Month: March 2010

  • The Ultimate Library and other writing contests

    In honor of National Library week, starting April 12th, Laurie R King, author of the Beekeeper’s Apprentice and other Holmsian fiction, is running a contest. Describe your perfect library and send it to her for fabulous prizes for yourself, and more importantly, whatever local library is near and dear to your heart in this blighted age of library cutbacks and closings.

    Here’s my entry:

    For a bibliophile such as myself only an entire house would suffice for a library: one room for my bedroom, also containing shelves for books yet to be read, and of course a small kitchen and bathroom. However, every other room of the house would be filled with books and shelves for books, from attic to basement, books of every description. Every room would have it’s theme, perhaps religion in the attic, history on the floor below, fiction on the first floor, with children‘s books, poetry, and various non-fiction in the cellar.

    Only a few cushy chairs and perhaps a few small tables would inhabit each room, for casual reading and books yet to be shelved. Though plush carpeting has its allure, patterned wood floors with occasional throw carpets would be more visually satisfying. Being of an eclectic nature and moderate (currently nonexistent) income, I have cobbled my collection together over a long period of time. No doubt if I had the opportunity to make an entire house into a library, the style would remain eclectic. Lacking the floor space for all my bookshelves, I have taken to stacking them, one on another, like some literary game of Tetris. If I had an entire house to myself, I would continue in this style, buying shelves of various size and design at yard sales and stacking and bolting them against the walls with room left only for large windows full of lush greenery. For if there’s one thing I love almost as much as books, it’s windows full of happy plants.

    People talk about the “crazy cat lady” but for me, it’s books. As Erasmus said, When I have a little money, I buy books; and if any is left I buy food and clothes. I will spend my life accumulating books. Whether or not I ever manage to fill an entire house with them, well that remains to be seen. Someday when I die, some small library (the smallest my family can find… I‘ve left orders) will greatly benefit from my book mania, though I wouldn‘t mind if my home became a shrine for booklovers throughout the world, a place to which they could bequeath their own best beloved tomes.



    I also entered a Haiku contest at Haiku Now. There are three categories with $100 prize for each. Deadline is tomorrow, so if you want to enter, whip out your pen and get to work.

    traditional
    salty breath whispered
    over endless golden flecks
    the sea murmurs sleep

    __

    contemporary
    lost and found secrets
    history’s puzzle pieces
    scattered by Dewey

    __

    innovative
    red cape in flight
    little red or superman
    Grandmother’s not on Krypton


    Only 8 more entries in chapter seven of the webnovel. Chapter eight begins the last week of April. In the meantime, I am trying to finish up the novel I started writing last year for Nanowrimo. I hope I don’t sound too biased when I say it’s REALLY GOOD. heh I’ll keep you guys posted.

  • Locks of Love

    Since leaving my job, I’ve noticed that I’m not wearing black so much. I haven’t gotten nearly so many headaches (though it’s only been about a week), and my back doesn’t hurt any more. Except my back does hurt right now, I think due to the fact that I just cut all my hair off.

    Well, not all of it, but about a foot to be sent to Locks of Love. I always said that’s the only way I’d ever cut my hair, and now having left my job, I figured it was about time to shed some of the hair grown in that stretch of time wasted at Borders. Of course, my hair hasn’t been this short in 30 years, so it’s kind of freaking me out a little. I can’t wait till my mom gets home. hehe

    I never realized how heavy my hair was… but I miss it. I think that’s why I have this pinch between my shoulders. I’m not used to the lightness of my head. heh I cut my hair to my shoulders, but being naturally curly, it’s shrunk a good two or three inches from that length. This’ll take some getting used to.

    Some good things about my newly shortened hair:

    • not so much hair in the shower drain -Just one lost hair would greatly diminish the flow of water as I showered before.
    • not so much conditioner used and therefore also less water wasted -I was seriously going through a third of a bottle of conditioner every wash, and that takes quite a while to rinse out too
    • easier to dye -I’ll only need one box of whatever from now on, henna or otherwise. I’ve been pestering my mother to henna my hair for over a year now and every single time ‘something’ would come up. Now I can do it myself. :P Mom. Or maybe I’ll go green.
    • fewer knots -Knots are something curly-haired people just have to deal with, but the shorter the hair, the easier the knots.
    • cuter curls -The longer the hair, the more it pulls out the curls. Right now I look like a dark haired Shirley Temple.
    The best part is, I didn’t have to go to a salon. I looked up Locks of Love, found their address and specifications, and can send an envelope with my hair right to them. (I’m waiting for it to dry before sending it.)

    Locks of Love
    234 Southern Blvd
    West Palm Beach, FL 33405

    Some things to remember if you want to donate too:
    • Colored or permed hair is acceptable
    • Hair cut years ago is usable if it has been stored in a ponytail or braid.
    • Hair should be bundled in a ponytail or braid. Hair that is swept off of the floor is not usable.
    • Hair that is shaved off and not in a ponytail or braid is not usable. If shaving your head, first divide hair into multiple ponytails to cut off.
    • Layered hair is acceptable if the longest layer is 10 inches. Layered hair may be divided into multiple ponytails.
    • Curly hair may be pulled straight to measure the minimum 10 inches.
    • 10 inches measured tip to tip is the minimum length needed for a hairpiece.

      Please Note:

    • No dreadlocks. These cannot be made into children’s hairpieces.
    • Nor do they accept wigs, falls, hair extensions or synthetic hair.
    • Hair that has been bleached (usually this refers to highlighted hair) is not usable.  Colored hair is not usable if it is colored over bleached hair.
    • Shorter hair can be separated from the ponytails and sold to offset the manufacturing costs. Though shorter hair cannot be used in the hairpieces, it still helps reduce costs.
    • Gray hair is accepted and sold to offset manufacturing costs.

  • I finally did it

    Well, I finally did it. I gave notice.

    Last week I had a talk with my manager. I basically told her the store looks like ass. Give me more hours so I can fix it. But I was more diplomatic about it (of course). o.O She said, oh, well we’ll have some extra hours next week. No problem.

    But what really happened was, they eradicated my Supervisor’s position. The poor guy, he’s had his job pulled out from under him for about the 4th or 5th time now. I’ve lost count. He’s been a supervisor several different times and even a manager once, and each time they decided, whelp, don’t need that position any more, and “fired” him, basically allowing him to stay on if he wanted to but not in that position. Now they’ve told him he can come back as part time if he likes, but probably at a pay cut in addition to the loss of his position. Now I am an extremely conscientious, hard working person. I don’t feel a job is worth doing if it’s not done right. But he bends over backwards for Borders. In regards to the sheer volume of work he does on their behalf, he does the work of two or three men. He does our manager’s job and isn’t it going to suck if he decides not to come back? It would actually be better for him if he took unemployment. He’d make more money at this point than he will coming back to “help” (which is to say, do most of our boss’ job).

    And you know what, I’m not going to profit from his loss. There’s zero job security at Borders. Any position higher than supervisor, and you can forget people acting with any kind of human compassion. I am not going to sacrifice my humanity for a job and a company I despise with every fiber of my being. So I told my boss that she can consider this change in store management my two week’s notice. They’re hurting for hours so bad, they can have mine too. I only stayed on because the amount of work they expect the merch team to get done is completely ignorant of the hours they give us. I refuse to be the only merch person left, busting my butt to get everything done on 8-15 hours a week because they don’t feel that the merchandising needs a supervisor any more.

    The thing is, my manager knew a week ago that they were going to do this, and she played it like nothing was going on. That they were finally just going to give us more hours. But they didn’t; they simply got rid of a full time position to divide those hours among the remaining employees. You know what that reminds me of?

    cannibalism

    Borders is now cannibalizing itself. And despite what they think, this does not help us with our workload. The people who work there will still have to get everything done that my supervisor and I did. And you know what? I don’t care. It’s someone else’s problem now.

    And I don’t care if Borders catches me blogging about them either. What are they going to do? Tell me not to come in? Coming in barely pays for my gas. I continued to work for Borders as a favor to my manager and my supervisor because I know how to show loyalty, not to a company but to the people that work there.

    Borders, you suck. Your business plan sucks. Borders does not know how to run a business. Borders does not care about its employees or its customers. Borders forces its employees to sell books that most of its employees don’t even want to read, let alone foist on an unsuspecting public. Whatever hinky deal they have going with the publishers to push these books on people is just not worth the effort and certainly can’t be worth the profit. Borders runs around all proud of itself for pushing books that end up on the bestseller list because of it and all I can think is that they’re like three year olds pleased with themselves for painting a wall with their own feces.

    So goodbye Borders. I don’t care any more. (And that’s a pretty sorry state of affairs, considering I’m one of the most conscientious people you’re ever likely to meet.) I hope you rot. I hope disgusted customers bring rotten fruit and vegetables to fling it at your windows. I am currently trying to get my fellow employees to walk out with me and picket. I foresee you out of business or at least greatly diminished within a year. Money isn’t everything, and the sooner you and other corporations like you realize this, the better. I am not a slave and no one who works for you is a slave. Stop treating us like we are worthless and easily discarded. We are people. Maybe, and I could be wrong here, but maybe, if big business chose to show their employees the same loyalty they demanded of them, the “positive work ethic” might not be such an antiquated notion.

    Borders… is a soulless, soul-sucking, undead monster of a business and the sooner someone comes along to drive a stake through its cinder of a heart the better.

  • Retail is a full contact sport (and I don’t have the protective gear)

    I found myself thinking this morning that the only reason I don’t kill myself is because it would be such an inconvenience to everyone who survived me. Does that mean I’m not really depressed/suicidal or that I’m just not depressed/suicidal enough to ignore other people’s feelings? I wonder if other people have these thoughts. It seems to me that the suicide and depression are both rather selfish mindsets, and I pride myself on being unselfish. At the same time, there must come a point where the burden of my existence weighs more heavily on the people around me than my death would. (What lovely thoughts go through my head the day before my 36th birthday…)

    Which is not to say that I am suicidal right now… I’m certainly less suicidal than I was right before Christmas. But therein lies the rub. In November, I asked my boss to drop me down to part time and only have me come in before or after hours to work. She kind of did that, but in the same breath, she’s not giving me the hours I need. I could work 20 hours a week this way, and believe me the store needs the work, but lately I’ve gotten less than half of that. I know it’s not entirely her fault since they keep cutting back on payroll, but on the other hand, the more she “plays ball,” the more hours they’ll take away because they think it’s okay. Well it’s not. One need only come into the store and see the sty that it’s become to know that we need more hours.

    But I digress. I had her cut me back because I am an agoraphobic and the stress of working retail, especially with the way retail has degenerated to sycophantic brown-nosing of both the customer and corporate, was taking its toll. I can count the number of back injuries I’ve had to seven that I recall over the years, and whenever I am stressed, the muscles of my lower back begin to contract until it feels as though a vise is crushing my tail bone. This is how it was at Christmas and had been for much of last year. I just couldn’t do it any more. More than that, I felt myself unable to even interact with strangers in a polite manner. It’s unbearable to even be on a busy highway more often than a few times a week… another reason I asked my boss to drop me down to work before or after hours… less traffic. More than two lanes? Forget it. It seems the longer I’ve been on the road, the crazier people drive. I want no part of it. It terrifies me, especially after my last accident at the end of 2008. I honestly don’t know how people pass their driving test any more.

    But again, I’ve gone off on a tangent. I need more money, and I can’t find any home-based jobs. I’ve tried. Most of them are scams and the rest are misleading. I’ve been working on my novel (over 65000 words now), but there’s still the act of getting it published when it’s done. What’s really ironic is that as an agoraphobic, it’s going to be next to impossible for me to do signings unless they put me in a box. :/

    Really… don’t worry too much about my talk of suicide above. It’s just a reflection of the frustration I’m feeling in regards to my job and money in general. I’ve been off and on suicidal my whole life. I’ve just never done anything about it aside from thinking of it. Like I said, I can’t imagine being that inconsiderate of other people’s feelings. Even beyond them missing me and feeling abandoned by me, there’s the fact that someone would have to find my body and someone would have to clean up after me and the financial burden of dealing with my burial. I wouldn’t do that to someone.

    I hate money. I really do. I don’t need a lot. Just enough to pay my bills. I hate worrying about it. I hate having to use it in order to live. I wish we lived in a Star Trek universe where money was a thing of the past, like the dinosaurs. I don’t want to work any more. But that’s a lie. I don’t mind working. I want to work. I am a conscientious person. I just don’t want to work in retail any more. I don’t want to work with people. I want to do what I’m good at without being supervised or having new instructions come down on a weekly basis that contradict or micromanage the instructions of the previous week. I basically want to be left alone to do my job (whatever it may be), and get paid for it (of course). I really think I must be borderline Asperger’s. It would explain a lot, and my brother is, and my siblings are both manic, so… yeah, I’m messed up. Thanks mom.

    I am not an unscrupulous or lazy person, but I’ve been thinking about applying for disability. My agoraphobia and anxiety issues are getting worse, as is my back. They exacerbate one another. I thought I was getting it under control over the years, but it’s to the point where I feel like lashing out at people again, like when I was still in high school. I want to smash things. I want to hit walls. I’m not a violent person, but I’m feeling crowded. I need to be free and by myself. The one clear benefit of suicide would be that at least I’d be turning the violence on myself.

    I really need to find something to do where I don’t have to deal with people except through an intermediary, like the internet. People make me sick, and usually not even because they’re being bothersome. I just need to get away from them. I suppose I could go work on an oil rig, but – I don’t approve of oil harvesting and I’d just be stuck for months with a smaller crowd of people. I can deal with people on my own terms, in bite sized portions, but I need to be able to walk away when it becomes too much.

    I just can’t deal with society’s social and monetary pressures any more. I could live on 20 hours a week, $10 an hour. I am a very frugal person, and I don’t mind work, as inconvenient as it is to my personal life. lol I just… I can’t live in this society. It’s not healthy. I said as much months ago when I pretty much gave notice by asking to be made part time, but I’m still not healthy. The pressure’s building again, and I just don’t know what to do. That’s the worst part, I think. I just have no idea what to do… how to make it better. The only things I can come up with are finish my novel and apply for disability. And neither one of them are quick fixes. In other words, they’re long term fixes for a problem that is becoming increasingly immediate.