About me, in the office

I am an awake person- I don’t like the idea of sleeping through life – even through the painful parts. Sometimes I think of myself as a mini-fountain of creative thoughts that just come uncontrollably bubbling out on a regular basis. When I was a child, I didn’t hope to become a temp, and I never dreamed or dared to fathom I would end up in an office. In fact, I was sure that my god-made purpose was to be a cowgirl. I don’t know how I would have functioned in the real world, but when you’re a kid, the real world is what you make it. Somewhere between then and now I realized it’s more of what it makes of you, unless you’re some crazy wizard who can change that around. The real world remained a mystery to me for a very long time; in fact I don’t think anybody told me what life would be like after college. Nobody told me that you would eventually sink in to an office chair and remain there until your retirement day. Nobody told me that the best years of your life are your youth mainly because you aren’t in an office, but rather, in school. Had I known how much more fun school is compared to work, I would have taken advantage of every class ever offered at my college.
After college, I realized that my major, art history, would eventually lead me only to gallery and museum jobs. I had problems with my local museums, which wouldn’t even hire me as a volunteer/intern, as I ironically had no experience in museums in the first place. And then I found that my personality didn’t click well with those that flutter about gallery floors. Perhaps it was my clothing? Or maybe my inside voice was too outside? Maybe I just didn’t get it. But I still don’t. So I guess I’ll enjoy art on my own and with friends. So I dwindled away from my passion in career searches and went through several thousand resume emails, hundreds of calls and dozens of interviews. I am really good with feeling comfortable with a perfect stranger. Give me ten minutes of your time and soon we will be close acquaintances. Oops, you blinked! Suddenly we’re close friends.
I became a pro with interviews and before I knew it, I was getting more offers than I was denial and I had a wide smattering of options for jobs laid out before me. Suddenly I understood that it wasn’t the resume so much that impresses but it was the physical presence of confidence and a well harmonized first impression that really put the smiles on the interviewers. It wasn’t UCLA that prepared me for a career, it was the career search itself that taught me not only how to get a job, but also, what job I would actually want. And, as of now, I can tell you that nothing has really prepared me for the recent moment of realization that I don’t want any type of normal job. I don’t want something considered a job. In fact, I’d like such a nice job that it doesn’t feel like a job. I want to write, I want to do my art and most of all I want to travel and take photographs. And since this realization, I have to say, my inner “flower of freedom” has been browning at the tips and curling under, just knowing that I wouldn’t be able to have this type of job for a while. There is no type of support in existence as of yet, that could make me confidently walk away from the 9-5s for good. In turn, it is the 9-5s that will help me escape that very cage, hopefully.
With such a wide variety of jobs laid before me, I realize that a fear of commitment to anything involving staplers and photocopiers arose inside me. I desire no strings attached, no benefit package, no long-term projects or sick or vacation days, no long term set expectations… I desire to be an island, a nomad, someone who can leave work physically and mentally and not take a single strand of worry back home with me. I need to be outdoors, hiking, biking, dreaming and thinking. My own pathos cannot handle a barrage of papers, tasks, expectations, apologizing for things that aren’t my fault or underrated “issues” and having to constantly sound like an incapable woman who needs help from those who cannot handle a strong, confident and correct woman. I want such a little output of energy towards work that I am able to make serious headway in my personal endeavors. Like I said, I am a pulsating luscious soul and I honestly don’t see any permanent position in a paper-laden cubicle-cut world.
Unfortunately, I somehow grew up around all the right machines and my quick to learn, sponge-like behavior took in all the right talents and skills to get me easily into admin assistant jobs. So, with this skill set, and my nomadic dream, I became a temp.
There were many other factors that helped me get into such a weird, particular, unspecific job. But if I told you they wouldn’t make any sense. For example, the summer in Georgetown, when I helped a mother of an ex-boyfriend build a company, one little idea at a time and feeling professional despite the constant interruption of well, anything by this bored and rich dimwitted petty family. Or, how about my love of waking up at 8am, hiking with my family dog and then getting in to work for a graphics temp job at 11am to end the work day at 7pm and still feeling refreshed. Or how about in middle school when I had such an amazingly poor attendance record known to man that was always one day away from having to go through that grade a second time. Or how about… well, anyway, you get my point; I think I was born a little more wild and untamable than others.
So suddenly I am a temp. It is my place in the world and it is my title. My world, my life, my personality and being has been sucked into a tiny nutshell labeled “temp”, and that is how the world views me as I pass it by so fleetingly and so quick. I’ve walked many office floors in Marin and the bay area and I’ve met several thousand people, some I’ll never see again and others now have a permanent place in my life. I feel sometimes like a moth jumping from one candle light to the next, fluttering quickly and working vigorously to make inches of difference in the world but with my wings flapping too hard and fast and the untouchably delicate powder wearing, I’ve exhausted myself and learned that the temp world, and possibly the office world wasn’t a strong enough flame to keep me enticed. With the flame gone and no single amount of money holding my happiness tantamount to my unhappiness with an office space, I’ve resorted to what I innately do best when needing to whittle away my negativity in my own little comforting inner-flame kind of way- I create. Drawing used to be the sole output and then painting of all types and then photography. Photography. I could say it in my sleep without a single slur or stutter I love it so much. But in this case I needed to expel from my mind, body and fingers the experience of temping that I brought home on a daily basis in a different way, writing. Which I also love intently. So I will describe each thing whether evil or insanely beautiful, lovingly, not for you but for myself because it is something that I haven’t been able to enjoy in several years. But I hope you enjoy it as well. I’m going off-course, expectedly, but that will be part of the beauty of this book, as I find it a beauty in life, especially in the office.

ABOUT THE BOOK

Although you may read this book and learn about me and about working in an office as a temp, you should not look at this as memoir, nor as an instructional book. Most importantly, it's a funny book- I experienced a grab bag of funny moments while learning the life of the temp and I really, really wanted to write about them, so I hope you laugh. If you like dysfunctional stories told with sarcasm and sass, then this book was made for you.

what is this blog about?

I saw the Movie Julie & Julia the other day and it gave me guts to blog again.
I haven't had much to say recently and there's nothing more that I'd like to make fun of than someone who talks a lot and doesn't have much to say.
But I remembered that I wrote a book a couple years ago and never did anything with it. Plus it's in dire need of some severe editing.
So I vow to begin going through this book, one page at a time and begin editing and posting for your reading pleasure. The book was temporarily titled Ephemera, however a literary agent told me the title was trash, so even the title will be under construction during my blogging.
And let me be clear- I am VERY open to editing suggestions!