Editing

I never realized how many times I use the word 'had' and 'was' in my writing until I began to edit my own pieces. I generally avoid doing so and prefer others to do it for me (such as in workshops). The current short story I'm working on needs some major revisions. I'd written it over a year ago and figured I could take on the challenge of discovering just how much I suck.

Sentences have been cut and surprisingly few words added. I tend to assume that more words equal better works and, well. No. Is it odd that I do exactly what I berate others for when I take pen to their writing? I'm finding the same comma errors and superfluous words in my short stories I tend to threaten other writers with death with! Is it being blind to ones own flaws or thinking certain things are perfect in pieces an author takes pride in?

I'm not sure. Maybe I'll never be sure. All I know is that this particular bit of dyke literature will be better once I'm done ripping it to shreds with my red mighty pen and send it off to be looked at by a friend. It'll be this works - fourth? Fifth? run through the proverbial shredder. Hopefully this time I might be able to consider it 'done' or at least as close as it's going to get.

A lofty (and arrogant) goal, yes, but what am I going to do without them? I do love the piece I'm working on and hopefully others don't think it's some pompous lesbian stereotypical angst. Cliche is cliche for a reason and I'm doing my damnedest to steer away from it.

Back to work. Until next time!

Bull, Horns, Ect,.

A good portion of people think horoscopes are full of bullshit. They're generalized, they don't really work, how can the planets say something about you, personally, etc., and it's come to my attention that I don't give a flying butt on what other people think of them. For myself, I believe in horoscopes, Tarot cards, the whole she-bang. Ninety-nine percent of psychics are fraud but then again, I told a kid someone was dying when his mother had just been diagnosed with terminal cancer in the eighth grade because the cards told me. I had never seen the boy before.

Lately, my horoscopes and Tarot cards have been giving me a rather specific message: get your life together and DO something about it.

On behalf of the Tarot cards, I asked them a while back the typical single-girl question of "Give me the low down on my lack of love life, please?". Usually when I ask things about myself, they like to tell me to go figure out myself, bugger off, and stop asking questions. That particular time, they told me that I am going to be alone for quite a while, go through a time filled with darkness and pain all alone and lost even when surrounded by people, and in the end it would leave me happy with a lot of paths opening up to me. I'm pretty sure this is the time of alone and lost and darkness because, whoo, my brain is not exactly the nicest place in existence but it gives hope that the crap times will end at some point.

The horoscope's have been telling me I've stopped taking control of my life and falling complacent. Too true - being laid off and strung along by the jobs (oh yeah, both of them) threw me into a clusterfuck of 'what now'. The only physical thing in life keeping me grounded right now is karate and when my three paid months come to an end in August, I don't know if I'll be able to afford more. That'll be super fun.

Every sign I'm getting says I have to DO something, CHANGE something. I have to find something to jump at and do it. Problem is that whatever's out there, I totally don't see it. The plan has been to move in with Dad but he doesn't have his own place in Virginia yet and I have about two hundred and fifty dollars in the bank period, with an insurance payment coming out in two weeks and another car payment coming up. Can't move anywhere, there are no job opportunities in this freaking place anywhere. What, exactly, am I supposed to do?

The more I write this the more I realize this is the talk of someone whose worst choices came from within and not from an outside source. So many people don't have choices on what drastic things change in their life, either from being thrown out of their homes, fired without notice, or, hell, shot in the back of the head when things get nasty. My problems have all stemmed from mental illnesses and if not for the support of those around me, I wouldn't be here anymore. There's no background, to me, on what to do or how to say it.

Maybe I'll edit a story of mine, throw it out there to see if anyone in interested. Kelly is ten times more talented than myself but seeing someone I know (and adore dearly, major hearts for Kelly) get published and go out there again is inspiration. Maybe I'll go to Virginia and chill out with Dad in his hotel, find a job there doing something. Maybe Vancouver, although I can't get any jobs out there just yet.

Maybe in learning Japanese, I'll meet a nice person from Japan and be whisked away to Tokyo or a small town or something. Who knows.

Nothing will get done unless I DO something, right? Right. Until next time!

Surviving Work

I need to understand the mindset of people in charge of offices and I need to do it fast. My two previous half-finished rants were written in the heat of anger and discarded as soon as I realized I was being a huge grouch. This particular upset is something that has been a long-time irritation of mine and something I beleive everyone working in the retail business with less than straightlined bosses can identify with.

The key to running a smooth office is akin to keeping up a good relationship: communication. In this case, I am scheduled to be laid off from my office job and have been told my usual summer job at the hardware store won't be needing me. I spoke to Bossman at the office job; in lieu of my root canal, he said to take of Monday (yesterday) and I asked him to call me over this previous weekend to tell me whether or not he wanted me in this upcoming week.

I worked seventeen hours this weekend for the last time at the hardware store. As far as I know, I never received a call or text message from the Bossman or Bosslady, my supervisor who works directly under him. According to her, she called me once yesterday morning and sent a text -asking where I was-. I don't doubt her as I am still getting used to my Droid and have yet to figure out all this notification mumbo-jumbo that's associated with it. So, I set up an interview with an ice cream place and a day of typical jobless relaxation before the panic set in.

Oh. I also signed up for unemployment. While not something I wanted to do, I saw it as a sign of Doing What I Need To In Order To Survive and thus a sign of maturity. My first summer after being laid off I was too proud to go back to the hardware store or sign up for unemployment. If I had done either of those things, my bank account probably wouldn't be in the shambles it is today. It guaranteed me enough to pay for food, gas, car, and cars insurence, which is all I really give two craps about. My other bills are secondary, frankly, mainly because my mother is affected by any lack of payment on aforementioned car.

This morning, another text message. As I was about to head into the dentist to get my temporary filling inspected (part of it sloughed off yesterday, much to my panic), I got another call from my lovely Bosslady. I sent her a text asking what was up and explaining why I didn't call her back just that second. The resulting conversation frustrated me to no end.

In an effort to not explode on her via text message, I sent another to a coworker of mine. We share the same opinion on Bosslady, he's just a wee bit more vocal about it than myself. He suggested I text Bossman, asking if they needed me in that day because he hadn't talked to me about it previously and being me, I was very confused.

According to Bossman, no, they did not need me today. They had two other people coming in. He -did- make a point of asking me if I could come in tomorrow. Fabulous. Twenty-four hour notice is all I ask, really. Luckily for them, I am unemployed (technically) so why yes, I -can- go in tomorrow. How thoughtful to ask instead of calling me at ten in the morning tomorrow and demanding to know where I was and when I was getting my candy ass in to work.

What seems to be lacking in this whole situation? You've got it, folks! What's missing from this is actually -talking- to one another. It's quite the novel concept and in this day in age it's so very hard to get in contact with one another. FaceBook, text messages, instant messages, phone calls, and plain ol' chit-chatting in the office just doesn't cut it, not really. It's all about the slap-and-dash things, demands, and angry phone messages.

This isn't a post about surviving retail although I wish it were. This post and rant is all about surviving bosses and the frustration they bring, especially when on the larger scale of things they aren't the meanest of people. Bossman has his moments of being a dillweed, this I'll be the first to aknowledge. For the rest of it, he's just a bit absent minded (or chooses not to remember) and an overall nice guy with a few repressed issues. Bosslady tends to be the stereotypical Italian Jersey woman and is not very fun to work with.

It's a balance. I've gotten to the point in my working career where I've gotten used to the constant push and pull of emotions. When bossman is angry, you avoid him like the plague. Bosslady gets yelled at, you avoid her or compliment her shoes. It's what goes on in a small office without cubicles or secrets. It sucks.

Once more for the sake of being redundent: communication. Bosses out there - learn it. Employees - don't ever expect it. They're easier to deal with than customers but ultimately last a lot longer.

Until next time.