My hero. ~hearts and flowers~
“Take a deep breath…. It will all be okay. Remember, stress isn’t cracked
up to what it is supposed to be. My motto is to GIVE stress, not get it!”
“Happy Friday (or how I like to refer to it ‘down a bottle of red wine and
pizza night’)!”
“Keep (me) in the loop for a business. We’ll all be rich (and happy). …”
Hi (Demure),
I am having some difficulty with the additional project I’ve been assigned, which is to give a dummy layout to you and (King Kumquat) by noon today.
With the ad list coming from (Graphic Goddess) on the 13th and from (Ad Angel) on the 16th, I really don’t know on this date how many ads I will end up with and where they will be placed. My expectation is that we run give-or-take the same quantity of ads (oftentimes from the same advertisers) from month to month. The rule is to put them at the bottom of the page, that’s all I can really say at this point. i have sent e-mails to (Ad Angel) and (Graphic Goddess) to ask if they can sneak me a quick preview of the lists they will generate. (Graphic Goddess) can, in fact, get me an advance list.
My concern is that I will spend some time assembling this dummy layout, but unfortunately in the publishing world, things change on a dime. For instance, (Town Crier) handed me an obituary that (King Kumquat) would like for me to pull together. At this moment, it could be a two-column-inch obit or it can be a feature story — it’s anyone’s guess. Accordingly, i don’t want to give you a layout and have you wonder why I give you something completely different in two weeks.
At any rate, I of course can give you something, but I think my time would be better spent working on the stories I have been putting on the back burner as I am trying to rapidly learn how to do the editor’s job.
Thank you for your consideration,
(The Goddess) Dawn
I will now light MYSELF on fire. 🙂 The Veggie Patch, too.
Tiff and I came up with a brilliant (well, it was mostly Tiff’s idea) children’s toy — The Veggie Patch Playset! Complete with Enraged Banshee Dawn dressed as Malibu Barbie and Anatomically Correct Gay Ken with their little friend Transvestite Skipper, who strips for Gay Ken when Barbie’s at work. Veggie Patch Maddie comes ripping across the house for food in the flavors cats naturally crave. And for an extra co-pay, horse tranquilizers are included!
Holiday party is tonight. King Kumquat and P. Demure want my plans in writing by noon today. I stayed late last night working on one — I have the more difficult one to do today. Y’Know, I had this problem when I was at Two Strikes — I spent more time MAKING plans than I did DOING WORK. So guess who’s going to be in the office this weekend, working on her stories? Hmm? Take a wild fucking guess.
I have been playing their games so damned beautifully, I could just cry. And then, P. Demure met with me yesterday. TEMPORARY raise, TEMPORARY promotion, until an editor is named. And I have this bizarre title now, and I asked why, and she told me that I can thank past events for that. She said the (essentially bonus check) and its accompanying strange title were non-negotiable, and that was that. I told her that well, since I am doing the work anyway, I might as well be compensated for it, and for the record, a title is just that — a title. Now excuse me so I can go to my office and cry.
I’ve thought it best to not publish anything else related to work during the past few days, even though I have volumes of e-mails that I’ve sent to friends far from here. I’d just prefer to deal with this shit myself, without anything breaking my desperately needed concentration. But it’s like the lights are out, and I’m working on a backup generator right now. Although, last night I switched out of safety mode and into meltdown mode. Playing the game accordingly, I’m going to HR for an EAP brochure today (she witnessed part of my meltdown as I polished off my third pack of cigarettes in three days late last night, outside the building). She was very kind to me and told me straight-up that yes, I’ve got a lot to overcome, but the fact that I am showing up says a lot about me, too.
Shan and I have the words “faded memory” tacked up on Post-It Notes at our desks. And that is what this is going to eventually become for us. I told her my heart can’t break anymore — it is held together by invisible threads. And something Tiff said long ago when her own heart was broken has stuck with me — you can’t put a bandage over a wound that needs stitches. So when I get this issue to bed, I am going to work on mending me. I just hope I don’t crack in half before that time can arrive.