Matt broke my coffee pot while cleaning it last weekend. When I came downstairs on Saturday morning, he told me, "I've got some bad news."
At first I thought, "who died?" But then he said, "well, it's not terrible, but it's kinda bad. I broke your coffee pot."
Okay. We can deal with that.
Looking at his face, tormented by fear of my wrath, I thought, "what kind of monster am I that this kind of news would upset me?" Is he really that scared of me?
Apparently he is. Immediately after breaking said coffee pot, he got online and ordered me a new one. Good man.
The new coffee pot came in today. No harm done, I say. I've been enjoying ordering my small coffees at the little cafe downstairs from my office. The cafe's run by a Korean couple who seem to delight in teaching me new Korean phrases. I can practically carry a conversation with them entirely in Korean: "Good morning. Small coffee, please? Thank you. Here you go. Thank you, good bye!"
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I felt like such a loser today. It was as if I couldn't do anything right. I got hassled three times today, and I don't know why I'm so sensitive sometimes -- I'm a different person at work than in day-to-day life, I swear -- but I'll be damned if I didn't hold back some tears at some point during the day.
I'll admit, I'm really distracted by this copywriting thing. I sent my friend my resume two weeks ago and after contacting her once, I only got one lackluster response saying, "I'll talk to Mr. CD (who's out of town right now) and let you know." Just enough to keep me hanging on.
And if I get the interview or the invitation to send writing samples, I don't know what I'll do. Fuck! I'm so unprepared, yet unwilling to prepare my shit while I still have the time.
Welcome to Procrastination-ville, population ME. Enjoy your stay, although be forewarned, the air is thick with self-doubt and gratuitous laziness.
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I'm tired of browsing through my favorite blogs and then stumbling upon politically infused ramblings. They're boring.
You'll never know who I favor because the truth is I don't favor anyone. Yeah, I'm a lazy American -- I'm not voting, nor am I blogging about my most likely mal-informed opinions -- but whatever. I can't wait until this dang election is over and the blogosphere can get back to normal. There are more interesting things to talk about. Like sex. And farts. And poop. And cats and music and day-to-day observations that make you go whatthefuck. Because I'll bet that a helluva lot more people know more about those particular subjects and have the potential to make interesting blog posts on them.
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Know what else I'm tired of? Moving boxes and boxes of promotional movie material for shipment. That shit is tiring, and quite frankly I don't think I'm the best person to do this job. Oh, okay, that's the distraction talking. I'm just ready to get paid for using my brain, not my
muscles. Ha! Yeah, but seriously, I'm not strong enough to lift 40 lbs. That seems to be my limit. Unless I've had a steak lunch and am feeling extra testosteroney.
But...it is kind of nice to go to lunch and then have a nice little workout to burn off the calories. Oh shit, the promo closet's a mess, better move some boxes! Let's send some stuff out like now! It's the reason I can get away with not working out and staying a size 2 (with love handles, mind you) these days.
I'm not a meat-head.
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My new job manifesto:
1. In my new job, I will be able to wear whatever I want. And by that I mean jeans, a Sonic Youth t-shirt and Vans. Every day.
2. I will not be in a position to be yelled at. I want just enough responsibility to feel like a vital part of the ad campaign, but not so much that I get yelled at. There needs to be a filter of some sort by way of a creative director or account executive. Ideally, I'd be the creative force behind a genius campaign, and the quiet copywriter in the shadows when things go awry.
3. I will be accepted for who I am, moodiness and all. Or not. I just want to be in an environment in which the other creative sorts enjoy my company when I'm
on, and leave me alone (no questions) when I'm
off.
4. I want to be comfortable enough with the creative team to invite them to my shows, whenever that happens.
5. I will be paid more than $30,000 annually. It's incomprehensible that someone with five years of work experience is working in Dallas and making less than that. It happens, people.
(Negotiable)
6. I will be in a position to show my work at Cannes, the Addys or any kind of competitive realm.
7. My new agency will have a gaming system and/or pool table.
8. My art director will be my artistic soul mate. And by that I mean likes 60% of the bands I name, smokes and is a gay man who is not at all bitchy (except for in the totally right ways) and will people-watch with me on lunch breaks.
9. Minimal contact with the CEO, unless of course, they are totally cool, but that is a long shot.
10. Kick-ass vacation time after three months on the job. Like, two weeks a year. Sad, but that's my idea of good vacay time.
(Not gonna happen, but it's nice to dream)
11. I will not be made uncomfortable because I am a woman. Most likely my team will be made up of mostly men, and the fact that I'm unmarried, living with a guy, AND can lift up to 40 lbs will throw them off, but I dream of an environment in which they accept me as a dude, and abstain from discussing totally gross subject matter because that's just not gentlemanly.
12. I will not bitch when I get put on soft campaigns like Kotex or cleaning products. You know, because I'm a woman.
13. There will be Tequila Thursdays, followed by Freudian Fridays, which of course will be held at the nearest dive bar, and everyone's free to go at 1 PM.
14. A monthly meeting at Dallas Museum of Art is in order. You know, to remind us of what "real art" is.
15. I can manage their company blog. I already manage the blog at my current company. My lack of contribution should be indicative of how dedicated a citizen I am to Procrastination-ville.
Population ME.
You can stay as long as you like. But it's nearly impossible to leave. *
* Eagles reference. Must site this, as you will think I'm a douche if I don't.
