Caterwauling

Hi (Demure),

I am having some difficulty with the additional project I’ve been assigned, which is to give a dummy layout to you and (King Kumquat) by noon today.

With the ad list coming from (Graphic Goddess) on the 13th and from (Ad Angel) on the 16th, I really don’t know on this date how many ads I will end up with and where they will be placed. My expectation is that we run give-or-take the same quantity of ads (oftentimes from the same advertisers) from month to month. The rule is to put them at the bottom of the page, that’s all I can really say at this point. i have sent e-mails to (Ad Angel) and (Graphic Goddess) to ask if they can sneak me a quick preview of the lists they will generate. (Graphic Goddess) can, in fact, get me an advance list.

My concern is that I will spend some time assembling this dummy layout, but unfortunately in the publishing world, things change on a dime. For instance, (Town Crier) handed me an obituary that (King Kumquat) would like for me to pull together. At this moment, it could be a two-column-inch obit or it can be a feature story — it’s anyone’s guess. Accordingly, i don’t want to give you a layout and have you wonder why I give you something completely different in two weeks.

At any rate, I of course can give you something, but I think my time would be better spent working on the stories I have been putting on the back burner as I am trying to rapidly learn how to do the editor’s job.

Thank you for your consideration,

(The Goddess) Dawn

I will now light MYSELF on fire. 🙂 The Veggie Patch, too.

Tiff and I came up with a brilliant (well, it was mostly Tiff’s idea) children’s toy — The Veggie Patch Playset! Complete with Enraged Banshee Dawn dressed as Malibu Barbie and Anatomically Correct Gay Ken with their little friend Transvestite Skipper, who strips for Gay Ken when Barbie’s at work. Veggie Patch Maddie comes ripping across the house for food in the flavors cats naturally crave. And for an extra co-pay, horse tranquilizers are included!

Holiday party is tonight. King Kumquat and P. Demure want my plans in writing by noon today. I stayed late last night working on one — I have the more difficult one to do today. Y’Know, I had this problem when I was at Two Strikes — I spent more time MAKING plans than I did DOING WORK. So guess who’s going to be in the office this weekend, working on her stories? Hmm? Take a wild fucking guess.

I have been playing their games so damned beautifully, I could just cry. And then, P. Demure met with me yesterday. TEMPORARY raise, TEMPORARY promotion, until an editor is named. And I have this bizarre title now, and I asked why, and she told me that I can thank past events for that. She said the (essentially bonus check) and its accompanying strange title were non-negotiable, and that was that. I told her that well, since I am doing the work anyway, I might as well be compensated for it, and for the record, a title is just that — a title. Now excuse me so I can go to my office and cry.

I’ve thought it best to not publish anything else related to work during the past few days, even though I have volumes of e-mails that I’ve sent to friends far from here. I’d just prefer to deal with this shit myself, without anything breaking my desperately needed concentration. But it’s like the lights are out, and I’m working on a backup generator right now. Although, last night I switched out of safety mode and into meltdown mode. Playing the game accordingly, I’m going to HR for an EAP brochure today (she witnessed part of my meltdown as I polished off my third pack of cigarettes in three days late last night, outside the building). She was very kind to me and told me straight-up that yes, I’ve got a lot to overcome, but the fact that I am showing up says a lot about me, too.

Shan and I have the words “faded memory” tacked up on Post-It Notes at our desks. And that is what this is going to eventually become for us. I told her my heart can’t break anymore — it is held together by invisible threads. And something Tiff said long ago when her own heart was broken has stuck with me — you can’t put a bandage over a wound that needs stitches. So when I get this issue to bed, I am going to work on mending me. I just hope I don’t crack in half before that time can arrive.

Although the blog is down, I have so much pent-up emotion that I am about to shift from safety mode to meltdown mode. I am keeping my sanity together by talking (really talking) with friends and by just showing up at work and making a go of it. I love being busy and needed and productive, and although it seems like I’m only just starting to move up the mountain, well, at least I moved forward and not backward.

Not sure what the situation at work will bring. Moneywise and titlewise, I’m still in the same place, which just sucks. But I am also aware of the fact that I am lucky to still have the job at all, given how hard I had to fight for it, but that they are also kind of waiting to see where my loyalties lie. And the loyalties are still where they used to be, but I think the primary loyalty has been, and will always be, to myself. I don’t have to love the place and the situation — I just have to accept it and make it work to my advantage. That’s all. Nobody expects me to tattoo the initials of the workplace to my ass, but they are watching not only for me to screw up (because I know I’m being observed) but also for me to dazzle them. I may do both, but here’s to hoping for the latter to prevail!

“Lily is dancing

on the table

We’ve all been

Pushed

Too far

I guess on days

like this

you know who your

friends are

Just another dead fag

to you that’s all

Just another light missing

on a long taxi ride

taxi ride

And I’m down to

Your last cigarette and

this “We are one” crap

as you’re invading

This thing you call

Love – she smiles

way too much but

I’m glad you’re

on my side, sure

I’m glad you’re on

my side still

You think you deserve

a trust fund

Just because you

Want one

Sure you talk the talk

when you need to

I fear

the whole world is

starting to

Believe you

Just another dead fag

to you that’s all

Just another light missing

in a long taxi line

taxi line

And I’m down to

Your last cigarette and

this “We are one” crap

as you’re invading

This thing you call

Love – she smiles

way too much but

I’m glad you’re

on my side, sure

I’m glad you’re on

my side still

Lily is dancing

on the

table

We’ve all been pushed

Too far today

Even a glamorous

Bitch can be in

need

this is where you know

the honey

from the

Killer bees

I’m glad you’re on

my side

sure

I’m glad you’re on

my side

sure

I’m glad you’re on

my side still

Got a long taxi ride

Got a long taxi ride”

— Tori Amos, “Taxi Ride” —

“You’re caught in someone else’s tragedy

lighting matches in the wind

but you’re already lost so there’s no turning back

From the places you’ve forgotten to the ones you never left

from all the things you said to all the things you really meant

from everything you might have been to everything you are instead

here’s to no regrets, here’s to no regrets.”

— Jodi Sheeler, “No Regrets” —

It would be easy for me to fall face-down into a puddle of regret right now, but so help me, it’s onward (and presumably, upward) from here.

Battled for my job. The powers-that-be somehow got the impression (not out of my own mouth) that I fully intended to follow IKEA Boy out the door. Sadly, not one of them dared to confront me about that till today, and well, I refuted it. ASAP. Vehemently, too.

I explained that other than my disappointment about the raise/promotion not happening on schedule, otherwise, I am perfectly fine with my job and I’m more than competent to do it as well as to shoulder my sudden shitload of additional responsibility. I played the role beautifully, but it really angered me that I had to be placed in such a position to fight for my job, and it wasn’t of my own doing. From what they told me, they had been informed by my very own supervisor that I have been bitter and disgusted for a long while, and well, it’s only natural that they went on the information that was presented to them.

It was a time for many revelations on their part. For instance, as far as IKEA Boy not getting his tuition, well, guess what — they were looking at a way to make it up to him throughout the upcoming semester, but his conversation with the cruise director at Club Medicated didn’t get that far because he quit before the offer could be made. Granted, I wasn’t in the room when it all went down, but for the fact that they seemed to have a good plan, well, I hate to say it but I was damn impressed with them.

As for me, it is my assumption that if they were going to do right by him, well, I was next on the list. And it infuriates me that I now have to bend over backward to get what’s now due to me. Granted, I’ve never been scared by a little bit of hard work and a lot of improvising, and well, that is now my future. Of course, this all had to happen on a month when we haven’t been in the office for weeks, and I’m behind as it were with my stories. But I’ve gotten a running start on four of them — rather, I have at least one interview lined up for each. And I am not promising my usual stellar stories, but these will be passable.

I got read the riot act of behaviors that they will no longer put up with (again, not my own behaviors, but new expectations of me and the position that I am presently filling). As the Interim Editor of the Veggie Patch Gazette, I was warned about pushing deadlines and inflicting mood swings on the office, and I gave them a piece of my own mind on that one. I said that I firmly believe in professional decorum, and if I’m having a bad day, well, that’s my own problem, and I am going to slap a smile on my face like I have always done and make sure the world thinks I’m having a ball. I told them that while I am torn in a thousand directions right now, well, I’ve essentially tossed down my anchor and I’m in for the long haul, but that I am going to need their support in order to pull off what will be, essentially, a miracle, given that deadline day is in a week and press day is in two weeks.

And I promised to go to the Veggie Patch Holiday Fiesta on Friday. Overwhelming joy is not the first phrase that will escape my mouth on that front, but you know what? I had such an outpouring of support from the staff, vendors and editors with whom I have been in contact that, well, I might just have a shot in hell of making this work. And as far as the Fiesta, some of the girls from Operations told me that they were glad that I was coming along (we all ended up smoking outside together today) — they said we’d all figure out a way to make it fun. Nobody’s really bringing a guest, and they indicated that they are looking forward to welcoming me into the smokers’ circle and giving me a chance to relax and laugh. This, my friends, made me very happy, that I haven’t secluded myself so much that they decided to write me off.

I was the office centerpiece today. I was in super-early, and all day, people were casually peeking in, seeing if I really were there. Everyone gave me kind words and asked how I happened to be holding up. I said I was strong, I was ready, I was prepared to go to the mat for this publication. And while my words were rehearsed and crafted for today, well, they weren’t totally empty. What could I tell them? That I’m sick and sad and nauseated and betrayed and hurt and furious? That I have to be the cleanup crew again, and that this time, it’s my career in addition to my sanity that is on the line?

On that note, I have HAD IT with wielding the toilet brush after other people’s shitstorms. HAD IT!!! Granted, I am turning this shitpile into a brilliant opportunity for myself, but god damn it, I need to realize who my friends really are, and when the shit came rolling down the hill, it was Shan who was going to battle for me. It was Shan who persuaded the crew to give me an opportunity to say my peace. It was Shan who listened to me rant and rave and curse and cry, and it was Shan who coached me on how to pull off that meeting today so that I was the one in control and I was the one who got the most satisfaction from it.

I assured the crew that I am the person that they want to have in their lifeboat during a crisis, that I am brilliant at rising from the ashes, so to speak. And unfortunately, I am going to be operating on crisis mode till I get this issue to the printer, but I assured them that I am going to get us out of crisis mode for the next issue. I was honest with them — they wanted to know my strengths and deficiencies, and I even gave them a game plan for how I plan to compensate for those deficiencies. Furthermore, I gave them a bunch of managerial suggestions, and I told Pussy Demure that now that she is my direct supervisor, I am going to be needing and demanding direction from her. (oh, god, spare me the agony of that, but I was going full-throttle on my proactiveness.)

I owe the crew a status report tomorrow, although I was fairly pleased to have a status report to give at our meeting, as well. I don’t have much more, unfortunately, but I did report that one of my deficiencies is clearly the lack of time. And while I promised to work 24/7 to get the paper out, well, I have a screaming migraine and just can’t take another minute more of Veggie Patch semantics.

On that note, Yellow-Haired Bitch resurfaced during the last two days. I am going to punch her, next time I see her. I swear it. She has gone too far in making Shan’s life hell, and I made Shan march straight down to Frosty’s office to report the hostile working environment that Yellow-Haired Bitch has created for her. (I acutally got someone fired for creating a hostile working enrvironment for me — I kept a log, filed a grievance, and she was ordered to attend mandatory counseling, which she failed to do. So she got canned. I was never so fucking happy in my life, although I myself had quit the job by then, which had only compounded my joy.)

Anywho, Yellow-Haired Bitch was screaming in Shan’s face today, pointing her finger in her face and leaning over her desk, raging at her. For nothing. Of course. It was similar to the way, after our Sept. 23 press conference, that she cornered me in the ladies’ room and ripped me to shreds at the highest imaginable volume. And Shan snapped and got up and made her back the fuck off. At that point, after we had a long talk, I assured her to be proactive and get herself into Frosty’s office. Unfortunately, Yellow Haired Bitch is the Cruise Director’s little yellow haired golden retriever pet. He loves her. Adores the bitch. Argh. So this was tricky territory, so we armed Shan with some good human-resourcey catchphrases, and well, Frosty responded well to Shan.

And as their meeting ended (near 7 p.m. — I just got off the phone with Shan), Frosty mentioned that I did beautifully in our meeting today. Woo Hoo!!!

I’d once told Shan that when we go into business together, we should have a logo of us standing back-to-back, holding each other up as we keep all the plates spinning with our hands. We reflected on that today, and well, after today, as we hugged each other in Cruise Director’s office after today’s onslaught of agony, it seemed like a prophecy come true.

The good thing is, if I can get a decent night’s sleep, I’ll be ready for tomorrow. It’s good to finally be using my brain again — it kind of went dormant for awhile. While I resent the situation that was forced upon me, and the manner in which it blindsided me, well, no more complaining. I didn’t get myself into this mess, but I’m digging myself out of it. And after that, I am THROUGH with everybody else’s messes. Mark my words.

Another horoscope, this time from the Washington Post. MUCH more encouraging!!!

Gemini: Following delay, you receive promotion and green light to undertake creative project. Don’t tell all; maintain aura of exclusivity. You don’t have complete story. Pisces involved.

Courtesy of Astrocenter.com:

“Dear Dawn, here is your Horoscope for January 07, 2003

Relations with partners of all kinds – business, romantic, creative –

might be somewhat strained today, dawn. You and the other parties

involved could have been under a lot of stress, and you might find

yourselves snapping at each other. It might be a good idea to keep

contact between you and your partners at a minimum. If you can’t,

try to be cordial and cooperative – even if you don’t feel like it!”

I have to go in and fight for my job tomorrow. This fact does not overjoy me. In fact, it makes me want to throw up. The job isn’t bad, but the salary issue is what has bummed me out for the past two months. It seems that Frosty was actually moved by our conversation today, but Pussy Demure is going to be the tougher sell. Not sure where Jackie stands on his opinion of me, but I’ve got to essentially re-interview for my job. Only, this time, I’ve got to mean it. And I will. Tomorrow. 🙂

And then, I am going to go in and play the game. It’s all I can do. Perhaps they will help me to resurrect my passion that has dwindled so rapidly in recent months. But first, I have to demonstrate that willingness to pick up the ball and run with it. And I will, you can count on it. ‘Cause I really need to pay my bills. 🙂 But I am hurt and frustrated right now, and I need to knock myself out and get a good rest, because opportunity is knocking, and god damn it, I am going to throw open the door, polish the ashes off of my shoulders, and shine like I know that only I can. Unfortunately, I was the one left standing on the bridges that were burned today, and I wasn’t even the one who torched them. But let me tell you, this is the last mess that I clean up this year — mark my words. In adversity, though, I find my strength, and well, tomorrow, I put myself to the test once again. Here’s to hoping that I pass with flying colors. …

Shan just called and wants to see me ASAP. Apparently Pussy Demure had a few things to say about ME, so she wants me to hear it in person. This can’t be good. I’ve got to go throw on something OTHER than my jammies, and I’m heading to the Veggie Patch to go grab Shan and find out what hell I have to deal with tomorrow. …