My mind houses millions of half baked and unfiltered thoughts. My tongue selectively chooses which ones to verbally unleash in different situations. My fingertips likewise selectively elicit those heavily edited and audience conscious thoughts whose journey ends here in this silly little corner of the blogosphere. Unlike thoughts or slips of the tongue, blog posts are always within my control.
It’s easy to accidentally slip and say something you wish you could take back, but when it comes to clicking the blue “publish” button in the lower right hand corner of your screen, well that takes some deliberation. It’s usually not hard to suppress the urge. (Unless of course your particular “publish” button is more belligerent than mine.)
Sort of like “accidentally” crossing the finish line after an exhausting race, typing out unfiltered thoughts in a feverish race of the fingertips usually doesn’t end in “accidentally” publishing them for the hungry eyes of all the other insomniacs trolling the internet at 1am.
At least not for me. I believe some finish lines are to be left uncrossed. Sometimes the journey is more relevant than the destination.
It should come as no surprise that my blog is fueled by premeditation. This virtual world is, after all, frequented by grandmothers and peeping toms alike. It is a world where filth and naiveté are a mere couple hundred pixels apart from each other on any given screen at almost any given time. However, my “saved drafts” folder acts much like an extension of my mind – crawling with mundane epiphanies, unfounded accusations, small holes poked in grand notions, and ideas too premature or experiences too personal to share.
Why am I revealing the existence of my hidden trove of unpublished posts? Well, because on occasion, I find great pleasure in perusing my unfiltered mind and on an occasions such as this morning, I stumble onto posts that were never intended to remain in the top secret thought catalogue.
It feels like eons ago that I was losing sleep over my low caliber employment and even lower caliber apartment complex, but it was just one short year ago. I forget how desperately I wanted to be a graphic designer. It’s strange how desperate desires can slowly fade or switch bait in a hot second.
Here I sit, one year older, several hundred nueral pathways crossed, a few more scars on my heart… and still losing sleep. I now live in a world where sleep is lost on me for much harder reasons than my Bermese neighbor’s religious chants carrying through paper thin walls at 2am. (Though I admittedly do not miss that nightly little Rose park ritual).
Life comes at you fast, sometimes.
Just in case anyone wants a small taste of an unintentionally unpublished fragment of my life from July 2013 at approximately 11:45 pm…
Eat your heart out, kid. You just might get a good laugh.
Fall semester at SVU is underway out there in the lovely Shenandoah valley and I am still feeling slightly awkward about the fact that I haven’t written a paper or lost sleep over logic proofs in roughly 5 months. Words cannot describe how stressful my last semester was before my college graduation. I had a full load of upper division reading intensive classes, was writing a 6000 word paper on feminist art, and interned 20 hours a week in the Communications Department.
On graduation day, I felt completely vindicated walking across the stage in front of Main Hall, diploma in hand, (especially since Mitt Romney was the speaker which caused SVU’s Communications Department to collectively have a month long anxiety attack.) I was also especially proud of the fact that I had designed the graduation invitations that were sent out to the VIP’s:
As well as the invitations JJ and I sent all of our friends and family:
My internship may have instigated a few premature gray hairs for me, but I learned some pretty cool design skills and got to throw around the title of “Assistant Graphic Designer” for a year. Mostly, though, I just got really good at cutting out people’s heads in photoshop for our Forum, Devotional, and Executive Lecture advertisements like this one:
I also got to make more fun slides from time to time, like this one:
Or this one:
I also got pretty darn good at photoshopping clothes on scantily clad Barbie dolls because apparently even inanimate objects in advertisements are not exempt from the honor code at Southern Virginia University.
Though the finished product contained Barbie dolls sporting outfits just short of turtlenecks and pant suits…
…It was a painstaking photoshop journey to get them there:
Barbies in their long legged natural element:
First attempt at modesty (shot down):
And ladies and gentlemen (drum roll please) I give you: Honor code appropriate Barbies:
And… “Obama is not impressed”
And… “Oh, hey Woody.”
I searched high and low for entry level design jobs or internships upon arrival here in the promised land, but was confronted with the common post graduate realization that to get cool jobs you need experience, but you can’t get that experience without having a job first. It’s all part of a twisted master plan in which the universe rubs my nose in the fact that I have a double major in Art and Liberal Arts from a small east coast private school and therefore have a customer service job inspite of my visual communication skills.
Aside from waking up at 5:30am every day and swallowing the fact that my daily contribution to society is acting as a behind the scenes cog in the intricate workings of a low brow department store, my job really isn’t that bad. I frequently remind myself that it could be worse. I could be working in an actual store scanning all the merchandise and working all the reports, but instead, I am content to be on the other end of an inpersonal 1-800 number telling other people how to do their job. I’m getting pretty good at it too, which was to be expected I guess. It’s the kind of job where you learn everything you need to know… and then just sit around knowing it… and answering questions over the phone.
Last week after successfully placating an associate in tears because she was on the non-compliance report for her RFID scans, a coworker across the aisle who has worked there for 15 years said to me, “I can’t believe how fast you’ve caught on. Honey, you were born for this!”
If by “this” she meant helping technologically inept middle aged humans understand the basic function of a search engine or answering questions found in manuals they don’t want to read, then I really didn’t know whether I should have been flattered or offended, but I just smiled and said, “Gee, Thanks.”
Maybe someday I’ll get to have a super cool graphic design job, but until then…
The calls roll in.
And the beat goes on.