…Life…

Posted by pixie | Filed under Uncategorized

Most of you “met” me when I worked for the site-that-shall-not-be-named, which was my dream job. I happened upon it — I was doing other, mundane work, when my bosses hit me with the idea for a music news site.  I started work — spent a few months in development, and then we started hiring people.  I remember jumping up and down in front of my boss’ desk screaming, “WE WILL HIRE THIS GUY” when I saw TomZ’s resume and samples. I was so excited for, and proud of, our site. I was the “Content Overlord” [in my own mind - my real title was “Content Manager,” I just thought the former would look much more badass on business cards…] and I cared so goddamned much about that site.

So now, I am going to tell you about me,

I went to college for journalism, but ended up majoring in fiction, playwriting, and screenwriting. There’s little difference, for the record.  I’ve worked all over the place — advertising, editorial, whatever. I have a supposedly impressive “client list,” but if you ask me honestly what I am proud of? Click the “interviews” link on this site. That is all I ever wanted. Those are some of the greatest moments of my life.

When I was high-school aged, I didn’t fit in. I had no friends in school and barely spoke to anyone. I met a skater boy named Paul who I fell in love with on the spot, and he introduced me to punk. We’d go to a store and the guy who worked there would feed us music — Dead Kennedys, Circle Jerks, Black Flag, Dead Milkmen, Operation ivy, Jawbreaker… whatever we needed. He saw it in us. And we grew together to r ealize we weren’t like everyone else.

I’ve gotten by… until now.  After the demise of the site-that-shall-not-be-mentioned, I was left unemployed, also known as “fucked up the river,” when you have rent, bills, and have had cancer twice-maybe-for-a-third-time and need medical insurance.  So I took the first job I could. I work at a state college, and it is hell on earth.

My BOSS is a horrible woman who makes 4 to 5 times what I do annually. She has a gripe with the way I dress — she’s afraid she will send me to interview someone [judgmental asshole] who will look down at me for my shoes or clothes. FUCK THAT. I have no respect whatsoever for people like this. THIS IS NOT WHO I AM MEANT TO BE.

There is so much more… I’m just drained.  All I can say is, since most of you who read this site are younger than I am? I would LOVE to ask you this: Don’t crap on anyone. And fight for your rights. We’re all people. I am a talented writer, a hard worker… someone who takes her job seriously. But yet, because I don’t have the “right” shoes or the clothes that please someone who makes a couple of hundred thousand per year? I feel like shit from 8:30am to 5:00pm.

I hate that the other site didn’t work. It was part of my life. I cared so much.

But I don’t deserve this.

And neither do you.

And neither does anyone.

I can’t fix this; I am some powerless girl just trying to get by and get the love of my life and my doggy back to me. But YOU… you are the future. Take control. Don’t let this happen. Don’t live in shame. Fuck them all. Nobody should ever feel bad for, or ashamed of, who they are.

hey guys? Just LIVE, okay?

LIV