July 2006 Archives

So, in the wake of the interview, there is waiting.

A lot of waiting.

You think I'd do something constructive.

Nope.

I'm so burned out from my job and the preparation from the interview that I've played mindless online games for two days. I'm just...tired.

The paper mache calls me, but not as loudly as my poor brain which is in need of a rest.

I'm thinking of taking off Friday just so I can rest. You know, even if it's just napping on the couch. I need a break. I haven't had one in a while.

Lord, I hope I get that job. I've reached the end of my rope with these stupid, ridiculously boring, beneath-me jobs I've been working. I'm ready to do that job I've been wanting to do since college. I'm ready to be happy in my work.

Fingers crossed some more.

Paper mache will follow.

Ya'll.

Seriously. Ya'll.

I was a nervous, fidgety, stuttering mess that did just about everything wrong you can do at an interview short of puking on the table.

Oh, well. No one can say I didn't work my ass off for this.

They should be letting me know by the end of next week. I'm going to try to not think about it.

On the bright side, the Ambient music obsession continues.

Lemon Jelly, ya'll. Oh, yes, we likes that, precious. We likes it a lot! Especially since it saved me from Sousa this morning.

You know, I turn on the classical station to hear something nice and relaxing. John Philip Sousa is not what I call relaxing, especially before an interview. I felt like I was trapped in a football game. This is the second time I've heard the morning DJ do that. I keep wanting to break into the booth and scream at him, "Who in the bloody hell plays Sousa at seven in the morning?!"

Freak.

On the other bright side, paper mache madness will start again tomorrow night.

Well, it's mostly sanding, and you know how I feel about that. But, hey, at least it's not re-working the 27 page monstrosity again. 27 pages. When I was done with it, it was actually longer than the original I had written in college. Sounded better, too, honestly, so there's that at least.

This has been the first night in two weeks I've been able to relax.

It's niiiiiice.

Anyway, thanks for everyone's support on the job thing. Now, we wait...





I was still a bumbling idiot; I don't care what anyone says.

Okay, so about an hour ago, I finally finished the last of the papers. That was the twenty-seven page monster that had consumed my life for the Second Time. (I originally wrote it in college. I officially hate it now.) I just got them printed. I also printed some copies of my resume, just in case, and put everything in a nice leather folder. So, now, for the first time in two weeks, I'm sitting here and just relaxing. My nerves, of course, have been trying to get weird on me all day, but I keep telling myself that I've done everything I possibly can to prepare for this interview, and all they're going to do is ask me some questions. It's No Big Deal.

That's what I keep telling myself.

At this point, once the interview is finished, it's beyond my control. I'm actually feeling pretty good right now, but I'm trying to get myself good and relaxed, so I'll be this way come tomorrow. I need to accept that as badly as I want this job, there is a chance, however slight, that I won't get it. I need to not be nervous. There's no reason to be nervous.

I'm exhausted now and just want it to be over. Lara said this is a good thing because it means I've really done everything I can. I hope so. I've never worked so hard for an interview in all my life.

Or spent so much.

Almost $200 on an outfit for this interview! I'm all stylin' and stuff! (Thanks, Lara!) But, it was still nearly $200.

I also cancelled everything this weekend, including the SCA event that turned out to be very fun, to finish these papers.

They better bloody damn well hire me.

Dammit.

This week, I can go back to my paper mache. Life might be my version of normal again. Can I get a Woo?



That's what I'm talkin' about!



Still, wish me some luck tomorrow, talking to my nerves to unwind them aside, I really want this job. Here's hoping.

Fingers crossed!


On a side note, ever hear of Ambient music? Okay, so I've lived under a rock, but it's this electronic, lovely, chillin', groovin', jazzin', lounge stuff that I've absolutely become addicted to. Love! It! It's modern lounge! Woo!

And, the cheesy lounge is still awesome. Martin Denny rules, folks.

Also, the Art Tart, may have to take over this week. We'll see...

Writing test.

Tomorrow.

9:30 AM.


Hiring supervisor sending "things" to be filled out and sent back.

Whenever.


One paper to write.

One to edit.

By Sunday.


INTERVIEW.

MONDAY.

8 AM.

sobs quietly in fear


This opportunity has never happened before and is probably my one shot for a very, very long time if not forever. My career path hangs in the balance. I can honestly say this is the most important interview I've ever had, and I have never worked so damn hard for it.

But, no pressure or anything.

hyperventilates and faints

The second paper is still not finished, and the monstrosity is still not rewritten. Work has been done, but I've been distracted by phone calls, pet emergencies, David Lee Roth doing Bluegrass, and cookies.

Look, I wish I was lying...

On a good note, they haven't called for an interview yet.

On a bad note, they haven't called for an interview yet.

The universe just can't be satisfied.

I hope I manage to finish everything before the weekend. I have an SCA event to go to where I will be serving iced tea and hankies dipped in ice water for the masses suffering from the heat. I will not have time to work on the papers this weekend. Besides, if I have any time, I need to work on the paper mache.

NEED to work on the paper mache.

Do you hear me?

On a good note, I'll get to knit on a sock while at the event.
On a bad note, I'll probably spontaneously combust on the sidewalk.

It's damn hot, ya'll. I have no analogy. It's just damn hot.

May the winter be equally cold.

Oh, shut up, I hate hot weather. Winter at least will mean I can have a nice hot fire in the fireplace and homemade veggie soup and curled up kitties and snow penguins and my Todd to keep me warm.

Plus, I won't spontaneously combust on the sidewalk.

On a side note, I'm still thinking Art Tart might be the new name of the blog seeing as how I'm about whatever I happen to be working on at the time.
On another note, I am missing the paper mache so much it hurts. I swear the masks are calling out to me in little pitiful voices to finish them.

I better get this job for all this trouble.

Just to add to that last statement, I better get this job before my co-worker dies screaming. Don't ask. Just know that if I don't get this job, I'll be dangerously close to grabbing my boss, banging her head on the desk, and screaming, "SHARE A CUBE WITH PAIN! SHARE A CUBE WITH PAIN"

Like I said, don't ask. Better you don't know.

Also, in keeping with the randomness of this entry, despite the paper mache in the next month or so you'll be seeing some crochet. My sister-in-law requested a shawl for her birthday which is the first week of November. Shawls don't take me long, but considering what all I'm into right now, I better start soon.

Mimi mentioned something in the comments of her blog of me making a mask for my new niece. That's an interesting idea. Allison, her big sister by what-will-be three and half years, would definitely need a butterfly, because she flutters by. (Oh, shut up, she's my niece, I can say it if I want.) Her sister, the soon-to-be Natalie...I'll have to meet her first. She's been rather quiet in the womb which leads us to believe she'll be the devious one.

I think we'll get along fine.

I feel bad, though. When Allison was born, I made her a hooded cape thing. I have no time to do that for Natalie. My brother mentioned my making a blanket a while back, which was surprising considering Allison acquired tons of blankets. I might make them each a blanket for Christmas.

Oh, my hopes of making blankets this year for everyone? Yeah. Right.

Most of them are getting masks, so that will work out some. The rest...um...well...Look! It's Fred Flintstone! Lisa-shaped dust cloud

Okay, you know, when I left the dreary depths of Southern Louisiana, my gills healed shut, so I lost the ability to breathe underwater.

Yesterday, I walked outside and felt like I was drowning. For the love of little green men, what the hell is with the humidity? It practically hits you over the head with a brick...a lot...over and over...

I miss the West where humans could breathe and your internal cooling system worked properly.

Oxygen. You never know how much you miss it until it's gone.

Okay, so I found out it's way easier to write a new paper than it is to rewrite an old one. I finished one research paper today.

Well, actually, I finished it about five minutes ago.

I'd go woo but I'm too tired. Ya'll go woo for me.

I still have the one paper to rewrite and one other to actually write, which I can do tomorrow. The rewrite will take another day or two. Fingers crossed that they don't call for an interview until later this week. I still have a new outfit to buy, too.

I could just kick myself. If I had figured all this out Friday, I could have both papers written and only be worrying over the rewrite. Bleh.

But, you know what? I am not going to give up. I am made for this job, and I am going to do what it takes to get it.

You think they'd hire me if I baked them a cake? A chocolate cake?

I also I have a feeling I will be making a stop at my favorite piano bar before the week is out.


God, I'm missing the paper mache.

I have to get these research papers rewritten and a third actually written.

I'm not allowed to do any paper mache or fiber arts until they're done.

I...I...have writers block.

Let me repeat that: I. Am. Not. Allowed. To. Do. Any. Paper. Mache. Until. They. Are. Done.

Will you please excuse me while I stab pencils in my eyes and set myself on fire.

I have been trying for days to just rewrite a paper and I'm stuck! Stuck! You wouldn't think that would happen with a paper that's already written, but there you go.

I am in such withdrawal I'm willing to sneak downstairs when Todd isn't looking and sand. Yes, you heard me, SAND. (Todd's my Watcher. He keeps me on the straight and narrow. He knows I'm not allowed to do anything Fun until I finish these papers.) I wish they'd call me for a job interview and put me out of my misery. I want and will get that job, dammit, but I need my paper mache. I need it!

All this because they want examples that are proof I have experience writing research papers. I have an ENGLISH DEGREE! What the hell else do you think I was allowed to do? Underwater Basket Weaving? Lord, the last two friggin' years were book reports and research papers! At one point, I had a history prof tell us he was sick of normal book report papers and wanted us to "dress them up". I wrote them all as poems told from the point of view of a women being taught the point of the stories by a monster made up of all the myths in the world. I was short two credits of graduating and wrote a 25 page monstrosity on the portrayal of feminine evil in literature that ruled my life for three damn months to get those credits. Ya'll. Writing is what I did. I had to write. A lot!

Dammit.

I should be exempt from proving myself capable of writing research just from the degree I bear. But, nooooooo, they want proof. They want proof from when I was in school, and my proof needs to be reworked because it's, well, let's just say I don't want to lose the job because someone had an issue with something I said in a paper. (Not that they're supposed to be looking at that, but the world is a funny place.) I need to make them a little more, shall we say, boring. I'm all for stirring up the pot, but not when it loses me a ten grand a year raise.

Right now, right beside me is my third glass of wine. I may have to switch to vodka and Dr. Pepper next.

You know what's going to happen, right? I'm going to do all of this and hand them these papers and they're just going to look at them, flip through them, then hand them back to me with an affirmation that it does indeed prove I can do what I can do. They won't read them only because I'm going through all this trouble.

You know it's true.

I'm going to have to not bang my head upon the table when that happens, but you can be as certain as sailors wishing that had mouths as bad as mine that I will vent about it here.

I will get this job.

I WILL!

Okay, it looks like Blogger is working for the moment.

I can finally post some pictures of my current projects. I warn you, they are not photogenic because they are not finished. I also ask you excuse the dimness of the pictures. As I've said, I've had a lot of trouble with technology this week, including the digital camera.

Anyway, here we go...

This is a sun mask I'm making for a friend. Actually, it was an experiment that she happened to see on the table. Her eyes got big and she said, "Oooooh!" So, of course, she had to have it. (We are making a trade, though. Her homemade cordial for a sun mask. A fair trade, I say.)

The discoloration at the bottom of the mask is from sanding. It's actually covered in gesso and will be sanded one last time before I gesso it again and paint it. I wanted a really smooth finish for this one. It will be, of course, a stick mask, and I hope it will eventually have some gold and copper leafing on it.

The next one is a commission from an SCA friend. Her heraldic animal on her device is a rabbit and she wanted a simple stick mask with a bunny. So, here you go.

Man, that rabbit gave me fits for two weeks. I carved it out of clay four times attempting each time to make a mold of it. The fourth time barely worked since the paper pulp didn't want to come out of it, but it was enough for me to fix it and get the look I wanted that I couldn't have done without a mold. At least not easily.

This is that Fast Mache stuff. It's wonderful, guys. Seriously. Notice it's realatively smooth. It took some touching up, but that wasn't as bad as using the regular pulp. Granted, the regular pulp has its uses, but for this, it's Fast Mache all the way. That stuff loves molds. (Almost too much.)

Her husband wanted a raven for his mask. (I'm getting gorgeous dresses for these.)

Funnily enough, it was the stylized crown of "feathers" around the head that was the hardest. I could not figure out how I wanted them to look. I ended up just slapping something on it and carving and shaping and adding until it got more to what I was hoping for. I'm going to try to attach the stick to this one at the end of a raven's claw. We'll see if that works or not.

This last one is a goblin mask that I'm working on as an experiment. you will notice it's sitting on the plaster cast of my face. This will be my first fitted mask. I have commissions for four other masks after this and they are all fitted. I'm trying to get that skill worked out.

Yeah, he's looking a little rough, but I just added the ears not to long ago, and literally just stuck them on there so I had an idea how they looked before I started refining them. This one is a little harder to see on the white plaster casting, but it'll look better after it's finished and painted. I'm not thinking I'm going to sand this one. Goblins should look rough, I think.

So, there you have it. Pictures. Finally. Granted, it's not much, but I have found that I can work on exactly four decent-sized projects before I start having to neglect one. After this batch, there will be four more. I can, and will, add a small candleholder project, but I can literally put it together in one day. Let it dry another day. Paint it another day. It's going to match another candleholder I had given to Todd. Other than that, I have to stick with just these four.

The problem is, I'm down to sanding now - except for the goblin - which is about as boring as it gets. Oh, well, I suffer for our art.

I'm hoping to work on them this weekend. We'll see how the research paper goes.

I'll put up more pics as they progress.

Yes, I will.

Oh, don't give me that look. I will, too.

Eventually.

Mimi Mittens is back! And, she's got mittens! And, fluffy animals doing adorable things that just make you sick!

Ya'll go give her some love!

You guys are NOT going to believe this. I've spent the last thirty minutes trying to post pictures and Blogger accepted two then refused to accept any more.

What the hell? Is it a conspiracy now that I'm not allowed to post pics?

Blech.

I'm going to bed.

Okay, I have pictures.

Really. I do.

Yes, I do.

Do, too!

Oh, shut up.

Anyway, I have pictures.

But, the computer that has the nice little card slot from which to extract said pictures is currently being used as a geek machine. (Todd's playing D&D Online.)

If I can't get them up tonight, it's his fault.

Don't look at me like that.

It's not like they're good pictures anyway because all the paper mache stuff is white because it's, well, white paper pulp, so it's not exactly photogenic...

Do I get points for trying?

I know, I know, I've said it before. But, tomorrow, I hope to have pictures up of my current projects, including examples of the cool ceramic molds I got from my friend. (Man, was that an adventure. She had about five thousand of them. I could have opened my own shop. Problem is, I can only store so many and some of them were rather, well, foo-foo. I don't do foo-foo. She tried very hard to get me to take all of them. I had to break it to her that I couldn't, but I'm going to make some phone calls. The Art Center does ceramic classes some times. I bet they'd love a room full of free molds.)

There will be pictures.

Then, there will probably be some silence as I write two research papers.

Afterwards, I'll probably curl into a little ball and cry for a while before I have to get back to the paper mache. (Haven't really done much this last week or so. The reason is it's time to start sanding things, and I hate sanding things. Oh, well, gotta take the bad with the good.)

UPDATE JULY 10: Or not. I sort of lost track of things in the middle of research, computer issues, and hoping all to hell Italy pummels France in the World Cup. (With the kind of display Zidane put on, I would have been some kind of pissed if France had won. I don't abide bad sportsmanship. It's why I can't hardly watch the Olympics anymore. Hell, I watch VERY FEW sports, but when I do sit down to watch them, I expect the athletes to conduct themselves in a sportsman-like manner, at least to some extent. Dammit.) I will try to get some pictures up Tuesday as I won't be home Monday. Sorry, folks.

You know.

That thing.

The thing that someone can do to a piece that took weeks if not months of your life to complete.

It's that atrocity they commit after you decide you're going to use Real Yarn and not the nasty acrylic stuff. You know, you find that pile of gorgeous cotton fleece in the yarn shop and run and hug it tightly like it's a long lost child and decide that it is the yarn that will make someone very happy. It's that thing that happens after you take that gorgeous, lovely yarn and turn it into a masterpiece of love and affection.

You know the thing.

Don't make me say it.

Okay, fine, I'll say it, but don't say I didn't warn you.

You spend weeks of your life crocheting something lovely out of equally lovely yarn, and you get it to the intended person, then someone comes along and...and...SHRINKS IT!

I'll pause so you can recover.

Ya'll remember the Baby Blanket, right? Surely you didn't forget it. I didn't it. In fact, it fills me with all kinds of warm fuzzies to meet my friend at Barnes and Noble and find she's got the baby wrapped in it. I love my friend, and I love that she loves the Blanket. I love the baby every time he spits up on it.

I may have to destroy his father, however.

Yeah, he shrank it. He put it in the washer, and then, because he's apparently cruel, he put it in the drier. Not only did he put it in the drier, but he put it in the drier with other blankets so not only has it shrunk, but it's covered in fuzzy bits. Being crochet, it shrunk from side-to-side more than from top-to-bottom, so now it's more like a wrap...covered in multi-colored fuzzies.

It's only because he's a wonderful human being, a fantastic husband, and an unbelievable dad that I have not knitted his head to the carpet. My friend said she did a great deal of growling at him and stuff, so that helps.

However, next time I make something for them, I'm going to embroider on it in big, red letters, "NO TOUCHY! NO WASHY!" just for him.

Just so he doesn't forget.

I like him. I don't want to have to stuff him in the blender because he shrunk a lace shawl or something. That would hurt me worse than it would hurt him. Maybe. Perhaps. I'd at least try to not cackle.

-------

Note: Freddi, you know I jest, right? I wouldn't kill your husband for shrinking a lace shawl or something. I'd let you do that. :-) Love you guys!

Can you feel the excitement? You should. I'm so excited I can't hardly be in the same room with myself.

A little back story:

I have an English degree. The reason I have an English degree is because, well, I'm a geek who tried science and found she wasn't good at it and who would rather ram pencils in her eyes than do math. When I graduated, my hopes were that I would get a job in the technical writing field. It's a hard field to get into, especially in the South, but I had my hopes. At the time, an English degree would do, if I could have rammed a foot in the door. Ah, there's the problem. Those opportunities don't come up often and were non-existent where I lived, but I tried. And, I failed. I ended up becoming an administrative assistant. Joy. But, still I tried. Well, another problem arose soon after. You see, when I graduated in 1998, there were very few colleges that offered a degree in technical writing, so as I mentioned, an English degree would do. Well, within three years the technical writing degree program began to spread to colleges across the country, except, of course, my alma mater. It didn't matter, because about that point, I had moved to Arkansas to help my mother out, landing in yet another administrative job. Unfortunately, the need to keep a roof over my head and help my family kept me in such jobs long enough that I'm practically pigeon-holed; it's been very hard for me to get out. And, let me tell you, the frustration has been immense. Having an elephant sit in the middle of the interstate during rush hour would be minor inconvenience in comparison. Despite that, I still had hopes. However, since practically every college has a technical writing degree program now, it's a technical writing degree they want.

Not that it makes it any easier to get a technical writing job.

But, still, I had hopes. Or, at least, I had the distinct impression I was probably going back to school soon because it's that or kill one of my coworkers for being a blatant hag.

But, light, my friends, has burst through the clouds!

A technical writing job has opened up at work. An ENTRY LEVEL technical writing job that is a $10,000 a year pay raise has opened up at work. An entry level tehcnical writing job that is a major pay raise that I couldn't be more qualified for if I already had the job.

These are the minimum job requirements:

College degree, must have experience writing research papers (examples will be requested)
Two years experience in Microsoft Word.

Ya'll...I mean, seriously...you don't know how badly I want to call HR and say, "I have an English degree. The only thing I was allowed to do was research papers!"

I also have a score of 100% on my Microsoft Word tests.

The problem is giving the research examples. I have my papers, but they're...controversial. Now, I know that they are supposed to be going for the skill here, but you know, my luck hasn't been great in the job arena, and it would be my luck they'd use the subjects as an excuse to call me a trouble maker and not hire me. So, I'm debating not bothering with my previous papers. It's been a while anyway. I'm thinking I'm just going to write a couple of papers and hand it to them so they at least know I still have the skill despite having graduated eight years ago.

The problem has been topics. I watched "Rikki Tikki Tavi" the other night and thought mongooses would be a good topic. Then, yesterday, I thought bird flu might work. A friend suggested the Spanish Inquisition.

So, although I know I've been rather quiet at ye old blog lately, I'm about to become a little quieter until I at least get these papers finished. It might be weeks before they call for an interview, or it might be days. I can't risk being caught empty-handed.

I have never wanted a job so badly in all my life.

So, cross some fingers and toes for me. I'll let ya'll know how things progress.


I'm really liking Art Tart.


And, I don't know if the sweet Mimi Mittens was chased off of the blogosphere by some unscrupulous internet-trolling swine, but if that was the case, consider your ass on the hit list, buddy. However, if Mimi had something happen in the real world, I'm very sorry and hope everything goes okay and hope you find comfort in family and friends, including your blog pals. I hope to still see you around and that maybe one day you'll reconsider joining us again. Take care!