two things that have nothing to do with each other.
¡Venid a ver la sangre por las calles,
venid a ver
la sangre por las calles,
venid a ver la sangre
por las calles!
-From "Explico algunas cosas" (okayish english translation)
(for those who don't [farley] AH-BLO ESS-PAN-YOLE [/farley] or are too lazy to click on links:
Come and see the blood in the streets,
come and see
the blood in the streets,
come and see the blood
in the streets!)
I'm not sure if you automatically have to wear the pretension hat for quoting Neruda, but if so, it's a fair cop. Chapters upon chapters have been written about those lines, so I won't dissect them or try to add my minutaetive (new word!) two cents. I'll let it speak for itself: those words give me chills no matter how many times I've read them. Even as i was typing the translation, I nearly teared up. More rage and pain are evoked in three repeated lines than in subsequent historical tellings of the Fraquista takeover of Spain. I think "Explico algunas cosas" ("I explain a few things") is my favorite poem of his. Just read those words. God. When I spend my day (actually, life) being outraged and I feel drained, I can turn to things like this.
Which brings me to my next thing:
Sorry I haven't updated in awhile. The good news is, I got a job doing research in a high-profile Senate campaign, and I love it. The bad news is, I work at least 12 hours a day 7 days a week. It's taxing in every way imaginable: I'm exhausted, I get far less time at home and with my amazing evil twin. I spend all day researching (yes! I am a nerd for a living!) evil men doing evil deeds (no less than GW Bush and The Talented Mr. Rove, and their illustrious cohorts, against whom I'm formulating strategies and so forth), and my frappuliberal rage seeps from every enlarged-by-greasy-restaurant-food-diet pore. I never get enough sleep, I eat shitty food; my face is puffy from stress and said lack of sleep, my eyes and smile are drawn and droopy, and i've gained easily 5-10 pounds because I eat 3 meals a day at the campaign, at my desk, while working. And I make far, far less money than I should. I'm paid a salary, but when taking into account my insane hours and 30-minutes-each-way (driving) commute, I make a few dimes more than federal minimum wage (a ludicrous $5.15 an hour- I cannot imagine trying to live on that for real). I think I've actually developed a heart condition and have no insurance. And I really feel like a bad housemate/girlfriend/person: when I get home I have no energy to exercise or clean, I just sit around until it's time for bed. I usually go to bed long before Aziz, and don't get much of a chance to talk with him, since he usually works until 11, 12, as late as 3. So I've lost a lot of self esteem from this experience, as I can barely pay my bills on time or do the dishes, AND i've gotten fatter.
On to the point of this update: I actually like my job and love my coworkers- after all, we see each other far, far more than we see our families. But I was hired on the spot. I don't directly work for the campaign, i work for a research firm that's been contracted by the campaign. And I'm worried that I suck at my job. So you all have to be my guinea pigs while I hash some things out.
My boss is someone I admire very much. She's in her early 30s, and she and a friend started this business which has worked for many high-profile candidates. The research is top-notch, and I feel so lucky to work for a group that produces such thorough, incredible, solid results. I love my boss; she can be stern, but she always knows what to do.
But lately I've started to fear that I don't know what to do. I made very clear in my interview that I only have experience with academic research, but based on my apparent brightness and charm, she hired me. And to be fair, she's very helpful with everything. But there's always that nagging fear that plagues me.
Then last week, I left early one day. I had (due to a retarded alarm-clock mixup) also come in late. By "early" I mean 7:45ish. Our Primaries were two days beforehand, and before the primaries, people had been leaving about 8 or 9. I had finished everything, and asked if there was anything left to do. My boss was at the other office, so the research director at the campaign said it was fine if I left, and indeed most people from the campaign had already left. An unpaid intern left at the same time I did. I thought everything was fine, and was excited about getting home a little early for some extra rest. Then my boss called and was very angry at me for leaving early. She said I can't think I'm the same as an intern. (even though I do the very same work the intern does, I'm paid. Not that the difference was lost on me.) She said it's fine for the campaign to tell me I could leave, but she pays me. She said campaign hours were now 9-9 and I'd effectively taken 3 hours off by coming in early and leaving late (gasp! only a 9 hour day!). I was blindsided and crushed. I truly thought I'd covered all my bases. I apologized profusely and said I'd do some work from home right away. I was totally broken. I sobbed for an hour over this seemingly trivial slip-up. A rightly bewildered boyfriend was here to assure me I'm still a competent human being and let me wipe my nose on his shirt, but the damage had been done. I've completely lost all confidence about this job.
It's gotten to the point where I'm afraid to ask a question. I'm afraid she regrets hiring me. I'm terrified I'm thought of as a liability. The other day, I heard her discussing post-Election contracts with her business partner (she had this conversation right in front of me). She referred to "the three of us"- the two of them and their assistant. When I was hired, I could have sworn she said they'd consider keeping me post-election. The logical explanation is that we didn't discuss that, and I was only hired until the election. My brain, however, says that I've lost all chances of being hired by these people, and they're cavalier enough to discuss it in front of me. I want to cry all the time. Not only do I have no confidence about my domestic abilities or body, now I have zero faith in my ability to do my job. I'm not normally the type who needs to be constantly reassured and validated, but my boss thinks I am because I'm forever second guessing myself. I'm terrified I'll make a mistake and her contempt will be laid bare at long last.
I know I need to talk to her about this. And I know that part of the reason I'm so scared of her is because I admire her so much. I just need to get up the courage to say "I need to know what I can do to be better at this" and have that be the gateway to a frank discussion of my anxieties. Because they're killing me. Actually. Anyone who's read this far, any suggestions/encouragements?
A note, though: I know I use this space to bitch a lot and not to tell of the joyous things in my life (of which there are many). And I'm not a negative person, and I am, all told, very happy with my life. Part of the reason for that is my unrelenting optimism. A lot of the reason is supportive family and friends. And a huge part of that reason is that at the end of the day, I still get to fall asleep (even if it's just for a few hours) next to the best person I could ever have dreamed I'd meet. I realize I've never written an entry about how wonderful my boyfriend is, and I really should. He deserves that at minimum, though I believe a testament to my incredible awe about our relationship is my persistent inability to describe it. But you all deserve to know about my fabulous evil twin and our shenanegins, chicanery, and exploits. We're basically the most hilarious couple on the planet, in addition to the one with whom the largest percentage of men and women worldwide would like to engage in a threesome.
Anyway, I have so many great things in my life, and I couldn't do it without all of these things. So please don't worry about me, or worse, think I'm just a big Negative Nelly. I'm actually really happy. And I'm going to bed now. Happy. But with not nearly enough sleep.
Shut up Aziz, I like this song.
venid a ver
la sangre por las calles,
venid a ver la sangre
por las calles!
-From "Explico algunas cosas" (okayish english translation)
(for those who don't [farley] AH-BLO ESS-PAN-YOLE [/farley] or are too lazy to click on links:
Come and see the blood in the streets,
come and see
the blood in the streets,
come and see the blood
in the streets!)
I'm not sure if you automatically have to wear the pretension hat for quoting Neruda, but if so, it's a fair cop. Chapters upon chapters have been written about those lines, so I won't dissect them or try to add my minutaetive (new word!) two cents. I'll let it speak for itself: those words give me chills no matter how many times I've read them. Even as i was typing the translation, I nearly teared up. More rage and pain are evoked in three repeated lines than in subsequent historical tellings of the Fraquista takeover of Spain. I think "Explico algunas cosas" ("I explain a few things") is my favorite poem of his. Just read those words. God. When I spend my day (actually, life) being outraged and I feel drained, I can turn to things like this.
Which brings me to my next thing:
Sorry I haven't updated in awhile. The good news is, I got a job doing research in a high-profile Senate campaign, and I love it. The bad news is, I work at least 12 hours a day 7 days a week. It's taxing in every way imaginable: I'm exhausted, I get far less time at home and with my amazing evil twin. I spend all day researching (yes! I am a nerd for a living!) evil men doing evil deeds (no less than GW Bush and The Talented Mr. Rove, and their illustrious cohorts, against whom I'm formulating strategies and so forth), and my frappuliberal rage seeps from every enlarged-by-greasy-restaurant-food-diet pore. I never get enough sleep, I eat shitty food; my face is puffy from stress and said lack of sleep, my eyes and smile are drawn and droopy, and i've gained easily 5-10 pounds because I eat 3 meals a day at the campaign, at my desk, while working. And I make far, far less money than I should. I'm paid a salary, but when taking into account my insane hours and 30-minutes-each-way (driving) commute, I make a few dimes more than federal minimum wage (a ludicrous $5.15 an hour- I cannot imagine trying to live on that for real). I think I've actually developed a heart condition and have no insurance. And I really feel like a bad housemate/girlfriend/person: when I get home I have no energy to exercise or clean, I just sit around until it's time for bed. I usually go to bed long before Aziz, and don't get much of a chance to talk with him, since he usually works until 11, 12, as late as 3. So I've lost a lot of self esteem from this experience, as I can barely pay my bills on time or do the dishes, AND i've gotten fatter.
On to the point of this update: I actually like my job and love my coworkers- after all, we see each other far, far more than we see our families. But I was hired on the spot. I don't directly work for the campaign, i work for a research firm that's been contracted by the campaign. And I'm worried that I suck at my job. So you all have to be my guinea pigs while I hash some things out.
My boss is someone I admire very much. She's in her early 30s, and she and a friend started this business which has worked for many high-profile candidates. The research is top-notch, and I feel so lucky to work for a group that produces such thorough, incredible, solid results. I love my boss; she can be stern, but she always knows what to do.
But lately I've started to fear that I don't know what to do. I made very clear in my interview that I only have experience with academic research, but based on my apparent brightness and charm, she hired me. And to be fair, she's very helpful with everything. But there's always that nagging fear that plagues me.
Then last week, I left early one day. I had (due to a retarded alarm-clock mixup) also come in late. By "early" I mean 7:45ish. Our Primaries were two days beforehand, and before the primaries, people had been leaving about 8 or 9. I had finished everything, and asked if there was anything left to do. My boss was at the other office, so the research director at the campaign said it was fine if I left, and indeed most people from the campaign had already left. An unpaid intern left at the same time I did. I thought everything was fine, and was excited about getting home a little early for some extra rest. Then my boss called and was very angry at me for leaving early. She said I can't think I'm the same as an intern. (even though I do the very same work the intern does, I'm paid. Not that the difference was lost on me.) She said it's fine for the campaign to tell me I could leave, but she pays me. She said campaign hours were now 9-9 and I'd effectively taken 3 hours off by coming in early and leaving late (gasp! only a 9 hour day!). I was blindsided and crushed. I truly thought I'd covered all my bases. I apologized profusely and said I'd do some work from home right away. I was totally broken. I sobbed for an hour over this seemingly trivial slip-up. A rightly bewildered boyfriend was here to assure me I'm still a competent human being and let me wipe my nose on his shirt, but the damage had been done. I've completely lost all confidence about this job.
It's gotten to the point where I'm afraid to ask a question. I'm afraid she regrets hiring me. I'm terrified I'm thought of as a liability. The other day, I heard her discussing post-Election contracts with her business partner (she had this conversation right in front of me). She referred to "the three of us"- the two of them and their assistant. When I was hired, I could have sworn she said they'd consider keeping me post-election. The logical explanation is that we didn't discuss that, and I was only hired until the election. My brain, however, says that I've lost all chances of being hired by these people, and they're cavalier enough to discuss it in front of me. I want to cry all the time. Not only do I have no confidence about my domestic abilities or body, now I have zero faith in my ability to do my job. I'm not normally the type who needs to be constantly reassured and validated, but my boss thinks I am because I'm forever second guessing myself. I'm terrified I'll make a mistake and her contempt will be laid bare at long last.
I know I need to talk to her about this. And I know that part of the reason I'm so scared of her is because I admire her so much. I just need to get up the courage to say "I need to know what I can do to be better at this" and have that be the gateway to a frank discussion of my anxieties. Because they're killing me. Actually. Anyone who's read this far, any suggestions/encouragements?
A note, though: I know I use this space to bitch a lot and not to tell of the joyous things in my life (of which there are many). And I'm not a negative person, and I am, all told, very happy with my life. Part of the reason for that is my unrelenting optimism. A lot of the reason is supportive family and friends. And a huge part of that reason is that at the end of the day, I still get to fall asleep (even if it's just for a few hours) next to the best person I could ever have dreamed I'd meet. I realize I've never written an entry about how wonderful my boyfriend is, and I really should. He deserves that at minimum, though I believe a testament to my incredible awe about our relationship is my persistent inability to describe it. But you all deserve to know about my fabulous evil twin and our shenanegins, chicanery, and exploits. We're basically the most hilarious couple on the planet, in addition to the one with whom the largest percentage of men and women worldwide would like to engage in a threesome.
Anyway, I have so many great things in my life, and I couldn't do it without all of these things. So please don't worry about me, or worse, think I'm just a big Negative Nelly. I'm actually really happy. And I'm going to bed now. Happy. But with not nearly enough sleep.
Shut up Aziz, I like this song.