I am...a New Yorker

[Previous entry: "Exhausted"]

Saturday, October 27, 2001
Flirtng With Disaster


Wee little puppies n the wndow. So fuckng adorable!


It's a Girl Thng and The Real World, which I didn't realize was back n New York.


Women who regularly give blow jobs can hardly criticize me for what I put n my mouth.


Fang's Halloween care package, fnally. Shame on me, its barely gong to make it there on the 30-31st. I've just been too lazy to get to the post office.


So much empathy for the postal workers n their gloves and masks.


It does no good to check my ID on the big package to Fang, snce a) the ID isn't at all tracked by the package and b) the Anthrax was sent n regular letters which could go out any regular old corner mailbox.


The floor shift under me, as with an earthquake, just when I was startng to nod off. It's always like the end whenever I hear sirens or crashes.

I am...not sure why, but this past week was the week of my worlds collidng.

The first thng that happened, last Monday when I was home sick from work (hey, mental illness and migranes count!), was I emailed a segment producer for a new talk show on a network for women (and homosexuals) about a show concept she'd posted to a mailng list I'm on.

I don't have any idea why I did this, except that somethng about her concept struck me. It is to be a show about people whose creativity is stifled for whatever reason. One of the reasons she listed was due to lack of work. I told her my problem was quite the opposite. My creativity is stifled because I have so much work. I have so many ideas and projects to pursue, but not much time for them or much energy when I have the time. I'm dong my best, but I'm desperate for the time when I can write and actually live from my earnngs.

She was ntrigued. She asked me to call the next day, but of course it was my boss' birthday and I had to go out to get the group card, n addition to all the other thngs I had to do to catch up from the day off and the regular job crazness.

By the way, I can't even remember how many people have told me recently to "be thankful" I have a job at all. I am and the money leaves enough that I even have some extra (enough to put a couple hundred toward fnally startng to pay James back, yay!). I just don't thnk that beng able to pay one's rent is a fuckng privilege. Moreover, I don't thnk anyone should be expected to work overtime just to get by at a job. I'm always comng up with ideas to make thngs more efficient, but I'm n a fuckng hallway -- how much could I possibly get done? Last night I stayed until 7:30 and got more done after 5 than the rest of the day.

Anyway, the segment producer really liked me, thought the biracial essay was well-written and well thought out and that I'm a great candidate for this particular topic. She's gong to talk it over with the producer to see if he agrees. If all works out, I could be a guest on the show, tapng sometime next month.

The second thng that happened was my mom called on Tuesday mornng to let me know she'd decided to "jon the WWW Internet" and to give me her brand-spankng new email address. Suddenly, terrorism and Anthrax are the least immnent of my worries.

The next day, Mom called to let me know that she'd accidentally logged nto my Hotmail address, readng only one message before she figured it out (Help me, Jesus), and she doesn't know how she did it. Search me, as I spent days backng up and cleanng up my computer before I left, even though she said she had no nterest n ever usng it, let alone gong onlne.

The next day, Thursday, we had our web committee meetng. Although I'm a secretary, my boss encouraged me to be on it, given my background. I had proposed this to keep myself nterested and, perhaps as a way to fnally break out of admn hell.

The meetng went well. We made our reccomendations and he fully supported them. We decided to keep n simple, as fun as Flashng up the site and addng all sorts of extras might be. Instead, we focussed on gettng control and havng more up-to-date content on the site.

The fnal reccomendation was to brng n a part time Web Master to serve as a liason between our departments and the corporate Web team. The budget beng what it is, even this might not be practical. When my boss asked if we could identify anyone on staff with the appropriate skills, everyone else at the table nodded at me. The team leader mentioned my sites, plural, which alarmed me at first, but he was referrng to EricaJackson.com, John's site and the one I have n development for a non-profit from which I benefitted n high school.

The problem, of course, is that my boss knows full well I can't get his work done, let alone take anymore.

I'm not sure why, but somehow they got on the subject of havng me tran his former assistant to do web stuff, which makes no sense at all. She knows all his systems, all the board members and isn't too busy to take time to swim or leave on time, except when she has a big mailng or project.

I was adament that she, while her boss was quite correct n positively assessng her computer skills, did not have the technical background to communicate the needs of the departments to the corporate Web Dev department. I'll be damned if I fnally have a chance to get paid for this work I love and the opportunity would go to Ms. I don't believe n Cut & Paste (she will type, prnt out and hand me thngs that I need to ncorporate nto reports nstead of givng me a digital version, 40 mnutes before the meetng), who doesn't want it anyway!

That is more absurdity than even I can bear. I'm hopng for the best.

[Next entry: "Not Imagnng Thngs"]
[Index] [archives] [bio]
[Wish List]

Powered By Greymatter

All text and images 1992-2002 Erica