I'm of the school of thought that being a good talker requires one to be a good listener; I'm pretty confident I've always been both, but perception is a very subjective thing.
When my parents convinced me to forego the glory of Ivy League academics--in all fairness, my grades played a part, too--I was left with a single option: City University of New York.
I'd achieved the minimum SAT score to gain entrance to the CUNY school of my choice, a feat unbelieved by the college counselor who told me I'd "be better off aiming for the realistic options offered by trade schools like Chubb Institute and Devry." Not many bigger buzz kills than being told you're only fit to enter the highly intellectual world of the free toolbox mafia.
I settled on Brooklyn College because I was resigned to living at home with my parents until an undetermined date. On the day of my orientation, the incoming freshman were feted by the department chairs, who were all decked out in absurd Hogwartian robes, sashes, and, most ridiculous of all, an organ player fumbling his way through Pomp & Circumstance to an auditorium full of denim-clad post-high schoolers.
Later, we made our way out to the quad to sample the club offerings of BC. Almost without any hesitation, I gravitated to the table for WBCR, the college radio station. A club spokesperson mentioned the need for new blood, so I signed up right away.
The station became my home for the next 3.5 years. I met my first real girlfriend there. I learned how to not be afraid to talk. More importantly, I learned how to listen.
Flash forward to 2004, when I was heartbeat away from homelessness, crashing on the bedbug-infested couch of my former boss, a gay opera singer named Jonathan. One night, during one of many nights of wanton disregard for common decency brought on by consumption of illicit substances, Jonathan said, "You used to be a good listener, but now you're as good as deaf." I guess I didn't realize it at the time, but he was absolutely correct. One of my more prized attributes had been jettisoned from my body, a heavy price for placing faith in Alexei vodka and generic Robitussin.
I think I've changed quite a bit since then. In the course of regaining my sense of self, I realized that I could finally be a good listener again. Stupid, I know. But what some people have to say to me--the good, bad, and ugly--means everything to me. I don't always have the answers, but I always have a pair of ears and an open heart for anyone needing to unburden themselves.
Friday, August 12, 2011
Monday, June 27, 2011
This morning, I saw a TV ad for the diabetes drug my company creates advertisements for. It didn't really hit me at first, but I later realized that I edited the copy for that ad. In my 10+ year work history, I had so little to be proud of, so little to show for my hard work. Well, sometimes I didn't work very hard at all, which is probably why those jobs fall under the category of "former employment." Maybe it's time I did a series of blogs about my past jobs. Hmmm.
Went to the park in Brooklyn yesterday with wife, baby, sister, and niece. Other niece did not show up, opting instead to flake at the last minute. I love my niece and I try to be patient with her, but she's very prone to throwing a wrench into everyone's plans by foregoing her social obligations, with nary a phone call or email to give a heads-up. Love her to death, but she drives me fucking insane.
In other news, WE HAVE BED BUGS. Oh no!!!! Actually, it turns out that bed bugs aren't quite the skin-piercing, blood sucking scourge the media make them out to be. They're also not impossible to kill. If you have or suspect you have bed bugs, you need to hire a good exterminator who deals with bed bugs, not just roaches and other lovelies. Peace of mind comes at a cost, but it's well worth it. Pursuant to the exterminator's directives, we're currently living out of giant zip lock bags, a direct consequence of our "issue." We look a bit like hoarders, but well-organized hoarders at that!
Went to the park in Brooklyn yesterday with wife, baby, sister, and niece. Other niece did not show up, opting instead to flake at the last minute. I love my niece and I try to be patient with her, but she's very prone to throwing a wrench into everyone's plans by foregoing her social obligations, with nary a phone call or email to give a heads-up. Love her to death, but she drives me fucking insane.
In other news, WE HAVE BED BUGS. Oh no!!!! Actually, it turns out that bed bugs aren't quite the skin-piercing, blood sucking scourge the media make them out to be. They're also not impossible to kill. If you have or suspect you have bed bugs, you need to hire a good exterminator who deals with bed bugs, not just roaches and other lovelies. Peace of mind comes at a cost, but it's well worth it. Pursuant to the exterminator's directives, we're currently living out of giant zip lock bags, a direct consequence of our "issue." We look a bit like hoarders, but well-organized hoarders at that!
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Money for nothing
Speaking with the best friend on the phone last night, I lamented that while unemployment liberates one from the ball and chain of corporate tyranny, it ain't all it's cracked up to be. My friend is currently living in Colombia with his wife, trying hard to get his import/export business up and running. All kinds of obstacles such as free trade agreements, hostile locals, and lack of capital are conspiring to prevent this venture from seeing the light of day. Having suffered through many subpar jobs in my lifetime, I can honestly say that I'm grateful to have the job I have today. Still, I get a little green with envy when I encounter people who are unemployed and NOT dead broke. A little sound financial planning allows for such an arrangement. Sadly, I suck at financial planning.
On the subject of work, my annual review is coming up very soon. I haven't had an actual review in almost 2 years because my last boss (HR job) booked it for Texas right before I was to begin the review process. If I learned one thing in HR it's that recognition is paramount to nurturing and retaining good employees. Here's to hoping that I can continue down the path toward becoming a better editor—and a well-compensated one at that!
On the subject of work, my annual review is coming up very soon. I haven't had an actual review in almost 2 years because my last boss (HR job) booked it for Texas right before I was to begin the review process. If I learned one thing in HR it's that recognition is paramount to nurturing and retaining good employees. Here's to hoping that I can continue down the path toward becoming a better editor—and a well-compensated one at that!
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Out to lunch
I spent nearly 4 hours at work yesterday revising a copywriter's botched reference citations. I'd be less bothered by it if the copywriter in question wasn't a bitch to me on a few different occasions. She definitely outdid herself last week when she showed up at my desk looking for me. I was seated a few cubicles away, doing a spellcheck. I overheard her ask my colleague if she knew where I was. My colleague told her that I was around, just not at my desk. Then, the copywriter said to no one in particular, "He's the only editor I know who's never at his desk."
Really?
I mean, exactly how many times has she visited my desk to draw such a conclusion? Anyway, you gotta love people who deflect their own personal frustrations and try and turn shit around on you. The way I see it, if you're going to lie, at least try and be somewhat believable and fib within reason. Even if I was never at my desk EVERY TIME she walked by, it's foolish fer her to assume that I'm "never" there. You know when I was at my desk, though? The 4 hours I spent yesterday fixing up her mess.
Really?
I mean, exactly how many times has she visited my desk to draw such a conclusion? Anyway, you gotta love people who deflect their own personal frustrations and try and turn shit around on you. The way I see it, if you're going to lie, at least try and be somewhat believable and fib within reason. Even if I was never at my desk EVERY TIME she walked by, it's foolish fer her to assume that I'm "never" there. You know when I was at my desk, though? The 4 hours I spent yesterday fixing up her mess.
Friday, May 13, 2011
Where my bloggers at?
Back when DiaryLand ruled the blogging landscape—I doubt if the word "blog" had been popularized as of yet—it wasn't uncommon to receive random plaudits from complete strangers who just happened to stumble upon your diary. The praise was usually short and sweet, but it reaffirmed my belief that blogs could cast a wide a net and capture an audience previously limited to those with published works in book and journals. There was even a diary-rating website that accepted submissions, reviewed blog samples and provided critical feedback. Today, I can't imagine anyone having the time to undertake such a project.
These days, most people are far too self-involved to read words written by someone else. If you charted the trajectory of blogging popularity, you'd probably see a peak in 2003, right before Myspace got REALLY popular. Pre-Myspace, blogs were the primary avenue for peers, friends, and strangers to exchange creative ideas and daily musings. Shit always gets messy when money is involved, and so I felt that blogging took a turn for the worst when it crossed the threshold from recreational activity to profession. Blogs lost their charm and became judged by not their critical and creative contribution but their ability to turn a profit. My wife, a recent mother, is an avid reader of Dooce.com, a blog written by a regular gal cum professional blogger. Dooce writes mostly about her daily trials and tribulations as a mother—and she makes a pretty penny doing so. Everyone needs a hustle, so I can't fault Dooce for taking advantage of an opportunity that allows her to be a stay-at-home mom and get paid to write. Maybe I'm just bitter because it isn't me getting paid to do what I love.
Nowadays, it's exceedingly difficult to get paid for blogging. The all of cyberspace is saturated with blogs, blogs, and more blogs. Blogging celebrities, like Dooce, have convinced everyone that they have what it takes to be a paid, professional writer. Huffington Post, Jezebel and scores of other websites offer free blogging on their sites; very few, if any, actually pay their blog contributors. The sites themselves stand to profit because they can increase their traffic and ad revenue without paying a dime for content. Sweet deal.
Who knows? Maybe blogging will experience a revival in the next few years. I'll be able to look back on this entry, laugh, and chalk it up to a moment of post-30 panic. I doubt that will happen. Sometimes, I pine for what was because I've romanticized the versions of events that exist in my memory. There's no guarantee that what was once new, fresh and exciting will feel the same way long after the novelty has worn off. For now, there's much to be content with in my present: wife, baby, and job—and they don't need a stat counter to measure their worth!
These days, most people are far too self-involved to read words written by someone else. If you charted the trajectory of blogging popularity, you'd probably see a peak in 2003, right before Myspace got REALLY popular. Pre-Myspace, blogs were the primary avenue for peers, friends, and strangers to exchange creative ideas and daily musings. Shit always gets messy when money is involved, and so I felt that blogging took a turn for the worst when it crossed the threshold from recreational activity to profession. Blogs lost their charm and became judged by not their critical and creative contribution but their ability to turn a profit. My wife, a recent mother, is an avid reader of Dooce.com, a blog written by a regular gal cum professional blogger. Dooce writes mostly about her daily trials and tribulations as a mother—and she makes a pretty penny doing so. Everyone needs a hustle, so I can't fault Dooce for taking advantage of an opportunity that allows her to be a stay-at-home mom and get paid to write. Maybe I'm just bitter because it isn't me getting paid to do what I love.
Nowadays, it's exceedingly difficult to get paid for blogging. The all of cyberspace is saturated with blogs, blogs, and more blogs. Blogging celebrities, like Dooce, have convinced everyone that they have what it takes to be a paid, professional writer. Huffington Post, Jezebel and scores of other websites offer free blogging on their sites; very few, if any, actually pay their blog contributors. The sites themselves stand to profit because they can increase their traffic and ad revenue without paying a dime for content. Sweet deal.
Who knows? Maybe blogging will experience a revival in the next few years. I'll be able to look back on this entry, laugh, and chalk it up to a moment of post-30 panic. I doubt that will happen. Sometimes, I pine for what was because I've romanticized the versions of events that exist in my memory. There's no guarantee that what was once new, fresh and exciting will feel the same way long after the novelty has worn off. For now, there's much to be content with in my present: wife, baby, and job—and they don't need a stat counter to measure their worth!
Monday, May 9, 2011
Credit
Yesterday, CapitalOne saw it fit to bestow upon me a credit card, my first in nearly 7 years. Previous to yesterday, I applied for a number of cards online over the course of nearly a decade with little more to show for my efforts than a slew of rejection emails. I truly deserved my debt since I spent recklessly with no intention of repaying my plastic advance. Actually, I knew I'd one day repay my debt. What I could not foresee was the never-ending letters from collections and lawyers threatening legal action for nonpayment. That a credit company, after all that, didn't take a chance on me is no great mystery.
When you gain some stability in life, financial or otherwise, you start to reassess your goals because they're no longer just a pipe dream. Today, I can actually entertain the thought of going back to school without becoming interminably depressed. Haley may go back to school, too, and she truly deserves that opportunity. Her initial attempts at higher education were derailed by an overbearing parent who caused school to be become for her an anxiety-laden endeavor. Now, we've begun to forge our own path and are in a better place to start doing things on our own terms.
Of course, Baby Owen complicates any ambitions to pursue academic opportunities, but not in a bad way. He's our pride and joy, and we put him before anyone and anything else. It's just nice to know that whatever we do to better ourselves (college, new job, etc.), we'll be giving Owen a better life in return.
It's nice to feel a sense of independence again.
When you gain some stability in life, financial or otherwise, you start to reassess your goals because they're no longer just a pipe dream. Today, I can actually entertain the thought of going back to school without becoming interminably depressed. Haley may go back to school, too, and she truly deserves that opportunity. Her initial attempts at higher education were derailed by an overbearing parent who caused school to be become for her an anxiety-laden endeavor. Now, we've begun to forge our own path and are in a better place to start doing things on our own terms.
Of course, Baby Owen complicates any ambitions to pursue academic opportunities, but not in a bad way. He's our pride and joy, and we put him before anyone and anything else. It's just nice to know that whatever we do to better ourselves (college, new job, etc.), we'll be giving Owen a better life in return.
It's nice to feel a sense of independence again.
Friday, May 6, 2011
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