Disclaimer- All people, actions, and animals contained herein are completely fictional and sputtered thoughts from the mind of the author. No one was harmed during the creation of this dialogue (unless, of course, I don't get my holiday pay)
BFFH 1
BFFH 1
This was my first whack at these, written perhaps 5 or 6 months ago...
B.F.F.H. *Passing the buck, a lost art*
First of all, today I go into work...late, well not really late, but late nonetheless, only to be greeted by the smiling face of my co-worker who has just put in her notice. Ah, admiration and the green-eyed monster of envy. She tells me how the meeting with the manager type went and how she couldn't wait to leave. I hate her! So instead of doing what Nena usually does in this situation (telling her that she is leaving me at ground zero and how many different ways she could shove her laptop into her ass) I decided to play the non-confrontational card. Lo and behold it actually works to my advantage, so I shove the card back into the box for future use. She proceeds to tell me how many perks she has at this new job and how her schedule will be flexible and that she can kiss my... wait, that's not what she said... moving on...
While she is going into horrid detail about her new office the phone rings... bear in mind here, this IS 9:30 in the morning, and I am anything but a morning person... being that as it is I stroll to the phone and say, "Frame shop" (careful to never give my name in case of incident) The voice on the other end ever so timidly says, "Yes, I'd like to see if my framing order is ready." Since I'm feeling particularly helpful today, I say, "Name?" She gives me her name (and spells it, because I'm that stupid) I look and *gasp* it's not finished. I wait a few more minutes hoping the Muzak that is playing in her ear for the past 10 minutes will numb the shock of what I'm about to tell her.
I go into the break room and grab a soda, gab at the older women who work there and then finally make it back to the phone. I pick up the receiver and say, "Ma'am?" she replies with, "Yes?" and I say in my most cynically sympathetic voice, "Seems your order isn't completed as of yet, we are short handed and very high volume, but I would be happy to call you as soon as it is completed." I pause, (job well done) While I'm patting myself on the back she breaks up my self congratulatory parade with "That's not my problem" *Oh! Feisty!* So I tell her I'm going to connect her to the manager and then hang up. Apparently this wasn't sufficient enough for her and she actually calls back. Instead of asking for framing she goes straight for the jugular...she asks for the manager type.
A few moments later, the manager type strolls back into the frame shop with quite a displeased look upon his face. Me being the caring person I am...ignored his presence and finished my soda. He looks at me and asks if I just talked to L**** S*******. I stare at him blankly *A look I have perfected in my years there* and claim complete ignorance. So he goes into detail about what she told him. Instead of letting him ramble for 20 minutes or more, I interrupt him mid-sentence to tell him that I do recall my co-worker mentioned her and that he should talk to her.
Seems this was sufficient enough to allow me time to nap behind my table while he tracked her down. I detest pissy customeres especially when they are complaining about a FRAMING order being a day late. This isn't your car, your child or your kidney...get a handle on yourself.
*All events, people, and napping contained in this entry are completely fictional and are in no way related to or taken from any real events*
(My raise time is coming up soon)
This was my first whack at these, written perhaps 5 or 6 months ago...
B.F.F.H. *Passing the buck, a lost art*
First of all, today I go into work...late, well not really late, but late nonetheless, only to be greeted by the smiling face of my co-worker who has just put in her notice. Ah, admiration and the green-eyed monster of envy. She tells me how the meeting with the manager type went and how she couldn't wait to leave. I hate her! So instead of doing what Nena usually does in this situation (telling her that she is leaving me at ground zero and how many different ways she could shove her laptop into her ass) I decided to play the non-confrontational card. Lo and behold it actually works to my advantage, so I shove the card back into the box for future use. She proceeds to tell me how many perks she has at this new job and how her schedule will be flexible and that she can kiss my... wait, that's not what she said... moving on...
While she is going into horrid detail about her new office the phone rings... bear in mind here, this IS 9:30 in the morning, and I am anything but a morning person... being that as it is I stroll to the phone and say, "Frame shop" (careful to never give my name in case of incident) The voice on the other end ever so timidly says, "Yes, I'd like to see if my framing order is ready." Since I'm feeling particularly helpful today, I say, "Name?" She gives me her name (and spells it, because I'm that stupid) I look and *gasp* it's not finished. I wait a few more minutes hoping the Muzak that is playing in her ear for the past 10 minutes will numb the shock of what I'm about to tell her.
I go into the break room and grab a soda, gab at the older women who work there and then finally make it back to the phone. I pick up the receiver and say, "Ma'am?" she replies with, "Yes?" and I say in my most cynically sympathetic voice, "Seems your order isn't completed as of yet, we are short handed and very high volume, but I would be happy to call you as soon as it is completed." I pause, (job well done) While I'm patting myself on the back she breaks up my self congratulatory parade with "That's not my problem" *Oh! Feisty!* So I tell her I'm going to connect her to the manager and then hang up. Apparently this wasn't sufficient enough for her and she actually calls back. Instead of asking for framing she goes straight for the jugular...she asks for the manager type.
A few moments later, the manager type strolls back into the frame shop with quite a displeased look upon his face. Me being the caring person I am...ignored his presence and finished my soda. He looks at me and asks if I just talked to L**** S*******. I stare at him blankly *A look I have perfected in my years there* and claim complete ignorance. So he goes into detail about what she told him. Instead of letting him ramble for 20 minutes or more, I interrupt him mid-sentence to tell him that I do recall my co-worker mentioned her and that he should talk to her.
Seems this was sufficient enough to allow me time to nap behind my table while he tracked her down. I detest pissy customeres especially when they are complaining about a FRAMING order being a day late. This isn't your car, your child or your kidney...get a handle on yourself.
*All events, people, and napping contained in this entry are completely fictional and are in no way related to or taken from any real events*
(My raise time is coming up soon)
The Memories of a Romantic
(Written by me 2 years ago)
After a "conversation" I had with my ex husband last night, I've came to a conclusion. Other than being thankful we are divorced and his inane babble only has to be heard by me on rare occassions and I always have the option to hang up; Republicans, for the most part, are heartless swine. They go through their entire lives reading statistics and resting completely on logic and reason (or their version of). Much like drones, they are incapable of accepting the views of others no matter how much "sense" they make. I recall a group of people who accepted the actions of their leader no matter how inhumane it was: I think they were called Nazis.
He also informed me that the way I'm raising Morrigan will cause her to become a victim in every definition of the word. I suppose feeding her soul and her heart will lead her to tragedy. But what splendid tragedy that could be! She will live not exist. She will love wholeheartedly. She will feel what I cannot and harbor compassion for all of mankind. What a beautiful creature she is. So different from him. He's cold and uncaring and reflects nothing but his own angst and bigotry. He changes who he is depending on who he is fixated with at the time. That is the true tragedy. Not knowing who you are... I can't imagine that fate. Aren't we all destined for tragedy in some form or another? My tragedy is that I forgive too often and forget more often still. I don't understand the uncaring nature of man or it's selfish acts. I want to live my own story.
--------------------
Last night, Morrigan and I danced in my basement to the soundtrack of moulin rouge. She started laughing so hard she fell in the floor and kept giggling. We danced and sang for almost an hour and a half, loudly and not caring for anyone who heard us. For that period of time, I could recall what being a child was like. To live completely in the moment. To love, laugh, sing and dance. That's elation I couldn't create on my own. She is my reminder that all of the anger, mistrust, and injustice in the world is not that important. In that moment, we were the only two people who existed...us and the music.
She stood in front of the full length mirror that stands in my living room and said,"Momma, I'm beautiful. I have brown hair and brown eyes and so do you. My friend Alicia has brown skin, she's beautiful too. Everyone is a different color, aren't they? Alicia looks like her mommy too."
This statement from her shocked me although I'm not sure why. So simply put and so honest. I told her,"Everyone is different, Morrigan. Even you and I. That's what makes us who we are. There is no normal, you should never want to be anyone but who you are. Everyone is amazing in their own right and we all have our part in the world."
She just looked at me and smiled and then said,"Yeah, I thought so. Mommy, are you happy?" and I said, "You make me happy." and she responds with, "No, I know I make you happy but when I'm not here, what makes you happy?" I said, "The idea that there is beauty in the world that will find me one day." again she smiled and said,
"Do you want to be in love?"
I didn't know what to say, amazing how a 4 year old child can ask the most abrasive questions in the most well meaning way.
"I don't think I'm cut out to be in love, Morrigan"
She frowned at me and said,
"Like the phantom?"
Again, stunned completely
"What do you mean?"
She looked back in the mirror and covered half of her face with her hand and simply said,
"He loved Christine, didn't he? But she didn't love him. There was something wrong with his face and he could be mean and she didn't understand why. His face wasn't so bad, mommy. Someone could have loved him and thought he was beautiful."
I was amazed by this, and at a loss for words. She noticed I didn't say anything about it and looked at me and said,
"It's alright mommy, sometimes you have to know what to see."
After a "conversation" I had with my ex husband last night, I've came to a conclusion. Other than being thankful we are divorced and his inane babble only has to be heard by me on rare occassions and I always have the option to hang up; Republicans, for the most part, are heartless swine. They go through their entire lives reading statistics and resting completely on logic and reason (or their version of). Much like drones, they are incapable of accepting the views of others no matter how much "sense" they make. I recall a group of people who accepted the actions of their leader no matter how inhumane it was: I think they were called Nazis.
He also informed me that the way I'm raising Morrigan will cause her to become a victim in every definition of the word. I suppose feeding her soul and her heart will lead her to tragedy. But what splendid tragedy that could be! She will live not exist. She will love wholeheartedly. She will feel what I cannot and harbor compassion for all of mankind. What a beautiful creature she is. So different from him. He's cold and uncaring and reflects nothing but his own angst and bigotry. He changes who he is depending on who he is fixated with at the time. That is the true tragedy. Not knowing who you are... I can't imagine that fate. Aren't we all destined for tragedy in some form or another? My tragedy is that I forgive too often and forget more often still. I don't understand the uncaring nature of man or it's selfish acts. I want to live my own story.
--------------------
Last night, Morrigan and I danced in my basement to the soundtrack of moulin rouge. She started laughing so hard she fell in the floor and kept giggling. We danced and sang for almost an hour and a half, loudly and not caring for anyone who heard us. For that period of time, I could recall what being a child was like. To live completely in the moment. To love, laugh, sing and dance. That's elation I couldn't create on my own. She is my reminder that all of the anger, mistrust, and injustice in the world is not that important. In that moment, we were the only two people who existed...us and the music.
She stood in front of the full length mirror that stands in my living room and said,"Momma, I'm beautiful. I have brown hair and brown eyes and so do you. My friend Alicia has brown skin, she's beautiful too. Everyone is a different color, aren't they? Alicia looks like her mommy too."
This statement from her shocked me although I'm not sure why. So simply put and so honest. I told her,"Everyone is different, Morrigan. Even you and I. That's what makes us who we are. There is no normal, you should never want to be anyone but who you are. Everyone is amazing in their own right and we all have our part in the world."
She just looked at me and smiled and then said,"Yeah, I thought so. Mommy, are you happy?" and I said, "You make me happy." and she responds with, "No, I know I make you happy but when I'm not here, what makes you happy?" I said, "The idea that there is beauty in the world that will find me one day." again she smiled and said,
"Do you want to be in love?"
I didn't know what to say, amazing how a 4 year old child can ask the most abrasive questions in the most well meaning way.
"I don't think I'm cut out to be in love, Morrigan"
She frowned at me and said,
"Like the phantom?"
Again, stunned completely
"What do you mean?"
She looked back in the mirror and covered half of her face with her hand and simply said,
"He loved Christine, didn't he? But she didn't love him. There was something wrong with his face and he could be mean and she didn't understand why. His face wasn't so bad, mommy. Someone could have loved him and thought he was beautiful."
I was amazed by this, and at a loss for words. She noticed I didn't say anything about it and looked at me and said,
"It's alright mommy, sometimes you have to know what to see."
A Play on Pain
Have you ever watched someone speak about a problem they are having and watch the inner struggle? It's easy to see. Their facial expression changes, hand gestures become more fluid and their eyes cloud over. Venting is a lost art form. It's the shedding of a skin that no longer suits you. So many people take for granted those they have to witness these chips tumble off. And even more people have no one to to snap the pictures. It pains me to see someone I love bear the burden of the entire world on her tiny shoulders and to think to myself that there's nothing I can do to ease her torment. I'd take it from her if I could because, of course, my shoulders are much stronger and are accustomed to the weight. You can care too much. I've noticed this over the past two days. You are only accountable for YOUR actions and not those of others. She cannot be the closet in which they house their skeletons. Nor should she be. Seeing someone cry because they cannot, as a single individual, cure all that ails the world (her world) is tragic and disheartening. I want to say to her, "Just stop doing it." but I cannot. These aspects are what make up her personality and flow. You can't blame yourself for a car accident because you sold them the car and you are not responsible for saving someone from themselves. You cannot help someone who is not willing to do anything about their situation. A victim is a victim and in some instances become the predator instead of the prey. Preying on the emotions and love of those close to them. It's a vicious cycle of self loathing that can only be stopped by one person, them. This pebble stops spinning for no man. And life began while you were busy worrying about other things. Love, in all it's splendor rests solely on the premise that it is interchangeable. Love gives but from itself. It isn't a parasite and host situation.
The Breath of Acceptance
To see amid the thorns that perfect petal.
To hear through the screams that perfect note.
I think that perhaps I was living in the preface of a sordid novel. To see what would come, how it would unfold, and fear turning the page. And how the fear itself crippled me. I became so bitter and angst filled that the word love itself took on a whole new meaning. That word, it's sound, and by the blow of how it was delivered had the ability, in every right, to topple countries, destroy lives and set the mind ablaze. Though what should I fear? Losing my grip on my mind? Sharing the burden I have alone carried for so long? As the time passes, the burden increases and the same shoulders which bore this weight grow weaker and the shifting of life has waivered their hold. I long to rest, to shed the terror, pain, and anxiety which has been my second skin. The inability to reason when in the grip of an emotion has a staggering effect on my psyche. It frightens me and so much I fear. That being said... I'm happy. Shocking not only myself but those close to me. And in being happy, I feel guilt. A guilt placed long ago when in every fashion I was conditioned that everything comes at a price and love is no exception. What price am I willing to pay? Perhaps the price is loss, but of what? Losing the one thing that has been preserving me for so long. Apathy. Apathy has been what applies to most people in my life, save a few. Unconditional love is the myth, the proverbial unicorn. Why do I feel wrong for being happy and in so, growing more so by the day. To feel, to pine and long for someone's presence even if nothing was said. To sleep easier at night knowing they are there. The longing for a gesture or a simple "good morning". I've never been around someone that amazes me more with every passing day, that I adore with each word said and who can teach me to see things differently. No amount of poetry or dead french authors can teach me this. I enjoyed being alone but now I wonder how I survived.
To hear through the screams that perfect note.
I think that perhaps I was living in the preface of a sordid novel. To see what would come, how it would unfold, and fear turning the page. And how the fear itself crippled me. I became so bitter and angst filled that the word love itself took on a whole new meaning. That word, it's sound, and by the blow of how it was delivered had the ability, in every right, to topple countries, destroy lives and set the mind ablaze. Though what should I fear? Losing my grip on my mind? Sharing the burden I have alone carried for so long? As the time passes, the burden increases and the same shoulders which bore this weight grow weaker and the shifting of life has waivered their hold. I long to rest, to shed the terror, pain, and anxiety which has been my second skin. The inability to reason when in the grip of an emotion has a staggering effect on my psyche. It frightens me and so much I fear. That being said... I'm happy. Shocking not only myself but those close to me. And in being happy, I feel guilt. A guilt placed long ago when in every fashion I was conditioned that everything comes at a price and love is no exception. What price am I willing to pay? Perhaps the price is loss, but of what? Losing the one thing that has been preserving me for so long. Apathy. Apathy has been what applies to most people in my life, save a few. Unconditional love is the myth, the proverbial unicorn. Why do I feel wrong for being happy and in so, growing more so by the day. To feel, to pine and long for someone's presence even if nothing was said. To sleep easier at night knowing they are there. The longing for a gesture or a simple "good morning". I've never been around someone that amazes me more with every passing day, that I adore with each word said and who can teach me to see things differently. No amount of poetry or dead french authors can teach me this. I enjoyed being alone but now I wonder how I survived.
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