Thursday, November 13th, 2008
I have two blog entries in mind, but I have to deviate for a moment.
Today there were layoffs. Two of those people were women who consoled me yesterday when I was crying because I was afraid of loosing my job. I was afraid of not being able to afford my apartment and having to cancel my wedding. Now I get to keep my job and they get to struggle. I don’t know if I was any more deserving of a job than they were, and the whole thing seems very unfair.
I’m grateful, to have my job, to have both of my jobs and all my freelance jobs.
This economy has never been so scary as it is in this moment and I very sincerely hope that, no matter what your feelings are about him, Obama can do something to make things better for this country.
Tuesday, November 11th, 2008
Today I covered a Veterans Day ceremony for the paper. I like doing events organized by the VFW because they’re generally awesome guys and they always have funny stories and dirty jokes, plus they always really appreciate the coverage.
So, I’m standing there in the freezing cold, shifting from one foot to another, waiting for the event to start, when I catch a snippet of a conversation the two men next to me are having.
“I got rid of all my comics, because they take up so much space, and I’ve decided to go to just trades.”
“I was going to get some of those Absolute editions but they’re like a freaking million bucks.”
I smiled to myself and briefly thought about talking to them about some of my work in comics but decided that just because they like comics, doesn’t mean they like the same kind of comics, or that they’d be interested in my blabbering. So I stood, and I shivered and I waited. The largest chorus of children I have ever seen sang the National Anthem and then slowly departed from the stage area. Suddenly, I hear something familiar over the mummer of small voices.
“Did you catch the latest Star Wars Cartoon?”
“Yea, (something I can’t hear but could be General Grievous) captured R2D2.”
“Jade loves Star Wars, she can name all the figures.”
“(Wife’s name?) won’t let me show it to (daughter’s name?) yet, she thinks she’s too young.”
I had to smile to myself because I remember when I was six years old and my dad and I watched Star Wars together. Apparently, although I don’t remember this part, I fell in love with the Ewoks and religiously watched their cartoon show every Saturday morning. I know, but what do you want, I was six and they were talking teddy bears with spears. To this day, Star Wars is fun bond I have with my dad and a few years ago, in Disney World, he bought me a stuffed Ewok that I named Bernard.
Then I stood and I wrote and I froze some more. My friends moved to another area to get a better view of the show and I left an hour before the end because I couldn’t feel my fingers any longer.
Monday, November 10th, 2008
Last week was a whirlwind of stress and frenzy, the weekend was a calm and relaxing.
In a spam of two weeks the Phillies won the World Series and we elected Barack Obama President. The timing of a weekly paper that is published on Thursdays meant that coverage for both events fell on the same week, plus there were all the local elections. It was the kind of frenzy that if I worked for a daily paper might have had me sleeping under my desk and working 20 hour days.
Today, I bought tickets to take my little sister and her boyfriend to see Twilight. Considering how stinking expensive the tickets were, the movie had better offer me something of interest — fight scenes, soundtrack, I don’t care what it is — to offset the uncomfortable love story. Seriously, Bella, you are so annoying.
I’m also feeling incredibility uncomfortable today. Now that Devin and I are engaged everyone and their mother, whether I know them or not, has some kind of insane expectation of me. Opinions about what I should do about my last name, about kids, about how horrible it is that I don’t care about place settings for the wedding or how awful it is that I haven’t tried on a wedding dress yet. It’s people in my family. People at work. People on the street. The cable guy.
I had no idea how interesting things like weddings and marriage are to so many women until I started planning one and I also had no idea how deeply I do not care. Part of me wants to say screw the wedding and have everyone meet us in Vegas over Christmas and do it fast, fun and dirty. “Well, what about the gifts,” people usually ask me, like we’re going to be receiving millions of dollars and rare and precious gems at the wedding. Honestly, if it came down to it I really could buy my own flatware and life would still march on the same as it did yesterday and the same as it will tomorrow. The universe will not grind to a halt, nor will I suddenly burst into flames.
I actually have something more interesting (to me at least) that I’ve wanted to write about regarding music, how I find it to be inspirational in my creative process, and what it means to me despite the fact that I’m not musically inclined in the slightest. I’ve been thinking about the entry the last few days in the car, kind of writing it in my head, and maybe tomorrow will give me the clarity to sit down and write it.
Friday, November 7th, 2008
I do a lot of freelance work, but by day I work for a newspaper. Today, I had an utterly disheartening conversation with someone regarding newspapers and their current state of demise. And it’s not so much about entirely about newspapers that I’m upset, it’s about the demise of quality news coverage.
I always wanted to be a journalism when I was a kid, because I felt the position was so respected and so important. I felt, at the tender age of twelve, as though journalists held the truth in their hands and much like cops or fireman, were able to do important things and impact people because they were ethical and responsible and reported The News. What can I say, I was twelve.
I’d like to believe that to some degree my youthful impressions of the field were true once. The currently reality of it saddens me to tears.
I’ve talked to other journalists about this and there is a constant struggle between reporting the actual news and reporting what people want you to write, a power play if you will. Sources are suddenly under the impression that we are their personal soapboxes and some have a complete and utter disregard for an unbiased news source. I don’t know if this is because of legitimately corrupt newspapers and reporters, or because of good simply American egotism. Regardless, there is a perception on the part of; I’d say the vast majority of readers, that papers (really, any news source) have a very real slant. It isn’t so much having to stave off the wants of overzealous politicians that makes this sting so badly, it is the perception of regular readers that you are not giving them with the whole truth and don’t care enough about them to fairly present both sides. That hurts.
But probably the hardest thing to deal with is a general disinterest on the part of Corporate America in real news coverage. By real news coverage I mean byline stories, I don’t mean press releases or “enterprise pieces” which are basically paid advertising in disguise. There is a perception that I am finding to be frighteningly real which various other reporters have, that publishers and editors and owners care more about advertising revenue than actual content. I can’t get my brain around this one because even though advertising generates revenue you still need people to read the paper/Web site/listen to your podcast/watch your program/etc. for the advertising to matter worth a lick and for the product to really grow.
It seems like, as with so many other industries, news sources, especially printed papers, have been run into the ground by ignorance, egotism and good old-fashioned consumerism.
I would like to believe that the future of real, unbiased news reporting lies in new media. I can think of countless untapped and amazing ways to share the news which have nothing to do with a printed newspaper. I would like to believe that journalism can be a real respected field and that the days of presenting people with news and sharing opinions and open dialogue are not over, but currently I’m disenchanted. I’m disenchanted because of what has happened to printed newspapers and because no one wants to seem to take a hard look anymore, they seem to want to leap to conclusions, make nasty comments on the Internet and remain, well, ignorant in the case of some.
Sincerely though, I think in a time of economic and environmental crisis we ought to put consumerism as we’ve known it out to pasture and look again toward an exchange of ideas and news that actual holds people accountable so that we can demand change. That is, if we’d ever like things to get any better at least.
Sunday, November 2nd, 2008
I like kids in the same vague sort of way that I like certain animals - cute from a distance but don’t try handing me one. I never played house or mommy as a kid and I’ve somehow dodged holding or even being near babies for nearly twenty-six years. This isn’t something I feel the need to remedy either.
At the same time I kind of like the idea of Devin/Stephanie kids because I feel as though they’d be smart and somewhat gawky-cute. Not annoying like the 99.9 percent of children currently being badly parented and keeping me from venturing into malls or movie theaters, where they scream and squawk about wanting this, that and the other thing at the top of their miniature lungs.
Mother of the year candidate in the making, I know.
Yesterday my Nana, sufficiently creeped me out to the point where I’m still shuddering by saying she wanted great-grandkids i.e., mine, unless my sister has a secret that I don’t know about. Yeesh. I’m getting the chills just thinking about it.
Part of what annoys me the most about children is “mommy culture” and the expectation that I give this planet a child. It makes me want to have my ovaries removed, bronzed and sat on my mantle atop a plaque that reads No. A bratty reaction, sure, but I don’t take well to social expectations of women especially regarding children. I find it offensive and downright vulgar that people just expect me to have a child just because I’ve got a uterus.
I want an awful lot more from life than bottles, diapers and soccer games. I’m not the type of woman that would ever join a PTA or organize a bake sale, nor am I going to drag a hoard of screaming children through a shopping complex so that they can wreak havoc on consumerism. Sure, I love my hypothetical-non-existent kids that may or may not ever happen but I will never have them because someone wants me to, nor will I sacrifice myself or my career and spend my days happily making arts and crafts and owning a minivan. For the record, nothing will ever make me own a minivan.
I resent the cultural implication that having kids is the ultimate fulfillment in a woman’s life. For some, this is probably true, but not for all of women. I also resent the implication that once you have kids you cease being you and are just Mom. I will always be me and will have needs and wants as a person and as a human that will not be filled simply by the fact that I may or may not have offspring. Sorry, not the apex to my existence.
I’m fully aware that I may be making some people cringe with this post and I’m fine with that. It’s not only unfair to women that society foists this expectation on them; it’s unfair to their kids as well. My parents were quite loving and doting but I’ve grown up with quite a few kids whose parents had them because it was what they were “supposed” to do, and that expectation weighed heavily on them, perhaps more so than their parents. It’s better and more responsible to admit that kids aren’t for you than to squeeze a few out and allow the television to raise them while you slowly drink your life and regrets away.
So perhaps one day I’ll have a little mini-me to call my very own. Perhaps I won’t. Whatever happens it will be because I choose it, not anyone else. And should I make the decision to have kids they will never run screaming through a department store, own a Bratz doll or ask for a Louis Vuitton anything. Nor will the other mothers like me very much, and I’m okay with that too.
Thursday, October 30th, 2008
In general, I’m pretty ambivalent toward sports. I don’t actively hate them, but I won’t choose to sit down and watch or listen to a game either. (I couldn’t even follow a football or hockey game even if I wanted to, because I have No Idea what is going on.) Sports enthusiasm however, particularly in regards to my hometown teams, is something that even I am not above catching.
Sports are huge here. It’s so palpable that growing up it was almost as if we had a five person family; my mom, dad, sister and my parent’s fandom. Lately, though, fandom has been more than palpable; it’s a fever. I mean, come on here people, we’re talking about breaking the curse — you have to have some hometown pride for this, even if you don’t give a flying hootenanny about sports under normal circumstances, which believe me, I don’t.
Right now everyone is friends. People are running up to each other in the parking lots of grocery stores and malls, screaming and shouting and hugging each other. Last night, Danielle, Amy and I worked like a well-oiled machine to get out of the mall no more than five minutes after close, in hopes of catching the final inning. We ran out the double doors, through the parking lot, coats, purses and baseball hats streaming in our hands screaming, “GO PHILLIES,” at the top of our lungs.
I missed the end of the game, because Devin would not stop playing Fable2, but as soon as I caught the flashing headline “Phillies win World Series” I called my mother and we did what two grown Italian-Philadelphians do when their sports team wins; we screamed into the phone for five minutes while jumping up and down.
So tomorrow I’m going to try to go to the parade and then the whole thing will be over. Everyone will go back to being grouchy and rude, the Eagles will loose, the Flyers will loose and my father will complain that we are a city of losers while stabbing angrily at his potatoes. Devin will have his cheesesteak privileges revoked for the rest of the year for not turning on the game and about twenty years or so from now, when my kids (exist) and are just about grown the Phils may even win it again.
Monday, October 27th, 2008
Today I received sample ballots in the mail from Washington Township. I didn’t get these where I used to live, but I think they’re kind of a neat tool because I forgot that the Freeholders were up for re-election, so now I have a day or two to research who I’m going to vote for. Of course, at the top of the ballot are the Presidential candidates.
On the way home from the grocery store I was thinking about how long it seemed so long ago that I voted for a Presidential candidate. Then I remembered skipping up the steps to the voting booth before my 9:35 class in a plaid mini skirt, shredded fishnets about three shirts and striped arm warmers. I remember the abject look of horror on the Republicans faces was supremely funny to me, and I took all their literature with a ghoulish smile just to mess with them.
Then I realized I’m nearly due for a five-year college reunion, because they do them at the five-year mark for the smaller schools, and believe me, I went to a small school.
Then I felt a little old, but I was completely okay with it because being out of college is so worth being old. Being old, may in fact rock.
Monday, October 27th, 2008
Back from the GXL 400 man LAN this weekend, which was honestly attended by more like 300 people, but let’s not split hairs.
I was irritated when I first got to the event Friday evening. There were a lot of sour attitudes and complaining about what LANs should be like. I don’t pretend to be an expert on these types of events, as I’ve only been going for a few years, but in my experience when a convention or event clings to the image of what it should be then eventually it dies. Remember kids, entertainment is currently in a constant stage of evolution and what you may have done in the past is not necessarily how things are going to be done in the future. It’s all about evolution baby.
I always have a much greater struggle at LANs than I do at comic conventions, because no matter how many times I go and work my ass off I’m always someone’s girlfriend/fiancée/wife or one of the “girls” and there for that reason, not because I choose to me. To some degree it seems as though I must continually win the male staff members (which is 99 percent of the staff) over every single time, despite the fact that they know me and have worked with me before. This grates on my nerves more than words can ever say. Saturday evening, one of the gamers actually grilled me for about five minutes or so as to why I was working the event. No matter how many times I said “Because I want to,” he didn’t seem to believe me. Devin happened to walk by around then (I know, worst timing ever) and the gamer in question turned to me and said “Oh, so that’s why you’re here.”
I had to calmly reiterate that Devin may be why I know about this event but he’s not why I’m here. Had I found out about it through some other means I would still be here and despite the fact that I have girl parts I am working damn hard, thank you very much, harder than some of your fellow man-folk. The concept was so wickedly hard for him to grasp that eventually I just looked at him and said, “It’s probably best if you just think of me as a guy in a woman’s body.”
Despite these frustrations I was really happy to do work that didn’t involve registration, the standard Women Job, at all. I helped to organize the TF2 and Texas Hold ‘Em tournaments, worked the mic for most of the event and ran and judged the costume contest. I only wound up at registration on Sunday, much to my dismay, because a computer was stolen and they needed extra people manning the desk. I’m not going to lie, I was bummed because I wanted to help manage the Ace of Spades tournament, but I spend all day Friday and Saturday away from the reg. desk, so I can’t complain too much. Several people actually came up to me and told me that they thought I was doing a great job with the announcements and that had me just thrilled. A few others said that I was a total hardass and that I really ought to reapply for that Pit Boss job at the casino. I was also fine with this.
But probably the highlight of the whole event for so many of us was when Sunday rolled around and we had to move the ambulances back into the bay. So Dad, I may have never learned to properly drive your truck but this weekend I drove not one, but three ambulances and I successfully maneuvered every single one of them.
Friday, October 24th, 2008
Forgive my language, but I am currently soul-shitting tired.
I am currently the kind of tired where I don’t especially know what I’m typing or saying and my thoughts are not a hundred percent cohesive, the kind of tired where I blink and my eyes feel cold. Yesterday morning, in a fit of sleep deprivation and a mental check-out, I stumbled into the kitchen and proceeded to eat a container of vanilla icing I was saving for a cake. I have no idea why I did that.
The office move has taken a heavy toll on me, as has trying to rectify the move with my part-time job, which is now over an hour away. I’m also kind of behind on my freelance work.
When I first moved over here I did something similar, worked two jobs and spent approximately 3 to 4 hours a night actually sleeping. At the time I felt all super-powered and awesome. I was so proud of my ability to go to bed at 3 and rise at 6. However, it didn’t work out so well for me in the long run and I eventually passed out (literally) outside my apartment with a fever of 104. That was two years ago and I could only keep it going for a few months; it’s certainly not going to fly for even a single month this time.
I’m planning to take this weekend to finish up my freelance work, hang out at the GXL and plan for ways to rectify my complicated work situation in a manner that will better suit my ability to sleep. I like sleep, we have a good relationship and I’d like for us to see more of each other than we have this past week. I think, though it pains me to admit so, that I’m going to have to look for a different part-time job close to my office’s new location so that I can cut an hour and a half of drive time out of my day. This will also free me up to not wake at dawn and arrive here super early, all for the sake of leaving in time for job number two.
I’m getting a little sick though, I can feel it in the back of my throat, and I just hope I can make all the proper arrangements and changes before some kind of nasty bug knocks me square on my bum. (Again)
Thursday, October 23rd, 2008
I have a Facebook page. I have a Myspace page. Sometimes I question how mentally sound both of these decisions are. There are reasons I tolerate Facebook, but there are probably more reasons that I despise it. I’m not even going to talk about Myspace — it’s not worth my time. Perhaps because it’s new, or perhaps because it cannot play music, Twitter does not bear the burden of any of my ire toward social networking.
I do enjoy using it to stay in touch with former co-workers or friends of mine in other states. It’s not as though I don’t talk to them anyway, but in the case of some people the easiest way to get in touch with them. I accept that aspect of Facebook and it doesn’t so much irritate me. It can even be fun to sometimes get in touch with old friends and see how their lives are doing; it’s nice to know the people I grew up with settled down happy and healthy.
What I cannot deal with is the applications. No, I do not want to be part of your virtual elven quest or help you with your virtual garden. I barely have enough time to e-mail my mother, read a book, or finish a video game. I do not have time to play D&D via Facebook. I don’t even like D&D. I’ve tried to drop hints by making my status messages “Stephanie is not going to accept application invites” but no one seems to get it. Do not ‘superpoke’ me or pretend to give me superpowers. Go LARP or something, but please, do not try and commit me to one more thing I don’t have the time for that clogs up my Inbox.
I also find it to be weird and extremely awkward when people get in touch with me under the same pretense that I am the same person they knew in college/high school/grammar school. A number of years has passed. We can only reminiscence about old times so much and sadly I am not the person you knew anymore. That’s not to say I don’t think of you fondly and that we can’t possibly forge a new friendship, but trying to force things back together the way they were is just awkward and strange.
By and large, social networking seems to be about who people think you are and not who you actually are. Most of the time it’s fine and lighthearted but sometimes it can become forced and strange. It may now outnumber porn on this great and wonderful Internet, but that doesn’t make it any less aggravating.
