Ex-Vox: Dyejob on Progress

Kielbasa y cerveza.

Summer's upon us and I'm happy but for no real good reason, so it's twice as weird as being depressed with good reason.

I did horribly this semester: an A, two Ds, and an F. My cumulative GPA is probably just a notch over 2.0. I'll never ever escape school. Wish I were one of those people who could budget everything -- time, money, escapist desires. Or, I wish I didn't want to do anything but go to school and work, so that going to school and getting a good job would just come naturally to me and it'd make me happy.

Wouldn't it be nice to simply be satisfied? It's like Jhonen Vasquez's interpretation of Heaven, a place where people have every power they could possibly desire, but they desire nothing and simply sit blissfully with no obligation.

Pressure to move out this summer, or at least before the end of the year, is on. It's on thick. Everyone around me has finally reached a frantic point where a plan might actually come to fruition. I don't know why I can sleep in so late and wake up in time for a night shift at an ice cream parlour and think, "GAHD, what am I doing WROOONG" -- so it's frustrating that I'm frustrated and yet I know how to solve the problem.

I feel like the past four years I've just been getting worse and worse about doing what needs to be done instead of just what I want to do. People always say you only live once, so do what you want and live it up and be happy. Weird thing is, doing the fun, irresponsible, unimportant things that I like to do makes me feel unhappy when I realize that I've been wound up with those instead of taking care of shit that will pay off later and bring me a deeper sense of happiness:

• Get a secure, well-paying job
• Finish school with a decent degree
• Move out of my parents' house

I can't see how any of that would make me unhappy. A little more stressed, a little busier, sure, but if I can just control myself I can't see how I could stay unhappy.

Greenscreen.

I got the job shovelin' ice cream, naught but a day after I was released from Third Planet. What'd I tell you, nucka. I got that job. My first week was a laugh riot, especially after Ashley finally said what was on my mind: "There's no way we're gonna look sexy in this apron-visor thing."

But hey, foodservice. Interesting venture for me. Fuel for my books. It may be easier to survive if my checks are supplemented with more evenly dispersed tip income, though it sucks that I'm working eight hours a week for minimum wage at the moment. So before I get my first raise, in either pay or hours, I look forward to everyone's tax return checks making them want to celebrate their joy with ice cream and songs and tips.

Also, the demon of Philosophy Test #2 was vanquished. I felt like Peter Griffin annihilating Cybill Shepherd. Maybe I can pass this class after all.

Now if only I could keep up on all my other homework? I'm doing some of it right now, in fact, and on my intermittent breaks I'm typing away in this little Voxie or playing somewhere else online. That's what the super-old laptop is good for -- distraction-free word-processing. I don't even have Solitaire on the damn thing!

Undaunted.

I'm through bitching in blog form about the recent cluster-fuck that was the end of my tenure at Third Planet Comics and Games.

I'm ready to attack the same ol' job circuit -- retail, mainly -- now with more experience and stronger references under my belt. Barely a day unemployed with two interviews lined up, and I haven't even been looking hard yet. I have interviewing down to a science and 15 fresh copies of my updated resume in my car, if needed. I'm going to get a job, come Hell or high water. To quote Dave Chappelle (oh no, how 2004), "Steadman, we gon' get this bitch."

But ah, enough hubris about my hire-ability for now.

There is that issue of school, about which I shouldn't be so hubris-y . . . at least not in all classes.

The philosophy class looks to be raping me with great zeal so far, but I remain confident. After all, I have only missed one day and we're already halfway through. The first time I took the class, I must've missed every other class meeting and slept through the ones I went to anyway. So at least I'm fairly sure I won't fail this time, but it'd be nice if I actually make it above a C.

Another class that's come up with suprising rape-zeal is my Mass Media class. I know, right? MASS MEDIA. I mean come on, I eat mass media, breathe it, snort it, bleed it, and when I sneeze, mass media comes out. But this woman is a fucking powerhouse and she expects the same from us. We have two things due every week, usually one very extensive assignment (example: mine this week was three pages long, single-spaced) and one piece of progress from our research paper. She has these damn news quizzes on what's happened in the LA Times all week, and the class average score is 4/10. I'm gonna cry one of these days in that class, because I walked in expecting no less than an A but I think now I'm gasping for a C. Well, we'll see what happens when I turn in my sexy research paper. I'm a former Chag Hag, so I can't come away with anything less than an A on that.

On the bright side, Public Relations class IS a cinch. Every assignment comes back with glowing remarks on it about how I'm a natural and the paper absolutely NEEEDS me on staff. I got 100% on my first test, and a paragraph of compliments at the bottom to boot. I am definitely using Kate as a reference in the future. Her class really makes me feel like I can do the work I want to do (and enjoy it), whenever it is I finally drag out of my academic hole.

And then there's Cultural Anthro. Yawn. Can't imagine I'd be failing the class. The guy doesn't give homework and he teaches right out of the book and those videos narrated by David "Kung Fu" Carradine. Now if only I could stay awake during lecture. But the big news is, I've decided, if credits work the way I hope they do, I am going to add an Anthropology AA to my plate. I'm already half done with it, so why the fuck not, y'know? I swore I wouldn't take all one discipline during any given semester, so what better for me than to double-major? I'm totally goofy-excited over this revelation and after this semester I'll meet with a counselor to see if we can work it that way.

To recap my academic goal:
- Anthropology AA
- Journalism AA (transferred to . . .)
- Journalism BA with concentration on PR
- . . . maybe a certificate in Business Management, but that's a long ways down the line.

So far, spring semester has been full of tumult but I feel like I'm coming out on top.

Survivalist.

So I'm not doing 15 units. I missed the deadline to add the other three units, and anyway I didn't want to have to pay (even with this semester's wonderful reduced fees). I'll probably thank myself later when I'm up to my ass in Philosophy reading.

For whatever reason, I've been able to keep my mind off of my pathetic financial situation, frustrations with work, and the overwhelming fear of still being rather ill-equipped to enter the real world. This is a good place to be, emotionally and intellectually. I hope I can keep it up.

After having a chat with one of my Journalism instructors and some of my fellow students in the class, I've calmed down about being "behind." Truth is, I'm not behind. I'm probably doing a lot better than 21-year-olds do, statistically speaking. While I hate "it could be worse" rationalizations, I've been entirely too consumed with "I could be doing better" thinking. It isn't about comparison; comparison takes all the joy out of achievement.

For a little brain-fuel I'm reading This Boy's Life by Tobias Wolff. I thought about putting my library card to good use but I've been given some wonderful books and now it's time to give them some well-needed attention. I've been thinking about a lot of odd things lately, like the Apocalypse and my femininity, and so a little reading might help encourage me to write. I wrote up a list of ideas for chapters in a Sedaris/Notario-esque book (file under humor) of autobiographical essays, and maybe reading about Toby will guide me to my laptop more often.

I'll have a little book queue written up soon, and maybe I'll get up to reading one non-school book every two weeks. Maybe even weekly! Then after I knock out all those books I own but have never read, I can start using the ol' Library Card. Plus, it'll give me something to do when I'm spending more down-time on-campus (something I resolved to do that should encourage me to study more, do less impulse-shopping, and use less gas).

The best news is that I really, genuinely think I can pull off this semester. I wasn't scared away by Thureson's little speech about the hard work required for her class, or the horrific testimonials she read from former students, or the fact that I failed her class once before. I'm a little worried that I might habitually fall asleep in my Thursday class, but it's nothing a little caffeine and effort can't fix.

The not-so-best news is that the other projects seem to be on indefinite hiatus.

The fire's a little slow-burning on ZXCVB at the moment, mostly because I find the design/interface aspect to be the most daunting, but I'm a bit more confident now in the staff's ability to produce material. The trick was to find prolific, capable people who were merely looking for an outlet.

As for Scarlett the Bass and the as-yet-unnamed guitar, they'll get their love and attention when I get better at falling into routine. It's only been a week into the semester, after all, and this week my aunt was in town. I think in a month I'll have figured out the rhythms of my week and then I can start scheduling in regular practices. And maybe even some exercise (heh). Band practices may not come into the picture for a while, though.

I said I'd see things through, and damn it, I will.

Entomology.

Again, we are embarking on another semester that starts out full of promise (and full of my own promises), accompanied by new projects I would like to work on.

 
This semester I'm attempting 15 units. My mom knows about 12 of them, but the extra 3 I'm paying for myself, and taking online. It's the makeup course for Journalism 1, because I got a D due ONLY to my own laziness. Seriously, LAZINESS. Nothing else to blame. I got plenty of points for what few assignments I turned in. That class must be cake. I'm just lazy. The rest of the semester consists of two other journalism classes, cultural anthropology (maybe I can try for an AA in Anthropology, heh) and another shot at that Philosophy course I failed a couple years ago.

 
I think I can do it. People may not see much of me outside of work, but maybe that's what I need to get shit done. Less play, y'know. I can stand to be a dull boy for a little while.

 
Sigh. I do this to myself all the time. I start out with high expectations and end up completely destroyed by my own ADD and laziness . . . so a little unofficial New Year's resolution of mine is to follow through with everything. I'm always such a flake, so good at planning and talking things up without actually biting down and seeing them through. Or worse, I do them on such a sub-par level that in the end I'm not satisfied and neither is the expecting party.

 
First project is the online zine, tentatively titled ZXCVB, and I feel like I'm one of two people (of a staff of six or so) who feels driven to get this done. And even then I'm probably the most driven. It shouldn't be so daunting a task to me, as I am always good for a written piece and am no stranger to building a site. The problem mainly lies in feeling a lack of support.

 
Then there's the other project that is maybe a month old now, the whole Alan's-band thing -- more specifically, not letting my bass and guitar (and later, the songs I wrote) go to waste. I taped up a basic chord chart in my room to try and get myself practicing. I think I need one of those squeezy things to strengthen my lefty, because I always get a hand cramp after practicing. Battle scars, I guess, and much love to the calluses forming on the tips of my fingers.

 
With both of the projects, there's an overwhelming feeling of intimidation. I feel like I should be able to do so much more, be much better at these things, be able to tackle them without breaking a sweat, and yet I plague myself with an intense feeling of self-doubt. It's total murder. That's why this year I'm actually going to do the things I say I'm going to do, and damn the feelings of boredom or loneliness that intersperse. There's supposed to be a sweet reward for accomplishing what you set out to do, and that reward is supposed to be better than any instant gratification I'd get by just dicking around in my supposed free time. So, goodbye to all of that and hello to the most boring semester of my life.

Mercury.

Let's sum up 2006 in one compound word: BULLSHIT.

I've done no good for myself. I can't say I'm any smarter, healthier, richer, more capable, or closer to independence than I was at this point last year. If anything, I'm quite worse off. That's BULLSHIT.

Well, at least I can say I've struck a few things from this list:

Things I have been thinking about spending money on:
* My own Netflix account Thanks, Erich
* That $20 swiveling office chair from Ikea
* A cell phone that I actually likeRazr for Xmas!
* A new iPod Thanks, Mom

And now, a special footnote list on making my room a sanctuary . . .
* Get a new VCR
* Replace my piece-of-crap stereoI might've meant the blue one, but I like the blue one now
* Get that damn tea set!
* Oh man, a fridge.

Some of those things were struck out because they were obtained, and some were just struck out because I don't think they'd be a good idea. Er, well, the fridge is the latter. Anyway, yay for a list with things crossed off.

I also have optimism going into 2007, a lot of hopes invested in it and the potential it carries.

Miracle of miracles, I passed all my classes, even my journalism classes (is a D passing these days?), but I didn't do that well in them. I need to start doing well in school, stop treating it like some bullshit thing I don't have to focus on. It's actually important, pertinent to what I'd like to do in the future. And for me to be doing so poorly and being so lazy is really an insult to my own intelligence, brutal abuse and neglect of my capabilities. It's been so easy for me, and for our generation, to just *know* that we're so smart and capable without showing it. We're letting ourselves go to waste, and that's why the generations above us thinks we're a bunch of imbeciles -- not like the generation after us, who are genuinely stupid.

And I need to start working out. I'm reconsidering the gym membership. I doubt my body can afford another year of simply gaining weight. Not glamorous in the least, my friends. It'll all be for the better, I'm sure, and I'll bitch and moan the whole way but I'll end up happy about my decision later.

And of course, I need to save money. Blah blah blah. Don't go out as much. Eat cheap. Control my food at home. Clip coupons. Conserve gas. Whatever.

I'm going to turn 22 this year. In short, I need to grow the fuck up.

Bad habits.

I talk a good deal about self-improvement in this journal, but upon looking back I see I've made little to no progress. After trying "like, really hard" for a month or so, the bad habits slip right back in and I'm right back where I started, if not worse off.

Fortunately at the moment I don't feel I'm worse off, but I can definitely say I've shirked responsibility entirely too much. I've spent a lot more time doing absolutely nothing (and being completely conscious of it while I do so) than I really should -- even NaNoWriMo, the ultimate distraction, has suffered a few full days' neglect. That's, like, 10k behind, if I'm trying hard.

Of course, I'm always going in and coming out of the quasi-nihilist thing where I bitch about how success is defined relatively and I shouldn't have to adapt to modern society's petty, bourgeois values on my search to find happiness. I think in the end I always settle on the moderate position between spitting on said values and hoisting myself up to show just how strong I am that I can handle them.

Fact is, you can't win the game without playing it.

Parasites eat systems from the inside, leech their lives from their habitats. It's fair. It's natural. It's just as natural as playing the game by the rules and winning that way. It's just as natural as saying "screw the game" and living by what sounds good at the time.

And I could go on about the myriad philosophies behind the phrase "do what you want" but y'know . . . I don't want to.

But back to what I was talking about -- I'm so horrible about saving my money for future enjoyment, but I enjoy spending it also . . . that's the issue in a nutshell. Bide my time -- invest it -- or piss it away doing silly, unproductive, enjoyable things? What's more important to me, now or later? Carpe futura, carpe diem . . .

Chunky bits.

I see already that two of my friends are in new relationships, and that two old friends are reaching out more than ever. The Democrats have taken the House again, and Midnight Insanity performs on the [Drag!] Queen Mary these days.

So I hope 2007 is a year of good changes all around, and I plan on getting in on all the newness.

New habits and hobbies forming. New interests being cultivated. New takes on old ideas.

Speaking of New, New York, not once but twice in 2007. Maybe more, who knows! Once for Buffalo, an old idea, and once for Manhattan, a new perspective.

Things I would like to see changed from 2006 to 2007

• My job situation, of course -- either shit gets really awesome at 3P or I'm finding new work
• Solidifying my academic path so I will be prepared for transfer at least by Spring of 2008!
• Moving out of the house and into an apartment with Cameron (eeee)*
• Er, losing some weight, actually; I've procrastinated on this goal for, like, five years so I won't be surprised if ain't shit happens
• A new car for me, plz, that'd be nice, k thx

* I still don't know how realistic this goal is financially but I want it to happen really bad. Twenty-two and living with Mommie and Daddie? I thought I was trying to escape the Filipino first-gen stereotype! If Cameron's ready and willing, I want us to be in our own apartment by winter of 2007.

Some vague, highly-optimistic goals for 2008

• Kicking ass at CSULB as I seek my PR degree
• Networking -- beefing up my proverbial Rolodex -- to set the stage for my firm
• Putting out (or up, in the case of Internet dealings) an independent arts/music zine
• Being all up on the query letters for freelance journalism
• Getting back into guitar, y'know, laying down some tracks with my band

High hopes, high hopes.

Solid 'tude.

Hm, half my tags aren't showing when I click to view tags. Whatever.

Foods I've been craving:

• Les crepes -- the Parisienne (chicken, mushrooms, chardonnay sauce) with a crepe suzette for dessert
• Sushi, specifically Philadelphia rolls with teppa maki on the side; of course, any sashimi will do also
• A perfect steak with a fully-loaded baked potato
• High-quality blueberry pancakes

While on the subject of food, I have been indulging in this ritual on Mondays where, after my six o'clock, I grab a quick dinner bowl at the Chinese food place on 190th and Normandie-ish. I always order the same thing -- barbecued pork over white rice, $3.80 or so -- and intend to go there with such regularity that the ladies will already know what's up when I walk in.

When I get my order I bust it open, and usually I read my class text and/or write in my spiral notebook, Sometimes I listen to my iPod and sometimes I get my easy-listening on and listen to KOST or whatever they play. The ladies behind the counter speak Thai (I think) and laugh, hopefully not at me. Most people stop into the joint for takeout, but I sit down and spend about a half-hour or so there.

Music's on hold again while I write -- though sometimes there are songs that come out of me. I have to gear up for a novel, and no creative distraction will be fitting. That's why I've been blogging everywhere a billion times a day, carrying that little notebook, reading everything, documenting as much as possible. Gotta get into the storytelling mood.

I guess writing is something that'll always happen with me and that's probably why I couldn't do it as a career. I don't want to end up hating it.

Crash money.

I see a $90 difference between this check and the last one, the result of my being a total retard. Once I stop doing that I think I'll be back where I'd like to be -- what with having gained an hour per pay-period and allegedly getting a raise, the paperwork for which I haven't seen yet. But $90. Ouch, my balls. That could have been savings.