I'm sad to say I'm feeling frustrated, restless and disappointed.
My job isn't doing it for me any more.
We're redesigning - again. We have to be "out of the box." First of all, readers hate redesigns. Second, why are we wasting time and money on this? Third, upper management isn't taking our suggestions anyway so why bother? I mean seriously let's can the food critic who this week said, "The roll has lots of bread." Sadly, this isn't a one-time goof up. He'll never get fired though as he's part of the boys' club -- another reason I'm not happy there.
Don't get me wrong, my boss is amazingly awesome. The rest of the department mostly is great too. OK one kid has convinced himself he's getting laid off and I'm pretty sure he's stopped caring, unless it's to question something I've done, which I've got to admit is really starting to piss me off.
And journalism just isn't as exciting either. I'm tired of people getting in my face over it. Did you know "jive" isn't a work? But "jibe" is. Woe to the person who gets that wrong. Gee, I'm bloody fucking sorry I'm the only person editing two full newspapers. Seriously, I don't think the general public grasps how difficult this field is.
And not only is it difficult, but for the vast majority, we work for fucking peanuts. My friend David works as a high school English teacher. He makes about $14,000 more than me. It's not like he's been working there for decades. He's in his third year. He's bought himself a two-bedroom house with a yard. What have I got? Credit card debt. Lovely.
But then if I don't do journalism, what am I going to do? I really don't want to go back to school. My degree feels completely fucking useless. So you know what fuck you, media readers. Fuck you for nitpicking over piddly things like "jive" vs "jibe." Fuck you for claiming we're too nosey and not nosey enough. Fuck you for wanting only puppies, kittens and rainbows but blame us for not reporting crime. Fuck you for thinking the media is some kind of god. No, we're just as human as you. We aren't locked in some ivory fucking town looking down upon the world to see what's happening. We're in the community. We are part of the community. We shop at the grocery store. We have kids in the schools we cover. We are the public too.
OK, phew. I feel a little better, but I'm still pretty pissed.
I'm aggravated because as Koleeta put it I'm in the downtime -- that horrible, icky time between compatible men. Like seriously I'm totally awesome so why am I so alone? I feel like I'm not going to get married. I'm not going to have children. It's just going to be me. Which is probably a good thing considering how little I make. I just hate that now that I'm conscious of all my great traits, that I'm alone. Like WTF?
To make matters worse, the neighbor downstairs had sex tonight, right on cue. OK he was like 15 minutes early, but still. I had to hear his partner moaning and I'm fairly certain he put her up against a wall. Then I swear to blog I heard her orgasm. So ridiculously not fair. And fuck that dude for complaining about me making too much noise at night.
Trouble was had last weekend, as promised. requiem and I only managed to make it to the second half of the Derby Dolls bout. It was all my fault and I feel really guilty. We had dinner with my friends in Newport beforehand. Big mistake. Two of them arrived way late and of course service was lousy and took forever.
When we finally did make it to the game, we'd missed his friend's turn jamming and she was of course out of the game with a concussion thanks to a skate to the head. Man did she have a lump. Ran into grendel7 at the after party.
Oh and requiem bought me a new snow jacket. A little late but there's always next year!
OK I need to eat. I was going to cook but I'm leery of my food. The pound of strawberries and little thing of blackberries I bought last week molded. The ground turkey I bought the same day looks kind of green, but I can't tell if that's me or if it's some how spoiled as well.
Oh and my roommate's dog stinks and he barks too damn loud and too much. He keeps eating the cat's food. And my roommate's dinner tonight smells horrible.
OK this made me feel loads better. Seriously I snorted worse than breezey ever could hope to and I cried.
My job isn't doing it for me any more.
We're redesigning - again. We have to be "out of the box." First of all, readers hate redesigns. Second, why are we wasting time and money on this? Third, upper management isn't taking our suggestions anyway so why bother? I mean seriously let's can the food critic who this week said, "The roll has lots of bread." Sadly, this isn't a one-time goof up. He'll never get fired though as he's part of the boys' club -- another reason I'm not happy there.
Don't get me wrong, my boss is amazingly awesome. The rest of the department mostly is great too. OK one kid has convinced himself he's getting laid off and I'm pretty sure he's stopped caring, unless it's to question something I've done, which I've got to admit is really starting to piss me off.
And journalism just isn't as exciting either. I'm tired of people getting in my face over it. Did you know "jive" isn't a work? But "jibe" is. Woe to the person who gets that wrong. Gee, I'm bloody fucking sorry I'm the only person editing two full newspapers. Seriously, I don't think the general public grasps how difficult this field is.
And not only is it difficult, but for the vast majority, we work for fucking peanuts. My friend David works as a high school English teacher. He makes about $14,000 more than me. It's not like he's been working there for decades. He's in his third year. He's bought himself a two-bedroom house with a yard. What have I got? Credit card debt. Lovely.
But then if I don't do journalism, what am I going to do? I really don't want to go back to school. My degree feels completely fucking useless. So you know what fuck you, media readers. Fuck you for nitpicking over piddly things like "jive" vs "jibe." Fuck you for claiming we're too nosey and not nosey enough. Fuck you for wanting only puppies, kittens and rainbows but blame us for not reporting crime. Fuck you for thinking the media is some kind of god. No, we're just as human as you. We aren't locked in some ivory fucking town looking down upon the world to see what's happening. We're in the community. We are part of the community. We shop at the grocery store. We have kids in the schools we cover. We are the public too.
OK, phew. I feel a little better, but I'm still pretty pissed.
I'm aggravated because as Koleeta put it I'm in the downtime -- that horrible, icky time between compatible men. Like seriously I'm totally awesome so why am I so alone? I feel like I'm not going to get married. I'm not going to have children. It's just going to be me. Which is probably a good thing considering how little I make. I just hate that now that I'm conscious of all my great traits, that I'm alone. Like WTF?
To make matters worse, the neighbor downstairs had sex tonight, right on cue. OK he was like 15 minutes early, but still. I had to hear his partner moaning and I'm fairly certain he put her up against a wall. Then I swear to blog I heard her orgasm. So ridiculously not fair. And fuck that dude for complaining about me making too much noise at night.
Trouble was had last weekend, as promised. requiem and I only managed to make it to the second half of the Derby Dolls bout. It was all my fault and I feel really guilty. We had dinner with my friends in Newport beforehand. Big mistake. Two of them arrived way late and of course service was lousy and took forever.
When we finally did make it to the game, we'd missed his friend's turn jamming and she was of course out of the game with a concussion thanks to a skate to the head. Man did she have a lump. Ran into grendel7 at the after party.
Oh and requiem bought me a new snow jacket. A little late but there's always next year!
OK I need to eat. I was going to cook but I'm leery of my food. The pound of strawberries and little thing of blackberries I bought last week molded. The ground turkey I bought the same day looks kind of green, but I can't tell if that's me or if it's some how spoiled as well.
Oh and my roommate's dog stinks and he barks too damn loud and too much. He keeps eating the cat's food. And my roommate's dinner tonight smells horrible.
OK this made me feel loads better. Seriously I snorted worse than breezey ever could hope to and I cried.
VIEW 25 of 38 COMMENTS
mistersatan:
I've done harder things.
moonrabbit:
Come up to BC. We'll buy a squid boat. But secretly we'll be pirates and raid merchant ships.