thoughts

Part 2: Confessions – I am a child of the 90s, and yes, I hate my job

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Part 2: Confessions was supposed to be about facing my Writer’s Fear, but this rant is very much-needed so hold onto your hats people. If you missed Part 1: Confessions, Struggling with Writers Fear you can read it here.

working manIt’s no joke, the majority of middle class Americans are probably in the same boat – working day in and day out, struggling to make rent and hating the 8 to 5 job that pays the bills but keeps them locked to the grindstone. No freedom to do what you want, when you want and where you want.

It’s work all day for little pay. It’s time clocks, and meetings and little vacation days. It’s cramming in a few texts during 15 minute breaks. It’s knowing that the boss-man is always watching, waiting with that memo that doesn’t make sense.

It’s managers that get promoted when they don’t know a daaamn thing. It’s – not who you know, it’s who you blow.

It’s “The Office.”

It’s…politics.

Several weeks ago, I moved to a new town, packed my bags, said goodbye to the folks and grabbed an easy 8 to 5 job that is now slowly eating my brains out. (Note to self, remember to apply for new jobs a bit sooner next time.)

At any rate, its amazing how dysfunctional some companies are. Where people get treated like numbers and the company gets away with it. How ridiculous the rules of attendance are, of break times, of self-importance. When did it get to be like that?

When did I become of a peon in the great big world of the machine? I don’t remember signing up for that.

clip art handsI am a child of the 90’s. I was told to follow your heart, follow your dreams, go to school for what you what. Well…if this is where a Liberal Arts degree in English Literature gets you, I feel gypped.

Today I got told by a girl barley in her twenties that I didn’t know anything. And that jolted me to a stop. I’m sorry? You don’t know anything about me, much less what I know and don’t know. At any rate, it pissed me off.
I’m a twenty-five year old college graduate, who works hard for nothing, and The Writer in me is ready to stand up and pay attention. I don’t deserve to be anyone’s bitch, much less the company that I work for.

I’ve decided it’s time to be honest, and its time to be honest with myself. I want to write for a living. I want to find the freedom in my job, and in myself to work hard and do what I love to do day in and day out. With no fear.

Maybe the ridiculous of this company is pushing me in the right direction – I am soo very close to just quitting my job and starting to write for a living.

If I were honest with my self, I would admit that I am wasting my time being responsible for once. Sometimes you have to be a little reckless to follow your dreams. I mean, who ever said that getting what you want was easy?

I have to remember that it’s not my job that defines me, it’s who I am and what I chose to do with my time here on earth that makes me who I am.

And it is my time to be honest with myself.

tampaI thought that I would make April a month of Confession Posts. Mostly Writing related, but this rant caught up with me tonight and needed to be let out. I know that there a lot of college graduates out there and people my age who feel the same. And we need to be heard and to support each other.

Look forward to Part 3 Confessions: How to Beat Writer’s Fear in a few weeks!

Any thoughts? Ideas? Rants of your own that need to be heard? Comment below! Writing is freedom! Let’s take advantage of it!

Laundry, a menial chore – a nice journaling opportunity!

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Moved to a new place in the last few months, and the building we are living in doesn’t have laundry on site, so every week or so I must make that dreaded trip to the laundromat. I hate doing laundry, and I hate laundromats, but the last time I brought my journal along and it gave me this somewhat amusing (if a bit depressing) journal entry:

ZZZZZ

3/5/14

I hate the sound of a laundromat. The way everyone’s laundry bumps up and down and goes every which-way, it makes me feel like there’s a hovercraft nearby, the rinsing and the swooshing, the quick, jagged vibrating of a laundry load full of jeans. The heavy slosh of an empty washer only half-full, only half used.

The dryer doors that fly open in mid-spin on a whim, flinging out their contents…be free undies…be free towels…be free…

Then there is the final rinse, the final spin, the heavy drone of a washer that bids you to keep waiting, groans and shudders, waiting….waiting…wait. One final spin, a heavy moan and then it shudders. It’s done.

How disturbing that washing clothes sounds like sex on paper, but it’s not like that at all.

Doing laundry is not sexy. It is the un-sexed, the final hangnail, the equivalent of having a migraine with a piercing light shining down on you.

It is like finding a stain on your favorite t-shirt, drumming your steering wheel in long lines of traffic, a fly buzzing in your ear, diarrhea, a sink full of dirty dishes, an open wound, the stink and the squelch of feet stuck in cold mud.

It is that raw, open feeling of words not said, of empty spaces, of regrets that come flying back in crowds of laughing, boisterous people. It’s like realizing you’ve forgotten something very important, and that dread of forgotten assignments…a pop-quiz, a failed class, the feeling of social paranoia. It is that trapped, dizzying realization that no one is coming to rescue you – life really comes with disappointments, heart ache and hurts.

And no one is going to rescue you from the overwhelming joyless feeling of living sometimes. Sometimes, all you can do is feel lost in the hullabaloo of it. Sometimes all you can do is look around hopelessly at the blank, wide-eyed, too-beautiful people and hope that they won’t notice that you might smell like prey to their eyes, that you might be that one person that might make this second of their lives a little more entertaining.

But ah, I digress – laundry. That menial chore that reminds you that there are other hopeless people in the world around you. You may think that you smell like roses most of the time, but in the end of it…eventually, all your clothes smell like shit. And that’s enough to bring dread to anyone.

Yeah, I really hate laundry. One day, when I’m rich and famous, I’ll hire someone to do it for me. But for now, it keeps me with the realization, and reminds me that no one is perfect – myself included.

Making good food, a boost to healthy writing

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What’s for breakfast today? Or rather Brunch…(I never was a big breakfast eater.)

0119131139French toast with syrup, sprinkled with powdered sugar and orange slices. Yum!

Since I started this new job, I’ve been appreciating my weekends more and more, and lately it has become a Saturday morning ritual – where I’ve liked to make something special, something that I don’t normally get the time to make during the week.

My online creativity class emphasizes how important it is for a writer to have other hobbies and I agree! It’s refreshing, because it allows you to take a break from the pressure of writing, and all the anxieties that sometimes comes with it. (Writer’s block, time management, writer’s fear, etc.) Here’s how to start: find something that you find relaxing and fun and just do it!

Although I’m not the cook in the family, I like being creative and making food that looks and tastes good, well, what can be wrong with that? 🙂 This is my NEW hobby. What’s yours?

Happy Saturday everyone!

Can you guess what color I am?

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Dusk at Binghamton University’s wildlife reserve.

It’s early morning, and I really should be sleeping, but thought I would post my latest assignment from my writing class. It really is forcing me to stretch back into that creative mold and realize just because I’ve been to a few college classes, doesn’t mean that I am the expert that I think I am – sometimes I forget that we writers can get cocky sometimes. 😉

Anywho…the assignment was to describe a color and do this in the first person. (Pretend we are essentially the color.) The bit I wrote was a broad scope of how one color can be many, but I like the phrases I got here:

I am that periwinkle color of a forgotten sweater. I am royal, I am sweet, call me what you want; pop in your mouth grapes, a plum, hanging loose from the vine. I am everything that you want to go right in your life. Find me on the highway, stripped from its owner; a scarf blowing in the breeze. A dark, bleeding sunset, a midnight sky so inky. I am velvet, I am happy beams of ambrosia, lavender, freesia. The sparkle in a raindrop, no larger than a pin-prick. Find me soaring, the color of wind, grey and regal. Find me goofy. A bulky mauve dinosaur that everyone hates. Flowers in a field of straw, choking out the other plant life. Birthed by two colors, given life from two opposites, warm, cold, light and dark.

What am I?

The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey – An unexpected Pleasure!

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Went and saw the The Hobbit last night and thought I’d post a quick review! There are no spoilers here, except about how fantastic I think this film is, so feel free to read on and get a peek at the music in this gorgeous movie!

When I heard that Peter Jackson was going to make The Hobbit in a 3-part film, I had my doubts. It wasn’t until I re-read the book, until I realized there is so much that happens behind the scenes that J. R. R. Tolkien never expands upon. How creative of Peter Jackson and company to bring a world to life that no one ever has ever seen before!

I was most excited when I read that some of the same people from the Lord of the Rings were going to be involved with the project: Howard Shore, the composer; screenwriter and co-producer, Philippa Boyens, and screenwriter and producer, Fran Walsh, who both had a hand in some great writing in the Fellowship of the Ring. I knew that as long as these fantastic people, (including Peter Jackson, of course!) were involved with the project, they couldn’t go wrong and boy, did they deliver!

The casting was excellent, the characterization of all 13 dwarfs was superb and so creative, they all have their own look and personality, it was done quite fantastically; the scenery was larger than life and the music; oh, the music!

There’s really nothing else I can say except to let you listen. I am such a sap sometimes, and there were a few moments in this film where my eyes teared up just because the music was so beautiful and awe-inspiring. I absolutely loved it!

What do you guys think?

A bit of flash fiction – At the Ball Park

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I have about 5 minutes before I have to shower, dress and get around for work tonight, but just wanted to share something real quick with you guys.

I signed up for an online class called, “Creativity Training for Writers” and although the class is clearly geared for writers who are more or less getting into the craft of writing, it has really helped me get back on track and is slowly curing my writer’s block – which is what I hoped it would!

The creative mind is still alive and kicking, and what a relief it is to get my writer’s voice back! Our first assignment we were given prompts and a limit of 5 minutes, in which we were to create a story finishing a sentence with a twist at the end. It is the closest I have ever come to writing some decent flash fiction and I was rather proud of it:

At the Ball Park

They called it a near miss, but I called it a coincidence. Sandy called it fate and I kissed her nose whenever she said this and she would smile at me with that wide, red-lipped smile; the kind that she gave me even after I had broken her hip and dislocated her right shoulder.

I’d tried to swerve to the right, but I just couldn’t move fast enough. There were so many people in the way and the lane was crowded. I’d hollered, “Get out of the way!” And before I knew it, my brown, leather glove was in the face of the most gorgeous woman I’d ever seen with red-brown hair. How was I to know that I would accidentally push her down the ball park stairs?

I’d visited her at the hospital after I muttered my sorrys to her on the gurney as the EMTs rolled her away, but that still wasn’t quite good enough. I gave her the ball I caught though, which was signed by every memory of the team. And when I was leaning over her hospital bed, the ball out-stretched in my hand, she gave me that red-lipped smile and asked me to marry her. Turns out she was a Yankees fan, too.

***Thoughts below if you got ’em! 🙂

Safe and Sound and Reading

/ Ajmorse / 2 Comments

Spending one of my days off as a couch potato since I don’t feel that brilliant, but FINALLY catching up on a bit of my wordpress reading today. I’ve missed a lot of great posts from some really great people and for that I am furiously reading and liking as many things as I can. 🙂

There are a lot of talented people out there!

On that note, whenever someone has a setting on their blog that has a person sign in before they can comment or like a post, it seems that either my browser, or my internet connection is not letting me like their posts. I sign in, and nothing happens! At first I thought it was Internet Explorer, but I have been using Firefox for a few months now, hmm…any thoughts?

So, there are many, many posts out there that I do like, it just won’t let me! Hmph. Here’s a song to make up for it! I’ve had this song in my head for a few days now. It inspires me to tell a story that is so beautiful and haunting at the same time…

Once Upon a time Review 11/25/12 – I Will Always Find You

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Been caught up with a new job (more on that later) and haven’t had time to get much TV watching in – I know, even my favorite TV show! I might be a little bias, because really it is the only TV show I watch at this time, but anyway…wow lots to be said about “Into the Deep!”

Spoilers ahead!

Photo credit: ABC.

Hook pretends to betray Cora and let the captured princess Aurora go, while meanwhile, Snow and company must figure out a way to defeat Regina’s mother, to prevent her from following them to Storybrooke, (something that both Mr. Gold and Regina fear.) Snow gets put into a deep sleep to go meet Henry in this Never World; although it isn’t Henry that meets her there, but Charming.

It just goes to show what these two will do for love. “I had to see you,” he tells her and “I will always find you.” Awww! (The sap in me teared up quite a bit during their scene in the fiery room. No matter where or when or under what circumstances, these two have a love that lasts! This is the true love that all us fairytale lovers dream about! He tells her that to defeat Cora, they must find the magic ink that was used to stun Rumpelstiltskin, which he conveniently left a bottle of in his jail cell.

While Charming is murmuring “I will always find you,” to a distraught Snow, we learn later on that Hook has taken Aurora’s heart to be used and manipulated by Cora. Just when we are just starting to like the handsome captain…hmm, well, we knew he wasn’t perfect.

Some observations in this episode:

  • Belle and Rumple in the diner finally getting that hamburger. He tells her “Condiments are this world’s most powerful magic.” (Hehehe).
  • We love to see Regina, Gold and Charming working together. (I don’t know if I would have trusted the evil duo to put me under a sleeping curse! Such a brave Charming!)
  • Regina’s balance between good and evil. Here’s an evil character where we actually like to see trying to better herself. She is by far the best character ever written for television. (In my opinion at least!)
  • The Never World is as creepy as can be…especially the room that charming is first in…
  • The “bed time story” that Gold tells a sleepy Henry. In the deepest bottomless ocean, there is a rare squid, only found except by a mermaid –  *gasp* could it be our very own little mermaid?
  • No flash back scenes in this episode, and I have to say that is the first since the season began…it would have been a nice to include some Aurora flashbacks, but perhaps there just wasn’t time. Hmm.

Will post my review on the latest episode in a few days or so! I see that it is entitled “Queen of Hearts.” So excited! Were my earlier predictions correct? Hmm…we shall see!

What did you think of this episode? Thoughts below!

The House On Mango Street

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Every writer has a moment where it all began. That point in their lives, where they were 10, or 14, or 42, where they realized that words can be something more than dots and slashes and letters on a page…that words can take you places.

For me it was a book called, The House on Mango Street, By Sandra Cisneros, which I read in eighth grade. The middle school that I attended had a new eighth grade teacher that year; a man from New York City named Mr. Van Dright. He was a bit unorthodox for an upstate New York school strict on curriculum and following the rules. He had long dark hair and grizzle on his face, who wore a leather jacket and drove a motorcycle when he wasn’t in school, who reminded us often how thankful we were to attend a school that was safe and clean with no metal detectors.

And although this unique teacher from the city was forced to resign before the following year, what I remember most about him was that he was an artist. He had that look in his eye of a person who had stories to tell. He showed me, although he probably doesn’t know it, (a very insecure and shy fourteen year old at the time,) that books and words could be something more, you just had to dream them.

“In English my name means hope. In Spanish it means too many letters. It means sadness, it means waiting. It is like the number nine. A muddy color. It is Mexican records my father plays on Sunday mornings when he is shaving, songs like sobbing.” (Cisneros,10)

This is from a passage in the book entitled, “My Name.” I remember him reading it to the class that day. What does that mean, he asked us. A name like the number nine?

Perhaps it was because I was obsessed with names. Wondering what it would be like if I had a different name – to separate myself from the ten other girls named Amanda in my school. (I really did graduate with about 5 of them.) Perhaps it’s because later on in the passage, the narrator goes on to describe her name, “as if the syllables were made out of tin and hurt the roof of your mouth.” (Cisneros, 11)

Up until that point in my life, I’d never given much thought into the meaning of words, how with a simple sentence you can describe your name as muddy and we know how you felt about whatever it is you were talking about.

My own writing as of lately, has become its own kind of muddy and I thought I’d take this time to go back and remember where it all began. How words can have inspiration just by how they sound in your mouth mixed around with a word or phrase that can have nuances of meaning. How something simple can change the way you think and view the world. Muddy. Muddy. Muddy.

Nothing was as clear to me as those words on those pages. I wanted to write muddy too.

Hurricane Sandy – Check out these cool pics!

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Well, still getting battered by the hurricane up here in upstate, NY and probably will until tomorrow evening, (the wind outside right now is terrible!) Can feel the cool air blasting through the cracks in the windows and downstairs in the basement the water is creeping slowly across the floor as it seeps into the house…

The power went out for about four or five hours and we broke out the candles. Ate dinner to candlelight, wondered at the silence when all the humming of machinery is turned off and I cradled my phone to my chest and then sorrowfully shut the power off to save the battery for tomorrow.

I did grab my camera, which was fully charged (and clung to that – yaay an electronic device!) and was able to take some pictures of the storm.

Was playing around with the light settings and got this…(I am not a photographer by any means but like taking good pics as well as anyone), but imagine my surprise when I got this!

Anyway, well the power came back on an hour ago, we turned the TV on to check out the news and I thought I’d share these pics. I’m a tad nervous because I have to be out and about tomorrow – so fingers crossed!

Prayers and thoughts go out to those that were seriously impacted by this storm!