Caterwauling

Pineapple chicken at #Sunfest

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

I just felt like posting a picture of a pineapple filled with chicken, after Jon Stewart reminded us that bin Laden now lives in a pineapple under the sea. Seems appropriate.

It’s my one-month anniversary, if you can call it that, with one of my jobs. I assume I need to send an invoice, although I am going to bill for about half the work I did, per the original agreement. But shit’s gotta change and I need to write that letter too.

My five hours a week (hah) consists of e-mail back-and-forths, with far more “Back” than “Forth.” And the CEO is very sneaky. She will put me down to my face for everything I suggest, yet run to the owner and tell him all “her” great ideas that came from MY mouth.

So even though I get a billion e-mails from her in a day, I get about a million calls. And I keep trying to keep it in the e-mail, you know? So I have documentation AND so I can cc’ the owner so that he can see how friggin’ incoherent she is.

I remember forwarding an e-mail from an old job to my personal network, and everyone laughed that a publisher would use a line like, “That is SO not okay!” Well, now we’re all snickering over the fact that this idiot rages and then punctuates it with, “No biggie.”

As usual, I have to be the better person. And I see that she works 24/7. But dude, five hours a week here, yo. I brought it up to her that I understand she’s frustrated that the very tiny team is missing deadlines THAT SHE NEVER COMMUNICATED. But we all work less than part-time, and we are all on different schedules.

BUT … we also put in a lot of extra time so we can accommodate each other’s schedules. That means me answering their emails at midnight or at the crack o’ me before they all wake up. That means them having to drop everything because I need something at their 8 a.m. You can bitch all you want that I haven’t touched your imaginary to-do list, but for five hours’ pay and as the only one with publishing experience, you’re lucky I’m still here.

I have mostly always hated my bosses in my life, but there’s just an extra special something awful about this one that will make me crazy if I let her.

Speaking of, there was a good article on BNET.com about whether it’s necessary to have a good personality to be an effective leader.

And as I’ve said about my last couple of supervisors, to quote Jim Belushi, “If she didn’t have a pussy, there’d be a bounty on her head.”

Maybe being an evil cunt whore bitch is the only way to win, you know? I’m not even trying to spare anyone’s feelings but my own these days. I know they’re not happy people, but everyone’s too afraid of them to fire them. Maybe I need to cut back on my peace of mind and start terrorizing people?

That’s what I need! A “terror premium” in my freelance contracts! For when these bitches go on the rag. Yes, that’s my new clause. Dare me NOT to add it!

Anyway, the article posed this question at the end:

“But would you be better off working with someone who’s extremely pleasant but might have ulterior motives, or with someone who’s obnoxious but has a good heart?”

It’s a weird question, given that EVERYONE seems to have ulterior motives … and is also obnoxious. 🙂

But I can work with a good heart. It’s when I peer into their soulless depths and hear the echo chamber of them taking other’s ideas and reciting them as their own that burns my butt.

I’ve already worked with the seemingly nice with the deadly agenda. No thank you. I hear rumors about people I used to call friends, who’ve gotten sucked into the corporate lifestyle and who are pissing on the little people they themselves once were just a couple years ago. They ain’t no friends of mine now.

I dunno. My stomach just cramps up when my phone rings (and rings) from the West Coast. (She hangs up and calls back five times till I either pick up or throw the phone in the ocean.)

What bugs me the most is that I can clearly demonstrate a success record in my area of expertise, and she has the audacity to say that, well, she has opinions too and they need to count. And that’s FINE. But when I can cite case studies of why that idiotic phrase you want me to use actually increases unsubscribes, for fuck’s sake why the tantrum when I suggest that if my documents are too wordy (her words), why don’t we try it without adding that phrase that will make people think we’re idiots?

Speaking of idiots, she is the poster child for abortion. Please don’t outlaw it — think of all the assholes the world DOESN’T contain because of it!

Untitled

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

I <3 my new bling. Almost as much as the “festival diet” that included a half-dozen muffalettas and almost as many beignets, lamb-and-feta sliders and various Captain Morgan cocktails!

(Anyone wanna join me on the post-festival “sex diet” to burn off all that good food? I’d hate to do this one alone. …)

Volunteering was QUITE the experience. I had fun. Of course, our bright-orange shirts made us all look like dreamsicles, but I stuffed that bitch in my bag and got a tan before and after my shifts.

Ah, the shifts. I spent two days in one VIP area. It was fun but tiring. The leader of the area (male) was never around, and all the kids on my shifts basically just came to look toward me to fix everything that went wrong. And I did. 🙂 Well, with as much power as any idiot in an orange shirt can wield. But I met some AWESOME people and we’ve already connected by text and Facebook. So, I win.

Yesterday, I was in another, albeit less-exclusive, VIP area. But I got to sit in the shade instead of standing in the rain, so that was awesome. And I had female supervisors this time around. Which was … different.

The men on my previous days basically had me acting as the accountant, the bouncer and the maid. Given that the median age of the volunteer shift was 15, I understand why. But they left me the hell alone and I loved it.

The women, well, one was awesome. But the one over all of us, including her, was one mean whore. She reminded me of somebody. …

So anyway, this kid Mike joined us for his shift at the table. He was very sweet and smart. I liked him immediately.

The job was easy enough — giving out goofy necklaces (not the one pictured — I bought mine and it was cuter, IMHO) and checking packages in from people who spent ridiculous amounts of money on artwork and who didn’t want to carry it around. Easy-peasy.

The witch sent Mike away to do another job. And she told us that she didn’t trust him — she didn’t want him with all that merchandise.

The gal I became friends with said to me later, “Yeah, I guess that’s because he’s young.”

And I said, “No, it’s because his skin is four shades darker than ours.”

I caught a lot of other comments from this “leader.” Nothing directly harmful, but just enough to make you wonder.

There was another younger girl on our shift who came in to replace him. Very talkative but I didn’t mind. She told me her mom had just overcome breast cancer and meanwhile, her brother came out of the closet and another one is in rehab. Poor momma!

The girl said she was a slacker her whole life, but recently raised her grades by three letters. And she’s joined the Science Club, volunteers at events and works with a group that makes/sells bracelets for breast cancer awareness.

I am so jealous of these kids. My own volunteer experiences at their age was a joke. I never did anything that meant anything, you know? I volunteered at the local hospital and basically got stuck wheeling people around and lining them up in hallways. Very depressing and, frankly, unnecessary.

I did events, too. Anyone remember the Rib Cook-off in South Park? Holla! 🙂

Anyway, it figures that my only fun jobs are the unpaid ones. Woo. Friggin. Hoo.

But it just reinforces that I need to be in leadership because you can trust me to not screw shit up and to fix what IS broken, and because I LOVE getting to know new people and training them and discovering what makes them tick so that I can play to their strengths.

Anyway, the free time I spent there was even better. Styx, Jeff Beck, Memphis Soul Revue, OAR, Earth Wind and Fire, Cherry Poppin Daddies … I heard a lot of great live music. And this is the first year I haven’t gotten a sunburn at the festival — I’m just a normal bronzed goddess. Ah, Florida. I hated you when I got here, but I couldn’t imagine thriving anywhere else….

Sparklies

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

I just realized that I get paid four times less for a hard job in comparison to the other (easier, better, and more pleasant) job where I get paid four times more! What gives?

It’s Wicked Witch of the West Coast time. Whee! She was threatening to fire me today. She may still. I dunno. Once again, I am smarter/more experienced/more-capable and -competent and, yet, I’m the one making the little bucks but getting the big headaches.

I was just thinking about adding another job to the failure pile when I read an e-mail that didn’t send me into convulsions. (Unlike all the others.) It’s from the Daily OM, and today’s message is fittingly called “The Upside of Irritation.” To wit:

“The more we try to eliminate annoyances, instead of learning to handle them gracefully, the further we get from developing the qualities that come with spiritual growth, such as patience, tolerance, and acceptance. It is often in the presence of people and experiences we find annoying that we have an opportunity to develop these qualities. Fortunately for most of us, our lives offer an abundance of opportunities to practice and cultivate these traits.”

The thing this person can’t figure out is the rest of us are signed up to work five hours a week (others are 10 or 20; I took on five). And yet, I am putting in 20 hours a week.

And it’s not even the pay that’s bothering me right now. It’s the fact that since she’s immersed in this 24/7 … and the rest of us put in different shifts to meet their needs as well as have REAL jobs on the side … she is yelling at us for not getting shit done. Which, we ARE. A surprising amount given that it’s mostly volunteer work and the fact that we all pull extra hours to coincide our schedules with each others’.

I don’t want to lose this gig. It’s not that it’s wonderful but it’s something that can be something special, someday. But I talked to my whole team today (hey, who knew I had a team — don’t I get more for leadership?), and she’s making everyone want to cut their wrists with a machete.

Once again I am thrust in the role of giving people comic relief and understanding where there may be little or none. Pity. Clearly this pattern needs to end.

I met some wonderful people while I was volunteering. Exchanged a few sets of business cards. I know a nice Cajun restaurant up in Jax that needs to broaden its South Florida audience. Now if my ass is gonna be on fire every damn day, it should be from eating spicy foods and not having some crazy person kicking it!

Prince Needed

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

Well, thanks to being up half the night, I missed most of the royal wedding. For somebody who is under-employed, I sure am awfully busy at the least-convenient times!

I cried when I read via US Weekly’s iPad app that the last time Elton John was in Westminster Abbey, he was watching the young princes following behind their mother’s coffin. And how joyous it is to see them at the altar, celebrating a new beginning. How glorious it is to see them come full-circle.

Damn it. *sniffle*

I keep getting texts from CNBC — economic growth down! Inflation up! ExxonMobil beats earnings estimates! Consumer sentiment is up right now but you know it’s going to be revised downward on Monday like it always is!

*yawn* Same old shit. Different day.

And I ask the universe, where is my prince who asks me to quit my stupid little job so I can plan my wedding full-time? Lord knows I’d pick a better dress than Kate did.

And how on earth did she get away with doing her own hair/makeup when she supposedly had six hairdressers on site? She was cute, but not princess-like. I wanted her to show us some bling and sparkle and pizzaz.

In any case, I hope I can get out of the house well in advance of my 7:30 to 11 shift at my favorite local event so I can actually enjoy it.

I know Kate’s — er, Catherine’s — life as a princess-and-now-duchess is anything but easy. And I rebel against pomp and circumstance and rules and expectation like the best of them. But if I’m going to do something that, in the end, really doesn’t matter, I’d like to have access to a palace and haute couture. Is that really so much to hope for, for me?

Going swimming!

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

I’m sure I’ve told you about one of those people in my life who’s a zit on top of a boil that sits atop a hemorrhoid. (And I’m sure you’re like, you’ve got a TON woman. Which one?)

Anyway, I was left alone for a couple of grand days. But I have about 40 emails (I kid you not) that are keeping me up right now. The coverage of the royal wedding starts in three hours — I’m horrified to say I will still be awake at 4 a.m. to see it! (And I have to be at my volunteer gig at 7:30 p.m. Whee!)

The thing is, the position itself isn’t a fit, long-term. It’s easy and I tend to not treat it as life-or-death. It’s the skill level that I bring to it that makes it a no-brainer for me. Which, it’s nice to have a few lay-ups to counterbalance the harder work.

This is vaguely reminiscent of my Graceland days, of how the stuff I was the only one prepared/skilled/savvy enough to do was what got criticized most by those who had no friggin’ clue.

Although, I don’t miss their vitriol-filled e-mails about what a horrible person I was and that was a fate only punishable by insults and death. This is WAY better in comparison, although I miss that lovely paycheck that came with the cutting words.

These days, the cutting words are baked inside over-the-top compliments about dumb shit. You did a GREAT job spelling things right! Super! Everybody applaud! Now if this project isn’t done by 8 a.m. tomorrow I want answers and you’d better have them. Don’t we work GREAT together?!?!

I start off each week with so much enthusiasm. Like, I can write my own TICKET here if I play nice. Yet by this point, I’m deflated. Like, OF COURSE I’m capable. But one of these times you’re going to make me so flippin’ mad that I’m going to change my phone number, my e-mail and my Skype. And my identity, for good measure.

So, I’m hiring an intern. 🙂 Any takers for free work? lol. I get to do what I love, which is lead, and I can blame somebody else for everything. It’s perfect!

Sunset in Sunrise

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

Despite getting a friendly (personal!) e-mail reminder from my ex-pastor, I didn’t go to chuch today. I need to. I want to. I just … don’t.

But I did do a good deed today. Two, if I really think about it, but I’m not one to serve and tell. The way I see it, you can either go listen to the message or go out and live it.

The big news ’round these parts is that I went to see Charlie Sheen perform last night. It was … interesting. He was smart enough to hire Jeff Ross as moderator/roast-master/comic relief. I video’d Ross’ roast of Charlie Sheen. That made the ticket price worthwhile right there.

Well, that and the fact that we had SWEET seats. We were upgraded because the section we WERE supposed to be in was closed due to not-so-great ticket sales.

Charlie really should have rented out one of the Improvs down here and made it more exclusive, instead of us only taking up a little less than half of the arena. But, whatevs.

I may have a full report back on the show. Or I may not. I still don’t know what the hell I just saw. Domestic violence issues aside (as if they could ever be pushed aside, but bear with me for a sec), he seems like he’s got the weight of the world on his shoulders — much of it from his own doing — and not one single effective coping skill.

But he hired great talent to amuse us, so maybe he really is #winning after all. Or, he will, someday.

Anyway, hope the bunny was good to y’all. Since we don’t have any relatives and we’re definitely low on friends, we adopted someone as family today. And it kind of reminded me how shitty my mom’s life really has been and, yet, what a good person she remains committed to being.

Speaking about the metaphorical “we” as in “we as a society and not just here in this house,” it’s sad how easy it is for us to be good to people who are NOT related to us. Well, the sad part is really how hideously we can all treat each other when we’re bound by blood or law or moral obligation.

Alas, it’s a day for the slate to come clean. Well, as clean as it can — Lord knows even the best glass cleaners leave some streaks. Easter is a reminder to (try to) dump the dead weight, to let go of the petty crap and to focus on doing whatever it was that God let us come here to do.

We can all do better. Personality-wise, effort-wise, skill-wise and relationship-wise. It’s hard to time those resolutions around the New Year, but at Easter when we’re reminded of what has been sacrificed for us, it seems to be the least that we can do is to find our own small ways to honor God and, therefore, ourselves.

Where are the Doritos?

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

Am procrastinating. I find it funny that I signed up for a 25-hour workweek and I spend more time on the ‘puter than I did when I had a “big, important job” back in my day. Lord.

It was an exhausting week, and it ain’t over yet. To quote Jim Belushi something he said to Elizabeth Perkins in “About Last Night,” “If you didn’t have a pussy, there’d be a bounty on your head.”

But luck did roll in my favor on that front this week. Let’s just say that bus tire tracks look very lovely on others.

My friend SilverBlue said something the other day that stuck with me:

“Did you ever notice that the people who Karma has caught up with think that THEY are the victims?”

That made my day. My week, even. 🙂

So, here we are at the end of Lent. My goal was to lose 10 pounds through diet and exercise. Unfortunately, I GAINED 10 pounds instead. WTF, yo?

(Dear Shawn Schmuck: let me just get out your “Fattie” comment now, and the “I love to watch you unravel” comment, and the “I have more STDs than a Qwest Laboratory.”)

Anyway.

The problem was, I had started smoking again during Lent. Like, half a pack a day at least. But I haven’t had one in several days, and I find I have some of my energy back. So I took some very long walks over the last couple of days, which I hadn’t done because I was becoming winded far too quickly with the nicotine in my lungs.

The one thing I inadvertently gave up for Lent was my Paxil. I don’t even miss it. It suppressed my dreams and, while I love me some dreamless sleep, I missed the acid-trip images that have since returned to me. Time will tell whether the psychic dreams will return as well, but I’m OK with what I have now.

Some dreams are better than none — whether we’re talking about the ones you have when you’re asleep or those that overtake you during waking hours.

I’m not fully whole again after the disaster hereby known as “the last two years.” But I’m healing. And that’s quite enough for me right now.

My balcony, now with foliage!

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

I talk to my old pastor on occasion. I’ve pretty much stopped going to church these days, so I get some grief about that. 😉 But I’m taking my liberties when it comes to taking her advice on taking time to “do me.”

It’s been NUTS at Chez Caterwauling these past few days. I’m loving it, of course. I can forget about all the external drama and really channel my creativity into a huge project we’re launching on Sunday. God, I feel alive again.

I’ve been working since 6:30 a.m., after stopping somewhere around 1 a.m. last night. But it’s fun. It really is. I just got my paycheck in the mail and had to stop myself from thanking my boss for the opportunity to be a part of this wonderful odyssey.

As it should be, friends. Mark my words.

I just jumped off a two-hour call (after an hour-long call before it), and both are with old, old friends.

My latest caller stopped me in mid-sentence over something — I literally had the million-dollar idea and presented it almost apologetically. WTF?

He said, “Wow, did that series of fuckheads in Florida do a number on you!”

Knowing me very well, he said he can tell I’ve lost my way. I went from busting his balls two years ago to meekly suggesting that perhaps we can maybe, I dunno, think about incorporating this idea.

I got the pep talk of a lifetime. That I have always had the talent and skills. That I’ve clearly multiplied them since we last worked together. But that my management style has changed so very dramatically.

Hmm.

He’s right. I foundered greatly at Graceland/Den of Iniquity. You can’t reason with crazy. So, I didn’t. I hid in my corner and managed the most-difficult person possible. But we made it work — I busted his chops right back, and I am literally the only person he respects in our entire industry. So, yay.

But then, my friend said I must have inherited a lot of dead weight at the next job. I said I did, to some degree. But I was so sick of watching those kids get beaten down that I made it my mission to build them up … with the intent of THEN figuring out who should stay or go.

For the most part, people did raise their game. They didn’t realize that they COULD, nor that this initiative wasn’t punishable by death after all. Who knew?

But he assessed me pretty right. He said he could tell I was raising m own game all along — I just didn’t really let on to anyone how much I did, how much I knew and, worst of all, how much more I was capable of.

I guess while I was giving my people a voice, I muffled my own.

But, that’s not a bad thing, right? My new boss and colleagues shower me with compliments and I ask them to stop. Because I don’t feel like I’m doing anything extraordinary. My job is to come up with million-dollar ideas — why the hell are you people throwing me a parade when I do?

And that last sentence points toward untold amounts of dysfunction.

I had a huge victory yesterday. A marketing campaign I’m working on got 1,000 click-throughs within the first couple hours of being live … and then an 86% conversion rate.

That is HUGE.

Considering that we had budgeted for 150 click-throughs and maybe 80 conversions, let me say it again, THAT IS HUGE.

I was thinking about the freelance job that I quit, how I produced well-researched, creative and ready-to-publish deliverables. And the stupid bitch of a marketing consultant who was hired AFTER I signed on as a copywriter said that I suck, pure and simple.

Meanwhile, I’m destroying all the crap OUR copywriter turns in and I’m turning into a fucking money-making machine.

Proving once and for all that if you people had just left me the fuck alone, I would have doubled the profitability of the last three businesses that I no longer work for.

The thing is, my fate rides on this. My contract is done in four weeks. God bless these people for paying my retainer up front. But if this thing flops, I don’t know how to pay rent in June.

Now, realistically, it’s all going to work out wonderfully and I’ll be able to breathe. One thing that is nice is that I’ll be paid on the merits of my own work, and not — as some people seemed to believe — because I was at their mercy.

Oh, I remember what made my friend mad. When I came up with my second million-dollar idea in one conversation, I joked that, whew, thank God I was able to prove I was paying attention. WOW did that set him off!

He said that I need to reframe the past two years of my life. That those companies driving me out was GREAT for my identity. That I spent half my day trying to figure out how NOT to get yelled at was a waste of all the abilities lying dormant.

Perhaps I will start sending out those thank-you cards after all!

Well, back to “work,” if you can call it that. (And I really don’t.) I have another million to make today — and I’ve got another rabbit waiting to jump out of my hat. …

The balcony. Now with plants!

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

Technology FAIL day. Also known as: Failure Pile in a Sadness Bowl.

*gnawing at restraints*

The thing about being self (or pseudo) employed is that there’s no end to it. You work in the morning. You work at night. You work during the day. And you do it all in hopes that it will pay off.

How, you have no idea. But you do it anyway.

I actually had fun today. But I’m exhausted. Doing those “talking promos” is a bitch. Wow. I just hope that my voice tests well. Hell, I just hope it holds up for the next five audio/video pieces in the marketing funnel.

Tonight I was supposed to join a wonderful friend at an exclusive club opening in town. But it was either a case of throwing myself together and sneaking out for a couple of hours, then staying up all night, or simply taking an hour to myself now and, well, staying up all night. 🙂

It’s fun. Not complaining at all. A “bad” day at home certainly beats a bad day at the office!

Ocean inlet

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

So, I have a question for the universe: What the FUCK qualifies people to be in the roles they are in?

I never said it was an EASY question. 🙂

I am had it up to my hoo-hah with know-nothing “know-it-alls.” It’s one thing when I’m collecting a nice paycheck; I can at least afford enough wine to wash down the bitterness. But shit, when you’re doing volunteer work, it makes you wonder how people get to (and STAY) at the top.

Yeah, I’m going after your job. Yes, YOU. If you’re so afraid of it, let’s have some fun with this. Rather, it’s time for ME to start having fun.

It’s funny. I was on the phone with an old colleague yesterday and I was delicately expressing my dislike for something he had done. He said, “Goddess, you would bust the balls of an elephant if it got in your way. Just spit it out, whatever you want to say.”

It made me laugh, how someone remembered my bluntness and inability to conceal what was on my mind/in my heart. My “yes, ma’am” attitude has been what is holding me back. I’ve needed the paycheck too much to jeopardize it with that crazy little thing called THE TRUTH, although we all see how THAT worked out.

For right this second, I’m just going to scream and type some non-passive-aggressive responses to some uber-passive-aggressive e-mails.

Damn it. Why does every female in this field have to be such a cunty, raging BITCH?!?!