hawkeyegirl.com

So I really am in the process of updating this site- I’ve even gone so far as to get a copy of Dreamweaver.  Now if I just figure out how I actually want the site to look…

http://www.lavenajohnson.com/

I’m going to write my congressman- you should too.

Call me Vespa, Princess of course.

I have to get out of here. I can’t stand this place anymore. This job, this city, this state, this region. I just can NOT deal.

I accepted the fact that I wouldn’t be loved here. Without trying to be judgmental or arrogant, and honestly I’m not- I knew coming into this that the type of person who enjoys and excels at office work and the like is usually not a person with whom I can agree. Of course it isn’t all-encompassing and I realize that I am stereotyping a bit here but in general it’s the truth. (gee, hedging much?)

With a small handful of exceptions- mostly those in my same position, working for the money and looking for our glory elsewhere- the people here do not like me. I am willing to take on some of that burden with certain people. I know I can come off wonky sometimes- but here’s the kicker folks- I KNOW I DO THIS AND ACTIVELY STOP MYSELF FROM GOING THERE.

I refuse to talk politics, religion and country music at the this place, and yet its like they all KNOW without my having said anything that I am agnostic at best, hate organized religion, am more liberal than these people think anyone outside California can be, enjoy ‘alternate’ music, support abortion and gay rights and look forward to the day when I can say, “See I told you I wouldn’t change my mind as I got older and ‘learned’ about life!”

I guess these lovely people here can read minds, because they HATE me. I avoid grammar snobbery here for the express purpose of avoiding the whole “I have a degree and you don’t,” thing that people seem to think I run around saying in my head. See I made this monster mistake about two years ago when I started here and they won’t let me forget it. Someone asked me where I went to school and I responded. I know, what a bitch am I? Don’t I know better than to say I went to U of I when they ask me the motherfucking question?!?

So what am I supposed to say when someone asks me how to spell ‘decision?’ How about the fourteen times a day I get asked to fix someone’s computer? I tried, I really tried to say I didn’t know or couldn’t help, complete with self-deprecating smile. What happened you ask? They gave me the Evil Eye and stalked away, to mutter with someone about how I was unwilling to help people and was being a bad team member. Really? Fuck your damn team. Fuck them to SpaceBall I and back.

The sad thing is, as I get ready for a four hour piece of hell, where if I forget my manners and pronounce ‘masonry’ correctly I’ll be ostracized, it’s like this everywhere in this damn state. In the whole fucking Midwest. The vast seething majority with their litters of children with too many y’s in their names and ‘green’ SUVs and savings accounts that actually have money in them because they get the raises and the bonuses for kissing so much corporate ass while anyone who may not fit the mold is pushed and pushed by narrow minded, gossipy, two faced mind readers who will wave cheerily as they kick your ass to the curb.

I hate the Midwest, so very very much.

I hate this job even more.

It doesn’t matter what I do, no matter how innocuous the conversation, no matter how hard I try not to act in a way that might be perceived as arrogant. (It’s not arrogance people! I don’t think I am better than ANYONE! Just because I choose to use grammar correctly and can fix a few glitches does not make me smug, cocky, snobby or any other vaguely erotic adjective.) It doesn’t work, I still get dragged into offices to discuss my excellent (mind numbing, monotonous) work and poor attitude. Why didn’t I go out for drinks with the girls? Why don’t I chat with the new people when I fix their computers? Why my boss didn’t even know I had a dog!

Fuck you. (Ooooooooh! Is THAT the attitude?)

I’ve spent the better part of my life trying to live up to the ’she’s so smart’ rigmarole I’ve head since diapers. I don’t believe in myself, not like I did when I was a kid. It sucks and its something I am working on, but what that means is, I may overcompensate a bit, but only ever with people I know. I’m too sure other people are so much smarter than me; I keep my mouth shut unless I’m sure of the answer. I hate hearing myself say that because it isn’t me, but that’s another post. Anyway, basically this ‘work’ experience has screwed me either way. I’m fucked if I answer questions correctly of fix a computer, because then I’m an arrogant bitch who thinks I’m so smart. If I play dumb, I not only feel terrible about myself, reinforcing the ‘you are so stupid’ vibe I get from myself, but they just treat me the exact same way! Like I enjoy being ignored and scorned (I love rhyming).

I know what you’re thinking. I am way over the top here, feeling sorry for myself. I normally don’t give a flying fuck what these people think about me and to be honest I don’t care. But for two years I’ve struggled with the complete shun/whisper fifth grade gossip crap and I’m sick of it. And a little scared too.

Am I really so bad a person no one in a huge company wants to speak to me? Am I really so stupid/cocky/self-centered people avoid me at all costs? Do I smell bad? Am I an idiot for letting these people get to me or are they right?

God, I am not acting like myself at all.

Ready to fall over laughing? Click Here.

Quote by Thich Nhat Hanh

I grieve for this woman. France should be ashamed of itself today.  A horrible, debilitating disease from which there is NO relief.  The denying of the right to die for a mentally competent adult should be considered a crime against humanity. 

I fervently hope some brave person took it upon themselves to aid her in this quest for relief, relief from the physical pain and the unimaginable emotional pain of having your family watch as she turned from Maman to monster.  To that brave person: whoever you are, I’d hug you if I could.  Once the grief lessens, sleep well at night, you did the right thing.

The idea of losing a family member terrifies me.  I’ve been very lucky thus far- I didn’t lose anyone really close to me until I was 21.  It still affects me everyday.  Yet, the idea of watching a family member suffer in agony for an interminable period from a terminal illness… I can’t even put into words how scary that is. 

I’d like to find those people who rallied against this woman’s right to die.  I’d like to stuff red hot pins in all their appendages, and eyes, and stomach, and anything else it would take to get them to realize a life of agony is no life at all.  Like Hanh says, its fear of the unknown- fear of cosmic retrobution- fear of death that gives people the stubborn will to keep fighting when no hope is left, to suffer bravely and ask for no help.  This is the way a lot of people react to diblitating, painful illness.  However, when the pain is so great and the chance for recovery none existant, eventually a person moves past that fear and with head held high, walks proudly into that dark night.  Or tries to, until close-minded people with those same fears try to stop them.  Shame.

There are a lot of reasons I follow the hoardes and watch American Idol, but this is by far the best reason:

“David Hernandez tells us about his job at a pizza bistro. He says the words “pizza bistro” like a million times, which no matter how many times you say “pizza bistro” it still means teabagging out-of-town businessmen.”(written by Jacob at www.twop.com)

My GOD!  I almost lost my mind laughing when I read this.  For the rest of the recap, click here.  

Seriously, reading the recaps is the number one reason I make sure I watch each episode.  That may sound odd since the recaps are supposedly there for those who missed the show, but the unbelievably funny writing is twice as awesome when you can picture exactly what they are talking about.  Like David Hernandez teabagging a business man.  Hehehe.

www.wikihaunt.com

I’ve decided on a rating system for my reviews, finally. What to expect: Title/Author/Genre/Edition (duh) Buy it/Borrow it/Bury it- in other words; Highly recommend, Marginally recommend or recommend for certain people only and Don’t recommend. 

Writing (readability), Characters, Plot, Ending (others as needed): A-F scale, just like school, complete with pluses and minuses. Things that may pop up if relevant or interesting: Best/Worst line, Best/Worst character, Sequels/Prequels, Mood, Age group (not that I am an expert), Re-readability, Cover art, etc. There will also be a final/overall GPA, just like school.   Joy! 

Remember that episode of The Simpsons when the teachers go on strike (title: The PTA Disbands season 6, if you care) and Lisa runs into the kitchen in full panic-mode screaming “Look at me! Grade me! Evaluate and rank me! I’m good, good, good and oh so smart!” Yep, that’s me.

*Note, this will be adapted to movies, music, people, places, minerals, vegetables or whatever else I decide to review.   

I hate LOLCat speech.

HATE.

I don’t care how granny-ish that makes me.

HATE.