I am love with folding bones. I had to fold 1000 newsletters (I had help), and it saved my life/my fingertips. I do not need one for everyday life, but I am contemplating purchasing a small one and then getting back into Origami.
This is most privileged idea I’ve had all summer, and I am including the contemplation of purchasing multiple pairs of rain boots in different colors, so I would always match.
I want to talk about boys, and movies, and nail polish, and who decided clogs were cool again, about colors, about why it’s so fucking hot, about hair, and studying abroad, about why I’m scared to study abroad, about what a girl does for a month in Europe, about our favorite foods, about the best song we’ve heard recently, about pop music, about Lady GaGa, about this play I found, about stupid stuff, about shoes, about politics, about what our friends are doing and who has successfully made out with who.
I want to talk about books, the books I said I was going to read, the books I did read, the books we want to read, the books we should read but won’t, about baking, and spices, and why cayenne pepper + fresh squeezed lime juice + salt is the best thing you can put on summer fruits, about the tree I climbed in my nice clothes just because it was there and no one was looking. About when we started caring about people looking, about how I haven’t worn pants in almost two months and how that is kind of liberating, but stressful, how being a lady is liberating and stressful, I want to talk about zac efron’s hair.
I do not want to talk about my job, or work, or the things they keep asking me to do, about crying in the bathroom because the spot on my back to the left of my spine that all my stress goes to, the spot that starts hurting in October and doesn’t stop till June is hurting now and I hate it, and this is summer, and this is not what summer is for, and I wish I could say no, and I don’t want to talk about why I can’t say no so I end up working on weekends, and I don’t want to talk about it because I am scared that this is what it is like to be Grown Up and I hate it and I hate this, and I want to go home, but I am home, and I want my mom, but she is so proud of me and keeps making comments about my weight, and I am tired like its school, but it is tiredangry not tiredtired and I don’t like that I understand that distinction.
I want to talk about something stupid and fun and fluffy and brightly colored that smells like vanilla and citrus, and I painted my nails neon orange to feel better, and I do not feel better, but my toes still look silly. I want to talk about girly shit and non girly shit, and I want to talk about things that make me feel like myself again, because I can’t find her and I miss her, and this tired angry person that replaced her sleeps and works all the time and is no fun to be around. I want my back to stop hurting.
I want to talk about boys.
This is Part two. It has very little to do with part one, except that they are both things that have happened to me.
So I have a weird, complicated job that is hard to explain, so I’ve stopped trying to explain it. Mostly. But my Mother taught me that when you get a job, you do it and you do it well. This is not a common sentiment? That is one of the things I’ve learned this summer. Competency is something that I find incredibly attractive (Oo Boy. I see you filing that stack of papers before you’re asked. C’mere and let me holla at you), and that I aspire too. Competency is so hot right now. However, however, however, I seem to be in the minority in this regard. So I’ve been doing a lot of extra work, because my two group members suck their teeth so much they’re going to loose a tooth, and, like I was a sarcastic middle schooler, okay? But I have never rolled my eyes this much. I won’t go into my delicate sensibilities being offended by how rude and disrespectful a lot of these kids are, but. My delicate sensibilities, they are hurt.
So I do a lot of work, and it kind of pisses me off, but I do it anyway because it’s my job and no one else is going to do it. And we were told that we weren’t going to get overtime, so I was mostly doing this out of the “goodness” of my heart, i.e. I literally can’t comprehend not doing something you are tasked with, even if you’re only getting 30 hours of minimum wage for it. You do it cause it’s your job, the end. But last Friday I learned that I might (Might, might, maybe, we’ll see) be getting compensated for the extra work I’m doing. This made me happy (more money! maybe), but also, still pissed me off. I shouldn’t be getting compensated, possibly, for work that someone else should be doing. There is above and beyond, and there is picking up slack. I hate picking up slack, and something about (perhaps, could be, we’ll try) getting paid extra for it, sits with me funny.
I think this is what some people call Morals? Maybe, could be, we’ll get back to you.
This is why you don’t complain. Even in your head, even in your blog, even to your mom.
I am very busy now. Over the next week I have 11…stories? things? that need to be written. They range in size from a two sentence blurb, to a properly fleshed out article for a newsletter. I am not counting the number of e-mails I need to send. For some reason, e-mails take me eons to write. Facebook messages too. If you have ever received one, be cheered by the fact that I agonized over it for at least a full ten minutes, even if it ended up being 3 sentences long. I don’t pretend to understand my neuroses, I just accept them and move on.
ANYWAY. This would usually not be a big deal, but I am working on ridiculously short deadlines, I am a perfectionist when it comes to my own, non-academic(!) work, and I am going to Canada all weekend for a wedding. So this all needs to be done by Thursday. Did I mention that I don’t get payed overtime? I don’t get payed overtime. So pretty much all of this is happening in my “free time.”
Did I say I was going to stop complaining? I am going to stop complaining. The silver lining! I will have a portfolio with two (2!) journal type things that I helped create and so many writing samples it will make me vomit. Vomit with the awesome (?) experience I am getting.
Brighter news! I have some really fucking cute shoes for Steph’s wedding. My French teacher is really adorable, and makes me feel bad for knowing enough French that he thinks I understand him, when in fact I have just mastered the “ew/uh” sound French people make, and their vague hand motions. I’m an actress, not a French speaker, and unfortunately there will be no scripts on the night when I go to Paris. Too far?
His adorableness makes me forgive the fact that because of his class, I don’t get home till 9:30 on Mondays.
I am the same sort of tired that starts clawing at my eyes and bones during 4th week. I shouldn’t feel like this; it’s summer. It’s catlazinesslimeslowdrowsyhotstickysun tired, not cycling between so tired you can’t sleep to so wired you pass out the moment you’re horizontal. I’ve had a headache since 11th grade that won’t go away and I’m afraid it’s what the rest of my life will feel like.
The shoes are real fucking cute.
Today went well. I will do doing a shitload of writing this summer, which is incredibly exciting. Writing and interviewing and putting together an arts journal. If all goes according to plan (what plan?) there should be a tangible object with my name attached to it by the end of the summer.
I miss having art I can hold.
That said, I will be “blogging” for the DCCOAS so I might save all of my angry job rants till after the summer, just in case. I have barely begun; it would blow to be fired. But there will still be normal rants? I don’t know, I am kind of an angry person and not very good at holding that anger in. WHAT CAN YOU DO? But yes, today went well, I am optimistic, Truefacts job starts tomorrow, I am joining a gym(?), I made a delicious cheesecake, and I did not make too many snide comment in my head.
I am also going to make a second tumblr to dump my “creative” streamsofconsciouness (I like it better as one word). My writer’s block has left like a bird in winter and I am embracing this before it returns. It may or may not be linked here, who knows.
A link for your time.
Today = Still moving forward
Have been frustrating, to say the least. I’m not here to gripe, well no actually this is my blog and I can bitch all I want, but I’m so done with this job thing, so I’ll keep it short (Note: Not actually short).
The Summer Youth Employment Program (Shit, The Kids Need To Do Stuff So They Don’t Kill Each Other), started by our “lovely” Mayor, basically provides jobs to DC youth ages 14-21, or at least it’s supposed too. These “jobs” range from getting assigned to a national park that sends you home every day after half an hour because they don’t need you, to a White House Internship that has you working 9-5 every day. My position is with the, let’s call it the “DC Commission On Artsy Shit” (DCCOAS), and it falls in between. The job has two parts; let’s call them “Dubious Art Project” and “More Legit TrueFacts Job.”
The Dubious Art Project takes place in Anacostia. Anacostia is in South East DC. SE is known for its gun violence. The wall right across from the building we work in used to be a “murder wall.” It had the name and date of death for everyone in the neighborhood who had been killed. It was nearly full. Now, there are really nice parts of SE, and where I’m working doesn’t look (mostly) like the projects, but I’ve lived here for a really long time, and prior to this summer, had only been in Anacostia once. I was doing clean-up on the Anacostia River, so it kind of doesn’t count. Now, I will be spending all of my Tuesdays in Anacostia. You can’t imagine my joy.
The DAP has many parts: a mural, 3 documentrais, and a radio program all about Anacostia. I am on the Radio Program, and by August we’ll hopefully have a half-hour segment that will go on NPR. Whoo, NPR! The downside is that all of the other “deliverables” (the official term for the DAP’s) need research and “stories,” and my group is responsible for all of them. Read: Now that Alexis has started doing Real! College! Reaserch! It will never stop.
We met the artists we’ll be working with, and they are totally legit. It’s mostly the DCCOAS that’s failing. They are, and I quote, “building this ship as we sail it.” Now I’m not a shipwright, but that sounds like a very Bad Idea. But hey! I’m Not In Charge. I do have some hope for the Dubious Art Project.
Now, the More Legit TrueFacts Job still hasn’t started. I secured the position of Press and Media Assistant at an art gallery awhile ago. I’ve been e-mailing my boss for like weeks, but she can’t have me start till STKNTDSSTDKE says I can start. Which is now next Wednesday, more than a week after I was supposed to start. Instead, I’ve been going to “orientations” for two days to get placed at a position I already had, or, like yesterday, not needing to go into “work” till 4:30, when I had to interview for a position I already had. The interview started at 5:00, and I basically made jokes the entire time. But my boss said they liked me, so bully for me!
Today all I had to do was turn in 4 different pieces of writing, 3 of which I conveniently already had. This will count for my hours this week since technically, STKNTDSSTDKE started on Monday. Whoops?
This was not short at all, but there’s really no concise way of explaining this. But! In happier news, the cupcakes at Border’s are really good and I have a cute new vest. Priorities!
This Week= God, is it over?
