Hi!
It's me, Lindsay. Yes, that's right. Lindsay. You may not have realized my name is not The Temp or That New Girl, but it's true. My parents did not, in fact, name me after someone who doesn't tend to hold down a job for very long, and thus flits from office to office chasing a meager paycheck.
So, yeah. Lindsay.
I've been here for a couple weeks, and am slated to stick around for at least the next six months, so I'm starting to wonder why no one is talking to me.
I get it, kinda. Friendliness is a lot of work. Believe me, I know. For the last two weeks I've had this permasmile on my face, because I'm not yet comfortable enough to be sour. But the truth is, I'm not really all that friendly. Usually people know that after they get to know me a bit, but we're not there yet. I can tell you that in friendliness' place, I'll offer happy hour plans and dirty jokes. Out of earshot of HR, of course.
Or, maybe you're on to this friendliness absence. I complain that no one really talks to me, but admittedly, I think the one person who does speak to me is pretty creepy. That's a pretty bitchy default opinion, I realize, so I guess I can't blame you if you're deterred by my bitchiness. But certainly you think he's creepy too, no? Should we discuss this?
Is it because I'm awkward? This is fair enough, too, I suppose. My precarious perch right next to the copier grants the opportunity to greet you all, which I try to do with the aforementioned permasmile. To the one person who did stop to chat that one time, I'm sorry it got weird. You said, "I bet it's pretty annoying that everyone probably stands here and talks to you while making copies." I too-loudly responded, "NO! No one talks to me! It's okay! HAHAHAhaha." I realize that made me sound unstable, but I hadn't spoken in hours and was caught off guard. I panicked and I'm sorry.
Maybe it's because you're afraid I'll take your lunchtime seat in the break room. I get that this is your one hour to yourself during the day, and you simply want to spend it jammed in to one of the long tables eating leftover pizza with your favorite co-workers. That message was loud and clear the day I accidentally entered the break room while looking for the restroom. Everyone's silent glare marked your individual lunch table territory like a dog peeing in the yard. Noted. It's cool, though. I eat lunch in my car everyday listening to NPR and reading my Twitter feed, and yes this is the grown-up equivalent to taking a cafeteria tray into the bathroom stall. Truth be told, though, I've come to like this routine so your seat is safe.
Honestly, I don't know why you're not talking to me, but I suppose the ball is in my court just as much as yours. I could go out of my way to speak first, but I'm just a bit uncomfortable. Unlike you, I haven't been coming to this place for the better part of the past decade, and don't know the deal. As soon as you open that door though, I'll totally blaze right through it. And then I'll wipe this smile right off my face.
Yours in TPS Reports,
Lindsay
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
Why Facebook Is Ridiculous
No. I don't mean that. I love Facebook. Albeit, I haven't thought about many of my "friends" since sixth grade (which was the last time I saw them). Yet, I am able to know their occupations, political viewpoints, and I would be able to recognize their children at the grocery store. As long as they were wearing those adorable Halloween costumes that I care so much about. And I really do think this is--if nothing else--so very amusing.
While there are plenty of randoms on my news feed, there are also a lot of real friends and family members who live far away. Even with frequent calls and emails, there are things I'd miss if it weren't for the ole 'book. The impromptu pictures of my niece and nephews that are so easy for their parents to snap, upload, and forget about keep me refreshing incessantly.
As I frequent refresh-er, I don't miss much. Which is why I know first-hand that Facebook is only as good as its most ridiculous users. And as we all know, there is no shortage of ridiculous on this site.
Allow me to enter as evidence, an actual picture that showed up in my news feed today:
What in the everloving hell is this?! To whom, please tell me, is this appealing?
I want to know who read this and thought (in the voice of a redneck, no doubt), "Bow-shit! Not me! I absolutely support pet abuse! I cannot fully get behind animal abuse as a whole, because I am not all that offended by ferrets. But for me personally, I allow this mangy-ass, thankless, money-sucking asshole of a Golden Retriever to live in my home. Or the abandoned lot behind my home. And damnit, it's my Uhmer'can right to kick his ass er'y now and again."
No one. No one has thought that ever. This is not necessary at all.
So I have to ask. Are people this stupid? Or, are they abusing their pets? Because the only reason I can think of where I would find it acceptable to share this with 1,056 friends, loved ones, and people who look familiar but I can't really place, is if I had just punched my dog in the face and was trying to cover my tracks.
I'm on to you, pet abusers. And for the record, I hope I'm wrong here. And if I am, then join me, and stop posting these idiotic pictures. And also? Your daughter is six. She should not own a "sexy cop" costume. Get that under control before October.
While there are plenty of randoms on my news feed, there are also a lot of real friends and family members who live far away. Even with frequent calls and emails, there are things I'd miss if it weren't for the ole 'book. The impromptu pictures of my niece and nephews that are so easy for their parents to snap, upload, and forget about keep me refreshing incessantly.
As I frequent refresh-er, I don't miss much. Which is why I know first-hand that Facebook is only as good as its most ridiculous users. And as we all know, there is no shortage of ridiculous on this site.
Allow me to enter as evidence, an actual picture that showed up in my news feed today:
What in the everloving hell is this?! To whom, please tell me, is this appealing?
I want to know who read this and thought (in the voice of a redneck, no doubt), "Bow-shit! Not me! I absolutely support pet abuse! I cannot fully get behind animal abuse as a whole, because I am not all that offended by ferrets. But for me personally, I allow this mangy-ass, thankless, money-sucking asshole of a Golden Retriever to live in my home. Or the abandoned lot behind my home. And damnit, it's my Uhmer'can right to kick his ass er'y now and again."
No one. No one has thought that ever. This is not necessary at all.
So I have to ask. Are people this stupid? Or, are they abusing their pets? Because the only reason I can think of where I would find it acceptable to share this with 1,056 friends, loved ones, and people who look familiar but I can't really place, is if I had just punched my dog in the face and was trying to cover my tracks.
I'm on to you, pet abusers. And for the record, I hope I'm wrong here. And if I am, then join me, and stop posting these idiotic pictures. And also? Your daughter is six. She should not own a "sexy cop" costume. Get that under control before October.
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Conflicted
I like to consider myself the consummate Devil's Advocate. I pride myself in seeing and empathizing with (mostly) any side to (mostly) any situation. Which is why I'm saddened and horrified and kind of get it when it comes to this story.
I saw this story yesterday on The Huffington Post, and can't get it out of my head.
There's no doubt that bullying is an epidemic in this country. Kids have always been assholes (not all of them of course, but certainly you know one or two), and with the sheer quantity of information available these days, we all have increased access to how hard it is to be on the receiving end of the asshol-y kid in school.
We're now all aware that those who were bullied as children were not experiencing a one-off situation. Growing up prior to this information age just prevented us all from realizing the scope of this issue. Unfortunately, kindness is not a subject on the standardized tests. Perhaps if it was, we'd be able to prove that kids are failing.
So, back to this haunting, confusing story. To summarize, the subject of this story is a fourteen-year-old girl who was given free plastic surgery after being teased relentlessly at school for having "big ears". The surgery was funded by a non-profit devoted to paying for such a thing. This story states she was teased at school because her ears stuck out, but also received a nose job and some work on her chin--for good measure? I'm not sure the purpose of the latter two "fixes."
The teenager is looking forward to the new school year for (what is likely) the first time ever, and loves her new look. I love that for her. And I went to grade school (in the 90's) with kids who had had their ears pinned back. I remember hearing about this as a child—and not because they had been teased, but because it was just a thing their parents chose for them. So for that reason, I'm not too opposed to the ear pinning. I know it's a thing that kids sometimes get done.
And I love that a fourteen-year-old girl (because who can't feel for a teenager uncomfortable in her own skin) has seemingly found the confidence that is more often than not missing in adolescence. But. BUT, to throw in a nose job and chin reconstruction at fourteen? Because someone made her feel bad about her looks? What is the lesson there? That if people are mean to you, you should totally give in to whatever they don't like about you. And most importantly, if you're prettier than them, you win. The prettiest always wins. Like, duh.
And those bullies? They didn't learn anything here. They will still be mean. If they're no longer mean to the subject of this story, I hope she doesn't forget all the pain they caused her, and befriend them. And I sure hope this non-profit is around for the next victim of these same bullies. Because that kindness that was in short supply? No plastic surgeon can implant that.
Apparently, this girl is required to attend counseling to go along with the surgery, and that seems like a good idea, but I still worry about the long-term effects. Any outsider looking in sees a different side of the story, but I can see her parents' point-of-view. Their daughter is in pain, and hates school, and hates her looks, and maybe hates herself, and here is someone that can help (ssemingly). For free. That would be a hard thing at which to thumb your nose--regardless of its shape and size.
Nothing is easy about being a fourteen-year-old girl. There are a lot of sides to this story. I'm conflicted about it all, but of course, I don't know these people, and no one asked me for my opinion. So I'll agonize from a distance, hope for the best for all involved, and be kinder. Because it's never to late to study up on that.
I saw this story yesterday on The Huffington Post, and can't get it out of my head.
There's no doubt that bullying is an epidemic in this country. Kids have always been assholes (not all of them of course, but certainly you know one or two), and with the sheer quantity of information available these days, we all have increased access to how hard it is to be on the receiving end of the asshol-y kid in school.
We're now all aware that those who were bullied as children were not experiencing a one-off situation. Growing up prior to this information age just prevented us all from realizing the scope of this issue. Unfortunately, kindness is not a subject on the standardized tests. Perhaps if it was, we'd be able to prove that kids are failing.
So, back to this haunting, confusing story. To summarize, the subject of this story is a fourteen-year-old girl who was given free plastic surgery after being teased relentlessly at school for having "big ears". The surgery was funded by a non-profit devoted to paying for such a thing. This story states she was teased at school because her ears stuck out, but also received a nose job and some work on her chin--for good measure? I'm not sure the purpose of the latter two "fixes."
The teenager is looking forward to the new school year for (what is likely) the first time ever, and loves her new look. I love that for her. And I went to grade school (in the 90's) with kids who had had their ears pinned back. I remember hearing about this as a child—and not because they had been teased, but because it was just a thing their parents chose for them. So for that reason, I'm not too opposed to the ear pinning. I know it's a thing that kids sometimes get done.
And I love that a fourteen-year-old girl (because who can't feel for a teenager uncomfortable in her own skin) has seemingly found the confidence that is more often than not missing in adolescence. But. BUT, to throw in a nose job and chin reconstruction at fourteen? Because someone made her feel bad about her looks? What is the lesson there? That if people are mean to you, you should totally give in to whatever they don't like about you. And most importantly, if you're prettier than them, you win. The prettiest always wins. Like, duh.
And those bullies? They didn't learn anything here. They will still be mean. If they're no longer mean to the subject of this story, I hope she doesn't forget all the pain they caused her, and befriend them. And I sure hope this non-profit is around for the next victim of these same bullies. Because that kindness that was in short supply? No plastic surgeon can implant that.
Apparently, this girl is required to attend counseling to go along with the surgery, and that seems like a good idea, but I still worry about the long-term effects. Any outsider looking in sees a different side of the story, but I can see her parents' point-of-view. Their daughter is in pain, and hates school, and hates her looks, and maybe hates herself, and here is someone that can help (ssemingly). For free. That would be a hard thing at which to thumb your nose--regardless of its shape and size.
Nothing is easy about being a fourteen-year-old girl. There are a lot of sides to this story. I'm conflicted about it all, but of course, I don't know these people, and no one asked me for my opinion. So I'll agonize from a distance, hope for the best for all involved, and be kinder. Because it's never to late to study up on that.
Monday, July 9, 2012
Pick Me!
In most cases, it's the anticipation that is the most fun. Recently, I had three interviews for a job that I convinced myself would be great. In the anticipation stage, I pictured myself driving to this business every day. I pictured myself eating lunch with the potential co-workers. I knew what pictures would hang in my cubicle.
This is kind of the specialty around here. As frequent movers, my husband and I would hear whispers of an opportunity in his field, and we'd get whimsical about making that new place our home. We'd turn to Craigslist to search for rentals, and fall into internet holes exploring neighborhoods and quirks of the various towns.
Is this weird? It's actually a bit of a hobby in our home. If it's weird, I am kidding. We totally don't do that.
Ahem.
So, this company is huge and the hiring timeline is foggy. I was holding out for this until I was offered a (not exciting, albeit paying) position at a different company. The anticipation had to end.
I e-mailed the recruiter I had been working with and asked the status, letting her know another opportunity had come up. She told me to go for it. Turns out, another candidate would drive to the business every day, would eat lunch with the co-workers, and would hang pictures of my husband and dog in her cubicle.
That information hurt. It's a blow to the ego to be told someone else was chosen over me. This type-A would prefer to be the first chosen for kickball, the debate team, bee-keeping class. Whatever. I don't care. Just pick me. And like me.
But rising up under my ego's black eye is a feeling I wasn't quite expecting. It's relief.
Truth be told, that job wasn't the dream job I created in the anticipation phase. It would have been boring, and I would have settled into it for longer than I should have. Nevertheless, the rejection stings, and the perception shift from the perfection I created in my mind, to the reality of taking the less exciting job is stark.
But that aside, I'm excited. I accepted this job with no preconceptions that it should be a dream job. It'll allow me to collect a paycheck, without forcing myself to make this a career. I can investigate what I love under the guise of hobbies or volunteer work. If everything turned out the way I had anticipated just last week, the horizon wouldn't be so exciting.
That's the thing about anticipation. There's no accounting for reality.
This is kind of the specialty around here. As frequent movers, my husband and I would hear whispers of an opportunity in his field, and we'd get whimsical about making that new place our home. We'd turn to Craigslist to search for rentals, and fall into internet holes exploring neighborhoods and quirks of the various towns.
Is this weird? It's actually a bit of a hobby in our home. If it's weird, I am kidding. We totally don't do that.
Ahem.
So, this company is huge and the hiring timeline is foggy. I was holding out for this until I was offered a (not exciting, albeit paying) position at a different company. The anticipation had to end.
I e-mailed the recruiter I had been working with and asked the status, letting her know another opportunity had come up. She told me to go for it. Turns out, another candidate would drive to the business every day, would eat lunch with the co-workers, and would hang pictures of my husband and dog in her cubicle.
That information hurt. It's a blow to the ego to be told someone else was chosen over me. This type-A would prefer to be the first chosen for kickball, the debate team, bee-keeping class. Whatever. I don't care. Just pick me. And like me.
But rising up under my ego's black eye is a feeling I wasn't quite expecting. It's relief.
Truth be told, that job wasn't the dream job I created in the anticipation phase. It would have been boring, and I would have settled into it for longer than I should have. Nevertheless, the rejection stings, and the perception shift from the perfection I created in my mind, to the reality of taking the less exciting job is stark.
But that aside, I'm excited. I accepted this job with no preconceptions that it should be a dream job. It'll allow me to collect a paycheck, without forcing myself to make this a career. I can investigate what I love under the guise of hobbies or volunteer work. If everything turned out the way I had anticipated just last week, the horizon wouldn't be so exciting.
That's the thing about anticipation. There's no accounting for reality.
Thursday, July 5, 2012
When Things Look Up, Don't Forget to Look Down
I like to keep things positive. If I wasn't such a lush, I would consider myself a "glass half full" kind of person, but truth be told, the glass is usually empty. And not in an angsty teen kind of way. Because let's celebrate! And drink to that! And to anything, really. I'm probably drunk right now.
But I digress. Currently, I'm unemployed and bored. Finding motivation is hard, and the "Apply Here" tab is a black hole that drains my time and sucks out my soul. But I am trying to enjoy my "time off." I'm getting to know my new city and becoming more intimately acquainted with Kardashian re-runs than I ever thought possible. [Spoiler alert: They fight. They are insane. They make up in the end. Then Kanye West sacrifices them all on an alter he has erected in honor of himself.]
So this little break from the real world is a good thing! Case in point: I spend a lot of time with my dog. No! It's not pathetic! I am OBSESSED with this guy. We are lucky enough to live next to an "Agricutural Center" which features this great little trail where we walk the dog.
I was feeling especially positive on our morning walk, smiling and annoyingly greeting all my fellow hikers with an overdramatic welcome. My Jack Johnson Pandora station was playing all my favorite songs. Our oppressively hot June was taking a break for a more seasonably comfortable temperature.
"What a great day," I actually said out loud to Handsome, said dog, because I am that irritating and starved for conversation buddies. "I'd like to remember this day through the foggy, light-altered filter of Instagram," I also may have said.
Example:
Then, the energy force in the Universe that counterbalances those who annoy the shit out of everyone else stepped in. "Enough is enough," I imagine the Force said. "I was going to let you slide until you thumbs-upped the 86th version of Banana Pancakes. You are an adult for chrissakes."
While I was trotting along in happy oblivion, snapping cell phone pictures of trees and rocks that I will find completely useless in a more cynical moment, I stepped in a giant pile of horse crap.
Proof:
Noted. The lesson? Ehh. Does there always have to be a lesson? I don't know, but if so, perhaps it's that sometimes the sun shines on your face while a horse shits on your shoes. It's all about the balance.
But I digress. Currently, I'm unemployed and bored. Finding motivation is hard, and the "Apply Here" tab is a black hole that drains my time and sucks out my soul. But I am trying to enjoy my "time off." I'm getting to know my new city and becoming more intimately acquainted with Kardashian re-runs than I ever thought possible. [Spoiler alert: They fight. They are insane. They make up in the end. Then Kanye West sacrifices them all on an alter he has erected in honor of himself.]
So this little break from the real world is a good thing! Case in point: I spend a lot of time with my dog. No! It's not pathetic! I am OBSESSED with this guy. We are lucky enough to live next to an "Agricutural Center" which features this great little trail where we walk the dog.
I was feeling especially positive on our morning walk, smiling and annoyingly greeting all my fellow hikers with an overdramatic welcome. My Jack Johnson Pandora station was playing all my favorite songs. Our oppressively hot June was taking a break for a more seasonably comfortable temperature.
"What a great day," I actually said out loud to Handsome, said dog, because I am that irritating and starved for conversation buddies. "I'd like to remember this day through the foggy, light-altered filter of Instagram," I also may have said.
Example:
Then, the energy force in the Universe that counterbalances those who annoy the shit out of everyone else stepped in. "Enough is enough," I imagine the Force said. "I was going to let you slide until you thumbs-upped the 86th version of Banana Pancakes. You are an adult for chrissakes."
While I was trotting along in happy oblivion, snapping cell phone pictures of trees and rocks that I will find completely useless in a more cynical moment, I stepped in a giant pile of horse crap.
Proof:
Noted. The lesson? Ehh. Does there always have to be a lesson? I don't know, but if so, perhaps it's that sometimes the sun shines on your face while a horse shits on your shoes. It's all about the balance.
Monday, June 25, 2012
Start here.
So this where it starts, I suppose. I figured I'd get in at the beginning of this new-fangled blogging thing, just in case it takes off. Oh. What's that you say? Blogging has been around for some time now? Huh. Just as well.
My husband and I have recently moved to Nashville, TN from Tulsa, OK. I am jealous of all the creativity going around this town, and this is my way of getting in on it. Also, I haven't yet found a job in our new town , and I succeeded in polishing off an entire jar of Trader Joe's Cookie Butter last week. This week, I did not allow myself to buy a new jar of this amazing creation and forced myself to get a hobby. So here we are. We'll see where this adventure goes, but even if I wander away from this computer, see something shiny, and totally forget to ever return (all plausible), you've already won. Check out the Cookie Butter, for sure. Maybe stop by this blog again. I might, too.
My husband and I have recently moved to Nashville, TN from Tulsa, OK. I am jealous of all the creativity going around this town, and this is my way of getting in on it. Also, I haven't yet found a job in our new town , and I succeeded in polishing off an entire jar of Trader Joe's Cookie Butter last week. This week, I did not allow myself to buy a new jar of this amazing creation and forced myself to get a hobby. So here we are. We'll see where this adventure goes, but even if I wander away from this computer, see something shiny, and totally forget to ever return (all plausible), you've already won. Check out the Cookie Butter, for sure. Maybe stop by this blog again. I might, too.
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