bleh. lately i’ve been in this perpetual mood where nothing makes sense and i no longer even have the energy to question why. as a kid growing up, you have these big visions and dreams of how things will change and what life will be like once you reach “adulthood.” and then you get there and you can’t help but shake your head in disbelief, realizing that it’s not all it’s cracked up to be, and feeling like you’ve been had… duped… the victim of a cruel hoax! i guess the old folks weren’t bullshitting when they’d try to assuage me with, “you’ll understand when you’re older.” or “just wait ’til you’re actually there.”
what we really come to understand is that regardless of who we work for or how we dress or where we hang out, we’re all just laying our own heads down at night, filled with personal dramas and individual tragedies. and you can think that you know what life’s like for someone else, but all we really know is that it’s different for all of us. then on top of that mental shit, there’s an entire world of sufferers out there with greater, “real”er problems than that, and you can’t help but feel guilt. i mean, who am i to cry about my social anxiety every day when there are people that are a 2-minute walk away from my front door who have no home, or a 12-hour plane ride away who are victims of the devastating earthquake? situations like the ones in japan and libya and haiti and chile and wherever else snatch you right out of that little bubble world where you’re president, and bring you right back to reality—the reality where you’re just a scratch on the surface, a cog in the machine that is the universe. kind of scary, kind of sad, but ultimately just confusing—though i’d say these thoughts might be typical for the standard early 20-something. then again, i wouldn’t exactly call myself standard, either…
i need that little jolt of inspiration again. i need some excitement, some uncertainty, something new. like back when i was small and i could only hope and dream and imagine about who i’d become instead of feeling like i’d seen all there is to a stale world. but i’m feeling like this might be part of the reason i still feel like such a little girl. i’m still in shock and disbelief that this is all there is to my adulthood, almost like i’m rebelling against “growing up” until my dream life makes itself known. but i’m still young, and just around the corner is a whole new season ahead of me to get back into the groove of shit and work towards that dream life, so i refuse to fret. what’s the best way to wake your senses and get out of a mental/emotional slump, huh? vacation? juice fast? haircut? seriously, i appreciate any input—months of indecisive weather and condensed kreplach have finally taken their toll on me!
so, last friday i followed up with hr chick, as instructed by maryse and anna, and ended up leaving her a voicemail. half an hour later, i get a rejection email that the position had been filled internally four days prior, though at the time of our phone conversation, i was the number one candidate. dang. second place, yet again. why would they promise me a face-to-face meeting then screw me over without a timely explanation? if i hadn’t followed up with them, i’m 98% sure they would’ve left me twittling my thumbs indefinitely, which really bothers me because hr chick knew that my spring semester schedule could potentially be affected by whether or not an offer would be made (i would’ve had to remove or reschedule one class, which i was okay with, and told her as much), so i couldn’t be left in the dark.
this was my response:
1/28/11
Dear ________,
Thank you for your response. After careful consideration, I regret to inform you that I am unable to accept your refusal to offer me employment at ______ Studios.
This year, I have been particularly fortunate in receiving an unusually large number of rejection letters. With such a varied and promising field of candidates available, it is impossible for me to accept all refusals.
I certainly appreciate the time, skill and creativity invested in submitting your letter of rejection. Despite your outstanding qualifications and likely having previous experience in rejecting many quality applicants, I find that your rejection does not meet my needs at this time.
Therefore, I will initiate employment with your establishment on Monday of the following week (2/7/11). Please arrange the appropriate details with your Human Resources department and Accounting teams. I look forward to being a part of the ______ Studios staff. See you then!
Best of luck in rejecting future candidates.
Sincerely,
Mari
KIDDING. i sure was tempted to send that, though.
looks like it’s back to the grind for me. hr chick said she’s keeping my name at the top of the list of candidates for upcoming opportunities. that’s sweet of her, but i’m done holding my breath with these people. i’m already red in the face from this last merry-go-round she spun me on.
****
in other news, i’ve decided to take a break from this blog for a little while. actually, i’m taking a break from socializing on the internet, period. i deleted my facebook, deactivated a couple forum accounts, and twitter’s next. nothing particularly horrible or traumatizing has happened (more like the amalgamation of minor annoyances and incidents that have spiked my anxiety levels), i’m just in a weird limbo state right now and i haven’t been compelled to share much. i think between planning to transfer schools, having shit luck finding a job, pets dying, siblings moving, and everything in between, i just have no energy to intelligently and coherently interact with the e-population the way i would like to. most of all, i don’t want to purge all of my negative thoughts into this blog, have it become a huge bitchfest, and rename it “one maxi pad.”
this isn’t the end, guys and dolls. to quote john q, “it’s not goodbye, it’s see you later.”
as much as i despise so many facets of our monetary/class system (no, i’m not a “commie” or a marxist) and corporate politics, i sure do miss working for the man and makin’ decent dough. i hate taking money from my dad and brothers, and can’t help but spend every cent with immense guilt and regret. this job search is really taking a lot out of me, but i’m in no position to take a break from it. i’ve almost completely convinced myself that one of my past employers added my name to some sort of underground blacklist that every human resources manager has access to. this shit’s getting a little (a lot) ridiculous.
i had a phone interview with one of the human resources chicks at the major i mentioned before. we played voicemail tag for 24 hours before we finally got ahold of one another. at 8:45am, oy. i wasn’t even awake yet, so i sounded like an adult bullfrog in labor (mind you, when i’m fully awake i sound like a dying tadpole, so not too much better…), but she seemed to dig me, and to be caught off-guard and half-asleep, i don’t think i was too shabby. she told me i was “great” and that her superior would email me “soon” to schedule a face-to-face meeting. she even gave me her superior’s full name and phone number, so i really thought i had this shit in the bag.
…but that was a week ago.
and as of yesterday, the job opening has been removed from their website.
sigh.
what is “soon,” hr chick?! did you give my dream job to someone else? should i harass your boss and demand a crystal clear answer?
i’m trying not to freak out and over-analyze last week’s conversation (even though i’ve already done that at least 547 times over the past 7 days) and the meaning behind the mysterious disappearance of the job posting, because homegirl is the head of the human resources department at one of the top film and television studios in the world, and i’m sure she has more important things to tend to than entry-level employment requisitions… but i’m bummin’ out, guys. i really, really want this job. a hundred times more than any of the others i applied to. usually, i’m able to stop myself from developing relationships with certain positions, but this job and i, we’re made for one another. it’s mine. and now i’m left feeling like i’ve been stood up on prom night. guess it’s back to the drawing board for me.
congrats, influenza! you have successfully managed to infect my entire immediate family over the last two weeks! grrrrrr. i’m in the final stages of my near-fatal (imo) illness, but i did manage to accomplish some of my goals. emphasis on some.
→ i honestly didn’t even attempt to wake up early. however, i did manage to get to sleep at around 12-1am every night. i still woke up 12 hours later, though — and that’s with a nap earlier in the day! i swear, i’m a puppy. i can sleep 14+ hours a day, no problem. i’ve gotta get this in check, though. one of my job prospects requires me to be up ‘n at ‘em by 6am. i’m not even sure when these eyes last saw the world at 6am.
→ speaking of job prospects, i got a call back today from one of the majors (brb, shaking&crying) about a potential job. let’s all cross our fingers and toes that i will soon be able to strike “find a job” off my list of things to do.
→ i actually haven’t eaten any jewish soup this week, which is unheard of. i literally survive off of cookies, cheese toast, lentil soup, potato kreplach, and chicken matzo ball soup.
→ you will be proud to hear that i’ve only called one person a dickface in the past 8 days. and that dickface deserved it.
→ sadly, i didn’t grow any balls. i take that back, i think one of my testes dropped last night during an altercation. but, i ran into an undesirable person at the movies the other day, and even though i wanted to express to him how angry he makes me, i ended up spending 10 minutes idly chatting with him about the current state of the film industry without saying a single word about how i felt and hating myself for having the worst level of confidence in the world. sure, i can write a 20 page letter telling you how much i can’t stand your actions, but tell you in person? WHAT?! no thanks. let’s just hug it out… please?
some new goals:
→ quit being adorable and/or charming, you attract too many people that way, and that’s the last thing you need right now.
→ do not have any social outings that require you to take out your wallet and save what little money you have so that you and your pets won’t starve to death. actually, don’t go out at all, because going out requires driving your car (since you haven’t quite learned how to ride your bike!) and driving your car means giving british petroleum 3 and a half dollars to the gallon. you can’t afford it so don’t do it!!
→ sincerely practice verbally and articulately expressing yourself to the right people.
→ take into consideration actually replying to the craigslist ads under the “adult gigs” section. you could get easy cash just by selling your used underwear, peeing on people, watching pornos with creeps, and so on. (kidding, guys, kidding!)
→ go to bed before 3am.
→ get out of bed before 1pm.
→ only eat one bowl of condensed jewish soup a day.
→ grow some balls.
→ minimize use of the word “asshat.”
→ minimize annoyance towards the asshats i encounter.
→ stop daydreaming about how things could be and work on actually making it happen.
→ master “smooth criminal” on michael jackson the experience.
→ punch every assha– oh, sorry.
→ do some serious meditating.
→ start sketching again.
→ GET MORE JOB LEADS.
but how do i expect myself to accomplish any of these goals when i can’t even bring myself to stop watching this video on repeat?
when i was a kid, i remember the adults around me incessantly complaining about how quickly time flies, but i’ve honestly never really understood their bitching ’til now. this year has completely sped past me, and now that i’m realizing that time never stops — no matter how many pauses i take to procrastinate and dick around — i’m scared out of my mind! but what can you do? it’s somehow already december 31st, and even though my mind has barely caught up with the last few months, it’s literally now or never to begin preparing for what lies ahead in 2011.
yep, it’s that time of year again. the time where many folks make pacts with themselves to resolve a situation in the coming year. i’ve never been big on new year’s resolutions. i used to make promises of grand self-improvement and sacrifice and responsibility to myself on the first of every year, but i would never follow through with them. so, instead of exercising my willpower, working on my need for instant gratification, and destroying my commitment-phobia, i just decided to stop making resolutions, period. they only managed to make me depressed by how much i failed to accomplish the previous year.
i am, however, a fan of bucket lists. maybe it was the 2007 film starring jack and morgan that sparked my interest, or that mtv show the buried life. either way, i’m making a bucket list for 2011. not really resolutions, but one-off accomplishments, adventures and milestones to look forward to in the coming year. my bucket list is 47 bullets long (so far), but here are 10 of the things i’ll be crossing off in 2011:
1. making a short film.
2. going swing dancing.
3. applying for transfer to a real film school.
4. completing p90x!
5. getting a tattoo.
6. getting an industrial piercing.
7. posting a new photo on facebook.
8. taking a vacation outside of california.
9. writing a snail mail letter.
10. going to a bar for the first time.
what are your plans for 2011? anyone making any resolutions, goals, or bucket lists?
i’ve been a fan of mtv’s true life since day one. sure, there have been instances where the show has come across as a softcore exploitation of the subjects involved, but it’s no doubt one of the realest reality shows the channel has ever produced. sometimes the episodes are tough for me to sit through, especially when the topic deals with body image issues, decaying relationships, jealousy, and/or insecurity — it just hits too close to home. but, even though i lack the emotional capacity to get through some of the topics, i always get sucked in. as fun as the scripted fuckery is, nothing is quite as fascinating as reality, and as a true voyeur, i live for these types of shows.
if you’ve never watched (or even heard of) true life, it’s an hour-long documentary series that follows the lives of 2 or 3 young people per episode. each episode focuses on a particular topic, i.e. true life: i’m broke, true life: i live in a brothel, true life: i’m in an interracial relationship, etc. anyway, i was channel surfing the other day, and there was a true life marathon on mtv. the episode i happened upon was true life: i hate my face. though i had seen the episode when it premiered a few months ago, my interest was piqued enough to continue watching. this particular episode focused on two girls who suffer from a condition called body dysmorphic disorder, which essentially means (and i’m putting this very simply) that sufferers have a negative obsession over a part (or parts) of their body. in the cases of the two girls, neither could stand their faces — more specifically, their nose and chin. i remember the first time i watched the episode, i was at a friend’s house. throughout the entire episode, he was absolutely beside himself.
she’s so hot, how could she say that about herself?
but she’s rich and cute! what does she have to complain about?
this girl is a model?! she’s got to be shitting me.
if you haven’t noticed, this post marked the first and only time i posted a photo of myself on this blog (an adult photo, anyway). there’s honestly no real reason for that outside of my never-ending self-image issues.
i can remember disliking my appearance as young as five or six years old. i would cry to my mom, telling her that i wasn’t cute enough to go to school. that everyone would either shriek in horror or laugh at my ugly face. i even told her — at six years old! — that i “needed” a nosejob in order to be presentable. i would often watch both william dieterle and disney’s interpretations of the hunchback of notre dame, because i identified with quasimodo — the sensitive, isolated soul with a grossly disfigured face. there was even a period in elementary school that lasted about a year or so where i convinced myself i was a special little martian monster sent down on a mission from from mars (whoa, check out that alliteration), and that was the reason my face was so different and distorted compared to everyone else’s (imagine my surprise when i saw martian child for the first time). it was silly, but the thought gave me comfort at the time.
i know some of you instantly thought, dude, you’ve hated your looks since you were five?! the people around you must’ve done some serious emotional damage when you were a child. but in all honesty, i was called cute, adorable, and beautiful fairly regularly, especially by my parents and brothers. if my self-esteem was a true and honest representation of what they thought of me, i’d have the confidence of kanye west! bdd isn’t always the result of an external influence, though. i don’t believe anyone has ever insulted my face (at least not to my face… my body, though, is a whole other story entirely). i guess whatever wires in my brain that cause self-confidence were criss-crossed at birth or during my early years. later on in life, i think the lack of representation of people who looked like me in the media really toyed with my self-perception.
in 10th grade, i discovered the world of fashion and used my personal style as a form of artillery against my disorder. i would put together elaborate outfits, especially outfits that emphasized the waist on down (as far from my head as possible, please!), to draw atttention away from my face. of course people assumed i was superficial and really into myself because i cared so much about what i wore. oh, how little they knew. you’d be surprised by how many people who are absorbed in fashion and personal aesthetics have some form of body dysmorphia, whether severe or acute. it’s the perfect outlet — not only does it make for a good distraction, but it also gives off a phony yet convincing sense of self-confidence.
sadly, bdd is a condition that’s often horribly misunderstood and the severity is usually undermined and dismissed as glorified narcissism. countless times i’ve been accused of simply seeking attention and “fishing for compliments” by criticizing and being deeply self-concious of parts of my face and body. that couldn’t be farther from the truth! take it from someone who lives with it every single day: it can definitely be mentally crippling and emotionally exhausting — and it’s a lot more complicated than a simple behavioral or ego issue. honestly, no matter how often someone calls me “cute” or “beautiful,” i don’t see it myself. body dysmorphia has nothing to do with how other people see you — it’s about how those affected see themselves. i couldn’t care less if joe the plumber thinks i’m hot. and to be honest with you, most of the time, compliments hurt more than they help. i can’t tell you how many times i’ve gone to bed crying or how many temper tantrums i’ve thrown because of how impossible it seems for me to view myself through the same lenses as the people who think i’m attractive. it makes me feel like a total loon. the accusations of attention-seeking only add salt (and hot sauce. and chipotle peppers. and acid.) to the wound. i’m learning to keep my negative thoughts to myself, though, because not only do i hate the way i feel, i hate the way i make the people around me feel. at my worst, i’m a neurotic and paranoid, walking, talking bundle of self-deprecation.
after watching the premiere of true life: i hate my face, i confided in that friend about my bdd. part of his response was, “omg, but you’re so cute, though. if you think you look monstrous, i wonder what you think of me!” don’t worry, non-sufferers, we hardly think about your looks. something a lot of folks don’t realize is that suffering from bdd leads to an existence that’s not only isolated (i’m naturally a shrinking violet, but this condition makes my bashful/socially anxious disposition a million times worse), but very self-centered. of course there are several incarnations and manifestations of bdd, but i think it would be safe for me to say that for the most part, people living with bdd don’t care about anyone else’s looks. i live in my own little world that’s so meticulously controlled by my mental and emotional imbalances that i don’t have the energy or motivation to hyperfocus on certain people, yet i feel that the world is hyperfocused on me and my self-imposed imperfections.
i realize that for people suffering from intense, physical illnesses, like cancer and aids, that some middle-class girl in los angeles crying about how ugly she is seems like a steaming fart in the face. but, imagine going through life denying an integral part of who you are (sure, some people say we shouldn’t give a fuck about what we look like, but face it — your face, your body, your physical presence, whether you’ve decided to accept/change it or not, is a part of your identity) and having to come to terms with the amount of patience and effort it takes to stop the debilitating cycle of negative thoughts, all the while feeling like it will never end. it’s one thing to have a medical issue that’s completely out of your hands (not that i’m minimizing the trauma of physical illness!!), but to suffer from a condition that you know you have the ability to control with the right tools and frame of mind is really a blow to the head. i can’t even begin to tell you guys how difficult it is to get to the nucleus of deep-rooted shit like this.
fortunately, thanks to healthy doses of therapy, exhaustion (aka being too tired to care), and just plain growing up, my body dysmorphia has lessened to a more manageable degree. growing up means more responsibilities and more responsiblities means constant focus on matters outside of my face and body. i’m relieved to say that i can now walk outside without impulsively reaching for a brimmed cap in an attempt to shield my mug. i’ve stopped spending so much time pinching at my nose and belly fat. i no longer obsessively research plastic surgeons and the procedures involved in cosmetic reconstruction. and i can’t wait for the day where i can publicly post a photo of myself without having to huff and puff into a proverbial paper bag to ease my anxiety. it’s not easy, but i’m getting there.
…slowly…
…okay, very slowly!
if you’re interested in watching the full episode of true life: i hate my face, i’ve embedded it below. be warned, though — one of the girls is not very likeable and tends to blame her laziness and selfish behavior on her body dysmorphia (it’s not likely for bdd to hinder you from performing household chores, pamela!). check it out, and be sure to watch with an open mind!
i feel you, marcia.
as fun as the scripted fuckery is, nothing is quite as fascinating as reality, and as a true voyeur, i live for these types of shows.
