...Just kidding. I feel awesome.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Tryin' to be a Grown Ass Man Despite HATERS
Okay, so I'm a grown ass man. I have a job that pays well enough; it includes health benefits, work parties, holidays off and even a no longer proverbial water cooler. I dress nicely to go in (probably too nicely since I've yet to shake off the nuance of new job smell) and it's all in all a professional atmosphere, except for one thing. The toilet seat in the ladies' bathroom is a lobster claw. Clearly a Maine lobster claw by it's bright red hue. When I garner enough not creepy cred, I'll sneak off to the bathroom with a camera so you can see why this toilet seat is foiling my plans to be a grown ass man.
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Santa Feans Care About a Lot of Things, Just Not People
Well, that's not true. They care about far-away peoples whose cultures they've appropriated and they care about indigenous peoples whose culture they've comodified and made marketable. They care about those people in a way that rings more of patronizing and theft than of appreciation and respect. That said, I fell off my bike.
I was riding to the right of cars, where good bike riders are supposed to ride. I was riding on a nice piece of asphalt but due to the endless construction here, that asphalt did not continue after I rode over the train tracks. Instead it was replaced by a nice lane of thick sand and gravel. Needless to say, I left my bike in that sand as physics took my poor body onward.
What is the worst part about this is that I was riding past a long line of cars stopped at a major intersection —one that has a notably slow-timed light— and not one person so much as asked if I was alright.
Upon later inspection, scrapes similar to the one in the picture of my elbow (this picture was taken today, so one must assume it was grosser three days ago) pepper my right side. Somehow I have bruises all the way down my left. Mostly I've felt generally incapacitated ever since.
Perhaps these people were busy freeing Tibet or making sure that they got top dollar for the resale of Native pottery at Indian Market. Whatever magnanimous thing they were doing, a battered, bloody and bruised girl, could play no part in their fanfare.
As I, dirty and broken, rode the rest of the way home, an old man in a convertible proceeded to hit on me, continually slowing down or speeding up to stay by his beloved's side in traffic.
Santa Fe: 1, Empathy: 0
I was riding to the right of cars, where good bike riders are supposed to ride. I was riding on a nice piece of asphalt but due to the endless construction here, that asphalt did not continue after I rode over the train tracks. Instead it was replaced by a nice lane of thick sand and gravel. Needless to say, I left my bike in that sand as physics took my poor body onward.
What is the worst part about this is that I was riding past a long line of cars stopped at a major intersection —one that has a notably slow-timed light— and not one person so much as asked if I was alright.
Upon later inspection, scrapes similar to the one in the picture of my elbow (this picture was taken today, so one must assume it was grosser three days ago) pepper my right side. Somehow I have bruises all the way down my left. Mostly I've felt generally incapacitated ever since.
Perhaps these people were busy freeing Tibet or making sure that they got top dollar for the resale of Native pottery at Indian Market. Whatever magnanimous thing they were doing, a battered, bloody and bruised girl, could play no part in their fanfare.
As I, dirty and broken, rode the rest of the way home, an old man in a convertible proceeded to hit on me, continually slowing down or speeding up to stay by his beloved's side in traffic.
Santa Fe: 1, Empathy: 0
Monday, August 11, 2008
Just as Effective as Lobbying
He's just so likeable that McCain has no choice but to rep him. He also has bumper stickers and is gonna let me know about his VP pick by text message. On Sunday Hillary Clinton will even be in town (Espanola) to say why she too loves Obama.
Saturday, August 9, 2008
I Met Someone Famous While Trying to Get My Drink on for Free
Today was the luckiest day.
Needless to say I began my day scouring the "free" section on Craigslist, because, well, it's free. Someone was offering 24 Southwest airline drink coupons for the nominal fee of something interesting in return. I offered up what I could: shitty bike, decibel meter, old wet shoes, and even my beloved "Where's Yan?" t-shirt. By the end of the day I was to find out that the decibel meter, and, for some reason, the "Where's Yan?" t-shirt would seal the deal.
As if this weren't enough to having me glowing (and always drunk while in transit), it turns out that this cock-eyed scheme's initiator is a famous writer. And he —to my dismay not Cormack McCarthy— lives only two blocks away. He also (possibly on purpose) failed to realize that half of the coupons he gave me are expired but I will extort him for compensation on a later date. What's more important is that he writes for the same paper I will be copy editing.
That's right. I will be copy editing a paper. I got a job! A job that is even (mostly, and with a trusting leap of the imagination) in the same field in which I am interested and it has nothing, NOT ONE THING, to do with making sandwiches. Okay, so copy editing isn't exactly what I had in mind when I set out to become a famous writer, but it's a start. And my job is exciting and will be great and it will be nothing like what my friend Chris suggested would likely be a daily scenario: http://www.guardian.co.uk/media/2008/jul/23/mediamonkey.
This job also means that I got to put in my two days —poor man's version of two weeks— at the deli. I am still unsure what kept me from going out on break today and not returning. For now I'll call it severe moral rectitude.
I also found a dollar. For those of you who saw me pick it up, it is my damn dollar, so go to hell.
Needless to say I began my day scouring the "free" section on Craigslist, because, well, it's free. Someone was offering 24 Southwest airline drink coupons for the nominal fee of something interesting in return. I offered up what I could: shitty bike, decibel meter, old wet shoes, and even my beloved "Where's Yan?" t-shirt. By the end of the day I was to find out that the decibel meter, and, for some reason, the "Where's Yan?" t-shirt would seal the deal.
As if this weren't enough to having me glowing (and always drunk while in transit), it turns out that this cock-eyed scheme's initiator is a famous writer. And he —to my dismay not Cormack McCarthy— lives only two blocks away. He also (possibly on purpose) failed to realize that half of the coupons he gave me are expired but I will extort him for compensation on a later date. What's more important is that he writes for the same paper I will be copy editing.
That's right. I will be copy editing a paper. I got a job! A job that is even (mostly, and with a trusting leap of the imagination) in the same field in which I am interested and it has nothing, NOT ONE THING, to do with making sandwiches. Okay, so copy editing isn't exactly what I had in mind when I set out to become a famous writer, but it's a start. And my job is exciting and will be great and it will be nothing like what my friend Chris suggested would likely be a daily scenario: http://www.guardian.co.uk/media/2008/jul/23/mediamonkey.
This job also means that I got to put in my two days —poor man's version of two weeks— at the deli. I am still unsure what kept me from going out on break today and not returning. For now I'll call it severe moral rectitude.
I also found a dollar. For those of you who saw me pick it up, it is my damn dollar, so go to hell.
One of Many Highly Offensive Things About Santa Fe
There is a thing here where the more gentrified a neighborhood, the more things take on Spanish names. The Spanish names, however, are clearly ones that one would not create if she were native to that tongue. "House of Colors" is just as stupid 
a name for an apartment complex in Spanish as it is in English. It is a strange but prevalent thing here for white people to make things more Mexican. For the longest time I couldn't really understand what the other co-workers were calling my favorite co-worker. It sounded something like "Av-i-el" with varying accouterments and perhaps a trill depending on who said it. Upon asking "Av-i-el" how to say/spell his name, he informed me that in Mexico, his Spanish-speaking family called him "Abel," like Cain's buddy. The rest of the staff insisted on the alternate Mex-i-like pronunciations. He conformed and now is a better Mexican for it.
a name for an apartment complex in Spanish as it is in English. It is a strange but prevalent thing here for white people to make things more Mexican. For the longest time I couldn't really understand what the other co-workers were calling my favorite co-worker. It sounded something like "Av-i-el" with varying accouterments and perhaps a trill depending on who said it. Upon asking "Av-i-el" how to say/spell his name, he informed me that in Mexico, his Spanish-speaking family called him "Abel," like Cain's buddy. The rest of the staff insisted on the alternate Mex-i-like pronunciations. He conformed and now is a better Mexican for it.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Work Still Sucks
Today was my first day back to the deli after my impromptu vacation and it sucks just as bad as I remembered it. I had just gotten over my fake illness and my co-workers were as ready as ever to critique everything I did. I was as ready as ever to fake quit again but was rescued by the advice of an old friend who reminded me that people suck everywhere so this is as good (and as bad) as it gets.
I've taken to playing weird, manipulative mind-games and all-in-all coming off a little crazy. A clearly white co-worker of mine with a clearly Hindi name, who has been particularly nit-picky and an all-around displeasure to be around, informed me that she grew up in an American Sikh community. I quickly informed her that my sister is living in a real Sikh community —a family— in real live India. I so pwned that bitch. I've also taken to blinking hard at people when they arbitrarily command me to do things or do whatever I'm doing differently. I find the subtle gesture to have a profound effect on whomever I use it.
Some people are really nice though and even though I wouldn't go as far as using the word "camaraderie," I can at least say that they show apathy. I also think that I might be getting molested by the female meat manager. It's not particularly troubling. I just all of a sudden placed her excessive touchiness as something more than maternal. Eh, no harm no foul.
The worst part of the day was that after working from the ass crack of dawn, I had to return to work for a mandatory, staff-wide meeting. WTF. This is food service, not a think-tank. After an hour of managers talking about all-time-high profits — none of which I've seen personally— with no end in sight, I grabbed another slice of compensatory pizza and walked out. I've done worse for no punishment, I'm guessing this will be inconsequential too.
I've taken to playing weird, manipulative mind-games and all-in-all coming off a little crazy. A clearly white co-worker of mine with a clearly Hindi name, who has been particularly nit-picky and an all-around displeasure to be around, informed me that she grew up in an American Sikh community. I quickly informed her that my sister is living in a real Sikh community —a family— in real live India. I so pwned that bitch. I've also taken to blinking hard at people when they arbitrarily command me to do things or do whatever I'm doing differently. I find the subtle gesture to have a profound effect on whomever I use it.
Some people are really nice though and even though I wouldn't go as far as using the word "camaraderie," I can at least say that they show apathy. I also think that I might be getting molested by the female meat manager. It's not particularly troubling. I just all of a sudden placed her excessive touchiness as something more than maternal. Eh, no harm no foul.
The worst part of the day was that after working from the ass crack of dawn, I had to return to work for a mandatory, staff-wide meeting. WTF. This is food service, not a think-tank. After an hour of managers talking about all-time-high profits — none of which I've seen personally— with no end in sight, I grabbed another slice of compensatory pizza and walked out. I've done worse for no punishment, I'm guessing this will be inconsequential too.
Monday, August 4, 2008
Somehow, I Still Have a Job!
Somehow, I still have a job.
To recapitulate, I had a bad job, hated that job, didn't feel like going in for a while, didn't, lamely pretended to be sick and somehow, someway, still have a job. In all I worked for a week and then mysteriously didn't come in for three days (until I had two days off anyway) and now I find myself unintentionally employed.
I called up my employer today, mostly to brave getting yelled at long enough to inquire about getting paid for my week's worth of work. Upon finding out that I was well, my employer asked if I'd like more hours to make up for the ones I've missed. What could I do but say yes? The truth is that I hate the job but I need cash, so keeping the job that I somehow still have is the the simplest way for me to keep having cash. In addition, I'm perplexed and excited at the prospect that my being incredibly irresponsible could be completely inconsequential.
Anyway, I'm hoping to get a better job (like one of those ones I've been looking for since I graduated that don't care how much I can carry) so that I can quit. But maybe when I quit next time I'll do it like a grown ass man. Probably not.
To recapitulate, I had a bad job, hated that job, didn't feel like going in for a while, didn't, lamely pretended to be sick and somehow, someway, still have a job. In all I worked for a week and then mysteriously didn't come in for three days (until I had two days off anyway) and now I find myself unintentionally employed.
I called up my employer today, mostly to brave getting yelled at long enough to inquire about getting paid for my week's worth of work. Upon finding out that I was well, my employer asked if I'd like more hours to make up for the ones I've missed. What could I do but say yes? The truth is that I hate the job but I need cash, so keeping the job that I somehow still have is the the simplest way for me to keep having cash. In addition, I'm perplexed and excited at the prospect that my being incredibly irresponsible could be completely inconsequential.
Anyway, I'm hoping to get a better job (like one of those ones I've been looking for since I graduated that don't care how much I can carry) so that I can quit. But maybe when I quit next time I'll do it like a grown ass man. Probably not.
Saturday, August 2, 2008
Day Two: Still Chicken Shit
It is day two of the standoff and we are at a standstill. I am unsure if I will go back to work ever and my boss, well, she either thinks I'm sick or an asshole. The thing is I sort of caved and for that and probably a bunch of other reasons, she'd be right.
After not showing up for work and turning off my phone so as to avert the demanding queries of my boss, I ended up actually having to turn my phone on for something or another. I also messed up last week when I never programed my job's phone number into my phone —this might have been a subconscious attempt at making this a temporary affair. So when my phone rang later that afternoon (day one) I wasn't sure who was calling me. The New Mexico area code could have very well been an employer from a new and better job. Probably not but whatever. The point is I answered the phone and was cornered. My boss just seemed so nice. And all I could manage to do was squeak out some feeble response about being sick or something.
Later I was tricked again by the area code and responded to further questions about the timetable of my convalescence with another lie about having an abscess that would doubtlessly take a few days to heal. For some reason being sick felt more legitimate than just hating my job as far as reasons for just not showing up go. Now I'm unsure if my boss knows of my ignoble lack of courage or if she is awaiting my recovery — I'm afraid it is the latter and that I'll actually have to quit again, but this time to her face. Then again, maybe I could use a few more bucks as well as a few more people here that hate me.
After not showing up for work and turning off my phone so as to avert the demanding queries of my boss, I ended up actually having to turn my phone on for something or another. I also messed up last week when I never programed my job's phone number into my phone —this might have been a subconscious attempt at making this a temporary affair. So when my phone rang later that afternoon (day one) I wasn't sure who was calling me. The New Mexico area code could have very well been an employer from a new and better job. Probably not but whatever. The point is I answered the phone and was cornered. My boss just seemed so nice. And all I could manage to do was squeak out some feeble response about being sick or something.
Later I was tricked again by the area code and responded to further questions about the timetable of my convalescence with another lie about having an abscess that would doubtlessly take a few days to heal. For some reason being sick felt more legitimate than just hating my job as far as reasons for just not showing up go. Now I'm unsure if my boss knows of my ignoble lack of courage or if she is awaiting my recovery — I'm afraid it is the latter and that I'll actually have to quit again, but this time to her face. Then again, maybe I could use a few more bucks as well as a few more people here that hate me.
Friday, August 1, 2008
Quitting My Job
Right now I am having a standoff. A standoff with the man. I quit my job, well sort of. By my count I should have already been at work for an hour but here I am, not bathed, playing on the interwebs, and enjoying every moment of my purloined freedom. So I guess by "quit my job" I mean I didn't go in and am not answering my phone like a coward.
The job itself wasn't terrible, but it wasn't nice. It was a lot of things —annoying, happening when I wanted to be asleep— but those things are natural for a job of this kind. What was intolerable was that everyone took it very seriously. In my experience, if I got the job done and done well, that was it. Go home. Here everyone likes making sure that the way I do my job is exactly like theirs, even if their methods are contradictory. And don't get me wrong, I bend. If one person tells me to do something one way, I do it. Case closed. Here, though, following one person's orders would get me yelled at by another. This whole process involves me being watched a lot. Also, there is no camaraderie between fellow underlings. It seems that everyone was far more likely to go suck up to the boss than to rise up against him or at least subvert him. To hell with this job.
Minutiae aside, this job was making me feel bad. I never came to hate my co-workers so quickly before. Therefore, I am not going in today and have not even called to say why. Okay so I'm not exactly doing anything brave or nice or even really warranted. I'm just doing what I have to do.
Right now I am watching my phone not blink because it is not on. I imagine there are a lot of angry calls coming in and my voicemail is filling up with loathing rants but I'll contend with that later. For now I have the whole day to waste as I please.
The job itself wasn't terrible, but it wasn't nice. It was a lot of things —annoying, happening when I wanted to be asleep— but those things are natural for a job of this kind. What was intolerable was that everyone took it very seriously. In my experience, if I got the job done and done well, that was it. Go home. Here everyone likes making sure that the way I do my job is exactly like theirs, even if their methods are contradictory. And don't get me wrong, I bend. If one person tells me to do something one way, I do it. Case closed. Here, though, following one person's orders would get me yelled at by another. This whole process involves me being watched a lot. Also, there is no camaraderie between fellow underlings. It seems that everyone was far more likely to go suck up to the boss than to rise up against him or at least subvert him. To hell with this job.
Minutiae aside, this job was making me feel bad. I never came to hate my co-workers so quickly before. Therefore, I am not going in today and have not even called to say why. Okay so I'm not exactly doing anything brave or nice or even really warranted. I'm just doing what I have to do.
Right now I am watching my phone not blink because it is not on. I imagine there are a lot of angry calls coming in and my voicemail is filling up with loathing rants but I'll contend with that later. For now I have the whole day to waste as I please.
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