Caterwauling

It’s almost 9. That’s p.m. I am at work. I am done with my part and am waiting for the layout. Yes, we’re behind schedule, but not by much. Demure is still hinting that she’s available to go to the publishing establishment with me on Friday. (Jesus Tap-Dancing Christ NOOOO!!). She’s been pleasant today — either she is beginning to like me or she is reveling in the fact that she wrote a job description that will exclude me from the running.

I dropped a snappy little note to Frosty, one of several, saying,

“Hi again Frosty,

I was just re-reading the Veggie Gazette job description, and of course I’d love to apply for it; However, I am concerned because my work history doesn’t seem to match the established requirements. How should I approach this?

Thank you,

Dawn”

What I wanted to write, but Shan talked me out of, was, “I am overqualified to do my superior’s and her superior’s jobs, yet you don’t want me to be a pissy little editor? Jesus H, people!”

I don’t know. During the course of the day, they changed the description and re-sent it to me. I need to submit a resume by the 29th. I am thinking that I will wait UNTIL the 29th to do that, because by then, I might not want to go for it.

I need to do something to at least make money on the side, so I can get current on my bills. Then, I’d like to take whatever that side business is, and make it into a lucrative effort. Shan and I talked about that today. She wants to see me teaching classes, but I’d rather consult with small groups instead of being an instructor. We came up with a brilliant website idea that we’d like to create, maybe have people subscribe to it for $12 or $15/year. It would have to be an advanced website, one that would require no maintenance from us, whatsoever, other than monthly updates. But I think our planned content is relevant and in demand.

At any rate, perhaps if I can dump some of the writing on freelancers here, perhaps I can do freelance writing somewhere ELSE. Our subject matter ranges from the insipid to the fascinating, and every damn where in between. I’d like to write about things that matter to me, even if it’s with another association that just supports a different cause. I never end up working for causes that truly light a fire under me (except ROP, but that’s unpaid). But then again, maybe if I can write a proposal that can bring in salary money, then maybe I can get a small position there.

Yes, I think I’ve found my next project. 🙂

**picture Kyle from “South Park” standing indignantly in my office, reading my e-mail**

They just e-mailed the job posting for the Marionette of the Veggie Patch Gazette position. They wrote it so that even I couldn’t qualify for the job. Funny, I got the fucking paper together on a wing and a prayer with no useful assistance from them, and now they have the audacity to think they know what it takes to fill the position?

Demure was in my office yesterday, asking about HTML and PageMill. She had literally no idea what to make of those phrases and had to ask me about them. So I gave her the 10-cent explanation, how it’s essentially irrelevant for the job at this juncture. So, those appear in the descrip, of course. The good thing is that not only do I know both, but I can also justify why we don’t need to know it. But they are asking for five years’ experience as managing editor of a publication as a mandatory requirement (which I don’t have, thanks to them. Bastards!) I not only CAN, but HAVE, done evey thing else on their list.

The funny part was, the job post was mailed with another open position for a processor. So I emailed Frosty and said, “I’d like to apply for the processor job.” Heh. Frighteningly, from the job descrip, I am probably more qualified for that position, anyway.

… or any other vacation spot. I’m not sure where my ideal destination spot would be (although sipping coffee and writing in a notebook on the Riviera sounds damn near perfect), as I have limited vacationing experience, but I want to go on holiday somewhere, anywhere just to get my heart healed and my head out of my ass. I’m tired of the sameness, the perfect ennui that is coursing through my veins where healthy blood once flowed.

It’s time for an emotional dialysis — flushing out the toxins and those people and things that are polluting my being. I’m tired of trying to grasp at slippery, flimsy life preservers — I am going to build my own damn yacht, and anything/anyone that doesn’t belong at my private party is going to be thrown overboard.

Well, so we’re behind at work. No shocker there. But I like Mac Guy. I think he got blazed before he came in yesterday — but that’s just MHO. And I certainly couldn’t blame him, if so.

But I am going to roll in late today (to compensate for all the extra time). It’s 8:15 and I have yet to scrub my butt. I just nuked the house with Clorox Spray, as the roomie has typhoid or Norwalk or something and I do NOT want to get it.

Last night, I was a bad Mommy and fed Maddie some banana pudding from Popeye’s, and the brat bounced off the walls all night from her sugar rush.

But the work will get done, and for that, I am grateful. I pissed off Demure yesterday by telling her that until we figure out the hiring situation, I refuse to kill myself doing two full-time jobs next month. She was kind of irritated. Oh well. I get irritated that every time I’m on the phone, she plants herself in my doorway and stares at me until I end the call. Usually, it’s only a personal call to Shan anyway, but still, I don’t stare at her — of course, that would probably burn my eyes out of their sockets, as she is part of the Evil Veggie Patch Empire that must be destroyed. Queen Quaalude, anyone, to marry King Kumquat at the Veggie Patch Playset?

Temple left me a note recently to ask if I could do a cast/plot synopsis. lol. Where would I begin? Let me think about how to work that one. 🙂

At any rate, hopefully everyone will be out of my hair today so that Mac Guy can finish the layout. And I have last-minute interviews coming today, believe it or not — deadline was last Thursday. Demure said our deadlines are set too late every month, and I said, no — deadlines are fine, but our members have this ridiculous sense of entitlement — it’s their paper, and deadlines and consequences don’t apply. I told her she is welcome to convey to them that my world DOESN’T revolve around their schedules and that deadlines AREN’T cotton-candy parameters that melt at will.

Bleah. I don’t think we have agreed on one single thing yet. Oh, wait — we do agree on one thing — the fact that I do not have a future there. My reason to stay is Shan, and I hope to god that we can run, not walk, out together … soon!