A Personal Reminder: I Don't Hate My Job

While I use the blog as a place to vent, (among other things), I do have to remind myself that I do work for a start-up, with some good friends (old and new), and at a place with a huge potential for growth.

I have to remind myself that I'm capable to do what I'm doing, that everything is a work-in-process, that maybe I wish I could make more money but I know what's in the pipeline and I understand the nature of a new company. I know that I'm not being screwed over, and that I wouldn't be doing what I'm doing unless I enjoyed the work. And the flexibility I have, my goodness. I get to work at home. Which is wonderful (but also insane). Bonus: Working in PJs.

Even though I've had my disagreements with co-workers, I have learned to speak up and we all communicate on the level, that it's okay to be vocal if you are not okay with what's going on. That any weird hangups I have working with a bunch of dudes need to go away, that I'm just as important as anyone else on our team.

I need to remember that we are all on the same page, working for the same goals, and part of the same team. And I like those bastards, damnit.

(*thanks to one of my amazing co-workers for writing up a little something that made my day better, & let me breathe.)

Villa America by Liza Klaussmann: A Review

There is always a certain charm existing in novels that take place during this era. The first notions of stripping away puritanical ideals, reveling in the Jazz Age, freedom to drink, freedom to have sex (as one so chooses), freedom to make art and let art be your calling.

 

It's idealized, certainly, an existence of the wealthier set, but there is truth to this historically based novel Villa America, taking place on the French Riviera in the home of Sara and Gerald Murphy, American expats who welcomed the likes of Hemingway, the Fitzgeralds, and Picasso into their home.

Sara is motherly and wise, and charming and beautiful and all these wonderful things. Gerald longs for something, and this novel assumes that something is a repressed sexuality, but I'm not quite certain if there is any historical evidence for this notion. However, it's a good, albeit possibly needlessly dramatized story of the 1920s and these amazing people that populated that era.

The author acknowledges it is very much fiction, so we can forgive that. There's a value to this, if you are a fan of The Great Gatsby and the riotous fakeness of it all, the temporal beauty fueled by alcohol and obsession, the players in the story knowing how fleeting, how fictitious, this crazy existence is and living it more loudly and vibrantly for it.

This book is that. A story of a time, of an era. Makes you want to go back and consider the Lost Generation all over again, outside of the context of high school requirements. And Jebus, look how beautiful it all was:

(*ARC received free via Shelf Awareness for review.)

Gerald and Sara Murphy.
(from The New Yorker)

Zelda Fitzgerald






 

OMG LMFAO, SMH, FML. #beer

LMFAO.

Right? Right. I’m totally LMFAO right now, because this is ridiculous.  Uncle and nephew duo (yeah, you read that right) of the electronic dance music group LMFAO are apparently pretty pissed off that Pigeon Hill Brewing is taking advantage of their Party Rockin’ success and infringing on their quality name by calling their stout "LMFAO Stout" (aka Let Me Fetch An Oatmeal). Because, someone might think that the band brewed the beer, or that Redfoo and Sky Blu wholeheartedly endorse this particular stout when obviously they prefer champagne (showers.. pop, pop, pop it in the club. Ahem.)

HOW LONG DO WE NEED TO BE SHUFFLING, PEOPLE? Seriously, is this really a thing?  Is this really a point of confusion? Has LMFAO recorded anything after 2012? No, nope of course not. What this is is trigger-happy lawyers that jump on trademark disputes quicker than you can say “I’m sexy and I know it.”

Let’s talk about trademark law right quick. Here’s what’s up. Yes, the trademark owners (or their representatives) are required to police and monitor the use of their trademark. There is no office that will do that for them; the responsibility is solely up to them. So trademark owners are correct to be aware of organizations that are infringing on their namesake. But what exactly is trademark infringement? It’s the commercial use of the same or similar mark by another that is “likely to cause confusion” among actual or potential customers of the products or services at issue. 

Are we confused?

LMFAO (Stout)

LMFAO (Music People)

Probably, but not for the reasons for which trademark law would apply. 

Anyway, LMFAO Stout was so named as the result of a social media search, invoking silly internet slang for fun. Which, I’m fairly certain, was around before this duo.

To conclude, all you really need to do is read this response from Ms. Sheila Eddy from Smith, Haughey, Rice & Roegge, Pigeon Hill’s legal representatives:

Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle, wiggle, wiggle, yeah.

*no ill will against LMFAO (the band), by the way. But really-this is kind of ridiculous.

UPDATE : Amicable solutions are in the works, and everyone enjoys good beer. I figured gents who make this totally zany, cray (though well-produced) music couldn't be total douchebags. I was skeptical of the lawyer, because- lawyers, but it seems like it's all gonna be alright.

 

This IS how I write, damnit.

So,
  I've been listening to Rough Draft on Rainmaker.fm, a short little daily podcast that's writing tips, tricks and other things for digital marketers, and I'm digging it. This episode was pretty good. All about being a plain-spoken writer, and the value of learning to do this sort of thing.

That's how I write. Because I've figure out that trying to 'fancy up' my shit doesn't make it authentic or interesting and no one really cares how many big words I know. Especially with writing content for web. No one has an attention span. People want something direct, to the point, but they also want it to have a voice that they can relate to.

Basically, this podcast is reminding us that we don't write with an instinctual nature, especially for publication. Because once it's out there, it's out there, and we are scared of it. That's why I love having this blog, because I told myself I don't care about how many people are reading this and what they think of me. I am writing to write and get things off my mind and because I enjoy writing. It's a help, allowing me to do that with my work as well.

BUT- we speak, naturally. So write as if you are speaking.

Here's my gripe, okay? We have a good editor. We do. He's great, smart, English major, all that jazz. Totally beyond me. I know my work will always need editing, and that's totally fine. But sometimes my pieces lose my voice in that process. It's not my writing anymore, and it makes me in turns sad, angry, and defiant.

I want to give examples, but I'm not going to. But suffice to say, I don't write/talk that way.

What's a girl to do?

Probably nothing beside complain here, because I need a paycheck. 

The Martian by Andy Weir — A Review

I think we are automatically fascinated by stories about space travel, leaving our planet, exploring new worlds. We seek to find answers, something bigger, something beyond our little lives. Leaving this Earth is one of the biggest, baddest ways to do that, right?

Right. That wasn't really a question, it was a statement, but please take a few minutes to ponder our tininess.

Alright, so here we go.

The Martian by Andy Weir fits this bill. An everyman, Mark Watney, is also a botanist and an astronaut. He is part of a Mars mission, not the first, but a continuation in a series of eventual colonization. Our dream, currently. SpaceX and all that. Very timely.

Something bad happens. He is left behind. He should be dead, but he is not.

Mars is far away. Help is far away. This is a stranded person on the biggest, most remote island ever. Not even the luxury of a tropical beach and coconuts.

Surviving is such a human thing. It's our nature, it's what we strive for, automatically. It's instinct. That's part of the gravity (ha, see what I did there?) of this book. That's partly why it's been a best seller. It's so inherent. All the themes within this book, despite all the fun technical clever solutions and space talk, it's the core themes- exploration, survival, and, most importantly, the realization that our humanity is so very small but so very, very vital.

Space is boundless. It's outside, within us, above us, beyond us. We are little bits of space,between all those molecules in our atoms. These big broad themes are within us, and we relate.

I like these concepts. I liked the book. I'm not going to say it's the best writing, because it's not, or the most original concept, it's not, but it's engaging. Even if you aren't finding all these big conceptual things within it, it's still a good, quick read. I'm just being introspective these days, ha.

And, honestly, I think the movie might be pretty decent, because the text in the book is written like audio logs from Mark, so it leaves a lot to the imagination. You leave him at a critical moment, and then he comes back. The action in-between will make for good screen fodder, and I have faith in Ridley Scott, hehe.

 But do give the book a read. You should always give the book a read.

Cheers.

Bar Story #2

It's hot. It's hot and narrow and slippery. You get messy. The trash can is filled with remnants of uneaten meals, and you find yourself judging faceless, nameless people by the amount and type of waste they send back. (The pork chop comes with kale and succotash. Apparently, you just wanted the pork chop. This is why you are fat. You're probably fat. Or at least have a high chance of heart disease in the future.)

I've concluded that this may be the least glamorous thing one can do in a kitchen. But also an important part of the organization, the flow, that keeps the whole system moving. You can't cook unless you've got enough pans, right? Dishwasher.

A full house, 40 person reso (that's reservation, for you non-restaurant folk), and a sick dishwasher meant I spent my evening last night in the smallest kitchen in the world, working alongside my husband and his sous chef. Doing dishes.

I'm lazy, and spoiled with a job that means I pretty much do what I am doing right now all day (sitting on my ass, typing things), so I kind of like stepping out of my normality every once and awhile. And I enjoy watching the dance in a more intimate way, and hope I don't screw it all up.

The dance is this:

The tickets come in. The sound that haunts cooks in their dreams, that old school printer sound, one after another after another. Orders are read, loudly, and the tickets put on the rail. Everyone moves. I move out of the way.

"Behind!"

"Open Oven!"

"Hot Pan!"

"On Your Left!"

"Four, All Day!"

"Dropping Fries!"

You need to be aware in a kitchen, any kitchen. You need to know what everyone is doing, at all times. A good team knows each others' nuances, their movements and strides, what they will do and how they will do it. A good team can effortlessly dodge each other and any obstacles in the way.

A good team learns their kitchen. Each has it's own quirks and eccentricities:

-The health inspector says we have to have the drain just so, but it's a crappy drain and if you change the sani-water (Sanitizer sink, takes care of any yucky germs), and don't remember to check the drain, you'll be mopping up gallons of spilled liquid in the middle of dinner service, and everyone will hate you.

-This kitchen is so tight on space that everything needs to be exactly where it is, at all times. Don't mess up the organization because it works better for you. It's not about you.

A good team also has a mix of Pandora or Spotify stations constantly blaring that are in turns annoying, loud, hilarious or a combination of the three.

After the 1st rush and I burn my hand on a hot pan because I'm an idiot (and spend the rest of my evening alternately washing dishes and plunging my scalded flesh into a bucket of ice water so I can then ignore the pain when I stick my hand back into super hot and soapy water to finish my job), three shots of delicious house-infused liquor appear, which we all take two seconds to toast and chug before the printer starts up again.

I am gross and disgusting at the end of the evening, but all the Front of House girls say I am the cutest dishwasher that's ever worked there and they like me the most.


So, there's that.

Another Day by David Levithan — A Review

So I decided I had to get up on my NetGalley/ Ebook reading, though I prefer physical copies. Regardless, NetGalley is an awesome program and if you are all good with digital, please please check them on. Okay, on to the review.

Another Day by David Levithan is the 2nd book in his Every Day series, I'm led to believe, having not read the first one. You can definitely read this as a standalone, so don't let that stop you if you pick this up.

Following the story of A from their love interest, Rhiannon’s, perspective, this YA book deals with the issue of love, what that really means,how much you want to let it change you, and how you deal with the things you cannot change.

I don't want to give it away, if anyone happens to pick this up first, but I can say it has a unique, fantasy element that remains wholly tangible, something you can grasp and understand, because under the current of strangeness is the emotions of first love and confusion we all recall feeling.

I read this one awfully quick, in a good way. It caught my attention after the first chapter. Rhiannon's character is initially in a relationship with Justin, a boy at her school. She loves and hates him, wants to be near to him and forces herself to keep a distance to pacify his temperamental, independent attitude towards her and his life in general. The wrestling with the conflict of feelings and the discovering of your own self-worth and what you value, who you are and what you really deserve are familiar for anyone, like me, who has once been a teenage girl.

A's varied personas and appearances are all over the place. Ugly, fat, thin, handsome, boy, girl. It's perfect, a great device that asks the reader to determine what is it about someone that makes you want them, love them?

Ultimately, this book is about the nature of affection, of love and the centrality of that rush of emotion, that desire and pull on your heart that makes you feel whole. It asks you to ask yourself: "Do I want that thing that makes my every day my Every Day? What would I be willing to do to find it?"


(*digital ARC received free via NetGalley for review.)