stud lise lise? shari earthmen.
stereo incisive incisive reflexive lise.
zen portraiture:reflexive hemingway.
part zodiac.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Tornado invocate.
Show merit for the pathogenesis.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
6179.
At first, it was because there was no internet connection to be had, but I thought I'd make due, and head to a starbucks or wireless hotspot from time to time and unspool that which had been spooled. Read. Keep tabs.
It turned out that this whole internet thing was very much a habit of convenience for me. The fact that it was there at the end or beginning of a day made it the reason I went to it, though it's apparently not so much a hunt or a chase of it that I'm finding worthwhile. Kind of upsetting, in a sense. I get lost in thinking what I used to actualy do online for the hours I'd spend there. I never would even attach myself to AIM. I guess a lot of wiki'ing and that sort of affair.
I have no laptop now. Hardware failure, etc., whatever. So this phone is it at this point. I set up mobile blogging to see if maybe this'd keep me connected. We'll see. I'd like it to.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
FAR too comatose!
and how would they know?
far too gone, my face is their liver feeling.
grand theft auto iv is far too much like this addiction that won't stop a life that just won't stop these tasks that just won't stop.
m.
the saxophone sound. the drifting off needle in arm. won't she know me? it's words. ahhhghh, it's only words. you talk to it like it's something else. human! she/he human!
far too gone, my face is their liver feeling.
grand theft auto iv is far too much like this addiction that won't stop a life that just won't stop these tasks that just won't stop.
m.
the saxophone sound. the drifting off needle in arm. won't she know me? it's words. ahhhghh, it's only words. you talk to it like it's something else. human! she/he human!
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
TO DAVE: ON LSD
a tweet:
awinedrowning: if you are blind and you take LSD... does anything happen?
my initial answer to this is you probably feel an extraordinary amount of different things, not just things you can SEE as we have come to know what SEEing is.
the blind SEE with their skin, their ears. their mouths, their noses. think of a pentagon equally divided into five sections, each shaded in a certain amount. remove one section, leaving four sections, but still distribute the area equally, this time between four sections instead of five. this is how i always understood the way that those with sensory disabilities adapt. i could be wrong.
my initial answer would be to say that they'll probably start to continue with the standard effects of LSD (hyperactive, lucid imagination) that plays itself out in the standard sorts of ways. new ideas, new experiences, free from the boundaries we're used to, and almost haunted in each new idea's life.
my initial answer would most likely continue through to say that they would probably feel things that weren't real on their skin, they'd hear things that weren't real in their ears. although with their other senses, they might smell or taste things that weren't real as well.
the initial answer changes a little bit when you throw the idea of someone who wasn't blind their entire life. which then gets more fine tuned when you think about how much of their life was spent with vision, and at what accuracy. did they lose their sight by way of degeneration, or an instant act?
i read up on the drug, though, when i got home tonight. apparently, albert hofmann, the father of LSD, experienced "fantastic pictures, extraordinary shapes with intense, kaleidoscopic play of colors" when he closed his eyes on one of the first days of accidentally stumbling upon the more 'psychedelic' uses of this drug. three days later, he went on a full-on TRIP, taking a theoretic "maximum dosage", and ended up experiencing a maelstrom of things, as you can imagine.
he began to speak unintelligibly, and on his assisted bike ride home felt that he was completely stationary while in reality he was actually moving at a "very rapid" pace. for several hours, he thought he was possessed, his neighbor was a witch, and that his furniture was threatening him. one key thing he mentioned (in specific reference to the blind) is every acoustic perception, such as the sound of a passing automobile, was transformed into optical perceptions. the next day, he mentions, though, (in contrast to the blindness) that his breakfast tasted unusually delicious, and all of his senses were "vibrating in a condition of highest sensitivity, which then persisted for the entire day".
to further color coordinate:
...an experience of radiant colors, objects and surfaces appearing to ripple or "breathe," colored patterns behind the eyes, a sense of time distorting (time seems to be stretching, repeating itself, changing speed or stopping), crawling geometric patterns overlaying walls and other objects, morphing objects, a sense that one's thoughts are spiraling into themselves, loss of a sense of identity or the ego (known as "ego death"), and powerful, and sometimes brutal, psycho-physical reactions interpreted by some users as reliving their own birth Many users experience a dissolution between themselves and the "outside world".
further breakdown:
VISUAL:
includes the illusion of movement of static surfaces ("walls breathing"), after image-like trails of moving objects ("tracers"), the appearance of moving colored geometric patterns (especially with closed eyes), an intensification of colors and brightness ("sparkling"), new textures on objects, blurred vision, and shape suggestibility. the inanimate world appears to animate in an unexplained way.
AURAL:
echo-like distortions of sounds, a mixing of all sounds which makes it harder to discern distinct sounds, the feeling that what you're hearing is your thought, a general intensification of the experience of music, and an increased discrimination of instruments and sounds.
--
so, i think my answer is close, although there seems to be a lot more going on with the visual end of things.
awinedrowning: if you are blind and you take LSD... does anything happen?
my initial answer to this is you probably feel an extraordinary amount of different things, not just things you can SEE as we have come to know what SEEing is.
the blind SEE with their skin, their ears. their mouths, their noses. think of a pentagon equally divided into five sections, each shaded in a certain amount. remove one section, leaving four sections, but still distribute the area equally, this time between four sections instead of five. this is how i always understood the way that those with sensory disabilities adapt. i could be wrong.
my initial answer would be to say that they'll probably start to continue with the standard effects of LSD (hyperactive, lucid imagination) that plays itself out in the standard sorts of ways. new ideas, new experiences, free from the boundaries we're used to, and almost haunted in each new idea's life.
my initial answer would most likely continue through to say that they would probably feel things that weren't real on their skin, they'd hear things that weren't real in their ears. although with their other senses, they might smell or taste things that weren't real as well.
the initial answer changes a little bit when you throw the idea of someone who wasn't blind their entire life. which then gets more fine tuned when you think about how much of their life was spent with vision, and at what accuracy. did they lose their sight by way of degeneration, or an instant act?
i read up on the drug, though, when i got home tonight. apparently, albert hofmann, the father of LSD, experienced "fantastic pictures, extraordinary shapes with intense, kaleidoscopic play of colors" when he closed his eyes on one of the first days of accidentally stumbling upon the more 'psychedelic' uses of this drug. three days later, he went on a full-on TRIP, taking a theoretic "maximum dosage", and ended up experiencing a maelstrom of things, as you can imagine.
he began to speak unintelligibly, and on his assisted bike ride home felt that he was completely stationary while in reality he was actually moving at a "very rapid" pace. for several hours, he thought he was possessed, his neighbor was a witch, and that his furniture was threatening him. one key thing he mentioned (in specific reference to the blind) is every acoustic perception, such as the sound of a passing automobile, was transformed into optical perceptions. the next day, he mentions, though, (in contrast to the blindness) that his breakfast tasted unusually delicious, and all of his senses were "vibrating in a condition of highest sensitivity, which then persisted for the entire day".
to further color coordinate:
...an experience of radiant colors, objects and surfaces appearing to ripple or "breathe," colored patterns behind the eyes, a sense of time distorting (time seems to be stretching, repeating itself, changing speed or stopping), crawling geometric patterns overlaying walls and other objects, morphing objects, a sense that one's thoughts are spiraling into themselves, loss of a sense of identity or the ego (known as "ego death"), and powerful, and sometimes brutal, psycho-physical reactions interpreted by some users as reliving their own birth Many users experience a dissolution between themselves and the "outside world".
further breakdown:
VISUAL:
includes the illusion of movement of static surfaces ("walls breathing"), after image-like trails of moving objects ("tracers"), the appearance of moving colored geometric patterns (especially with closed eyes), an intensification of colors and brightness ("sparkling"), new textures on objects, blurred vision, and shape suggestibility. the inanimate world appears to animate in an unexplained way.
AURAL:
echo-like distortions of sounds, a mixing of all sounds which makes it harder to discern distinct sounds, the feeling that what you're hearing is your thought, a general intensification of the experience of music, and an increased discrimination of instruments and sounds.
--
so, i think my answer is close, although there seems to be a lot more going on with the visual end of things.
Friday, April 18, 2008
and what in those possibilities.
i wasn't sure if respite is the word, but it was.
for various things, at the moment.
it took me a few pages to say everything, and it was all disjointed until the end. there were a lot of small things i needed to say that didn't make sense in summary or conclusion. big liner notes. remember-the-time's. perspective. i don't even remember what it says. i get arrogant or egotistical or archival, and always find the need to have a copy of things that i've written to someone. i didn't this time. again, for various reasons.
-
SEEKING:
creative peers.
we're all very silly about our feelings. popping them up in the electronic field. let's feel good about what we're making and share it with each other instead of making it a VIP experience as part of a larger audience. call if you need to ask.
for various things, at the moment.
it took me a few pages to say everything, and it was all disjointed until the end. there were a lot of small things i needed to say that didn't make sense in summary or conclusion. big liner notes. remember-the-time's. perspective. i don't even remember what it says. i get arrogant or egotistical or archival, and always find the need to have a copy of things that i've written to someone. i didn't this time. again, for various reasons.
-
SEEKING:
creative peers.
we're all very silly about our feelings. popping them up in the electronic field. let's feel good about what we're making and share it with each other instead of making it a VIP experience as part of a larger audience. call if you need to ask.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
objects downstream propagate upstream.
what i need are really good headphones.
again.
i started thinking about who, exactly, i'm writing for. the perfect, "correct" answer would be myself. i write because i need to and i want to. i don't care who my audience is, what they think, how they react, or what they would like more or less of. i write to exorcise my own demons, and to manifest my own emotions into wellsprings of wordsplendor.
while this is true some of the time, it's not true all of the time. there are callings for both sorts of explorations, and i think that since i've just started to think a little bit more about these different facets as real functions, it starts to add a little bit more mechanic to the magic of the medium that i love most.
i've had more than a fair share of ideas for fiction that i thought i would start to unwind for my own love of the concept, and my own emotional output. the vision that i would have for a project would begin to collaborate with the ideas that i'd been inspired by and the collective surrounding environmental elements (background music, room noise, setting) to make a real product out of the raw skeletons that i were starting to collect muscle and skin in the brain. the more that i would get out the initial ideas, the more i would start to draw upon my peers and heroes for inspiration. what would THIS person do, or how would ANOTHER person write this? what would make SO AND SO love this?
and it becomes hard to retain that creative vacuum once you've gone that far.
i haven't written in a while, and it's certainly not because of a lack of ideas or emotions. there are plenty of both running completely rampant right behind the membranes of my fingers. my problem, at this point, is the idea that maybe no one would care. i think that's a very wrong outlook to have on any hobby, but especially one that tends to have such a relieving effect as a creative outlet.
i recently went through my old livejournal account and deleted much of what i read that i felt shouldn't exist. it was an odd thought process. i wasn't embarrassed of it or anything. well, i think i was. but i also just did to it what i think i want to do to anything that i read and don't approve of. approve may be too harsh a term. but looking back on those entries, i feel that there was this enormous imaginary audience that i felt i might have been speaking to. that concept sort of disgusted me. i'd start off entries by saying, "hey folks," and would apologize for "not writing as much" as if anyone noticed.
it's not something that i'm about. make the music you want to make, and the people who should find out about your music will. that's kind of the overall mindset i try to keep on all things. the whole "be yourself" ideal. if you try hard to impress someone by being something you're not and you succeed, you can either fail in the long run or become someone that you're not. there is no success here. if you live what you want to live, the others that live the way that you live (and therefore should be your peers, friends, associates, etc.) should become attracted to you. this goes for writing as well, and really, everything.
i feel like that whole concept is applied even in the distribution of this blog as a whole. livejournal and the myspace blog system just seem to become too watered down, and even when they aren't watered down, it almost becomes interpreted that you're trying to bring out a reaction or a response.
i've been having a hard time with that whole thought process for a little while. i thought maybe if i'd confront it by giving it a body of words it might be a little easier to tackle and eventually overcome.
--
i posted the poster for THERE WILL BE BLOOD back when i first saw the movie at the farmingdale theater during a matinee showing with about 7-10 other people, all at least twice my age. to me, that's always how this movie will feel perfectly viewed, and i've described it the same way every time:
it's a very silent, personal experience.
if i saw it in a packed theater with someone else, that might be how i'd feel it needed to be seen as well, but i'll never be sure.
i've since watched this movie twice. at first, i wasn't exactly sure what i'd taken from it aside from the fact that daniel day lewis crafted a masterpiece of the soul in daniel plainview. but after seeing it a third time overall, i know what it is.
it's the morals.
no new revolution.
the tweet i'd posted was meant to be about him:
a man of exquisite, relentless morals and no remorse.
i can get a sense of it, but can't quite define it at the moment.
again.
i started thinking about who, exactly, i'm writing for. the perfect, "correct" answer would be myself. i write because i need to and i want to. i don't care who my audience is, what they think, how they react, or what they would like more or less of. i write to exorcise my own demons, and to manifest my own emotions into wellsprings of wordsplendor.
while this is true some of the time, it's not true all of the time. there are callings for both sorts of explorations, and i think that since i've just started to think a little bit more about these different facets as real functions, it starts to add a little bit more mechanic to the magic of the medium that i love most.
i've had more than a fair share of ideas for fiction that i thought i would start to unwind for my own love of the concept, and my own emotional output. the vision that i would have for a project would begin to collaborate with the ideas that i'd been inspired by and the collective surrounding environmental elements (background music, room noise, setting) to make a real product out of the raw skeletons that i were starting to collect muscle and skin in the brain. the more that i would get out the initial ideas, the more i would start to draw upon my peers and heroes for inspiration. what would THIS person do, or how would ANOTHER person write this? what would make SO AND SO love this?
and it becomes hard to retain that creative vacuum once you've gone that far.
i haven't written in a while, and it's certainly not because of a lack of ideas or emotions. there are plenty of both running completely rampant right behind the membranes of my fingers. my problem, at this point, is the idea that maybe no one would care. i think that's a very wrong outlook to have on any hobby, but especially one that tends to have such a relieving effect as a creative outlet.
i recently went through my old livejournal account and deleted much of what i read that i felt shouldn't exist. it was an odd thought process. i wasn't embarrassed of it or anything. well, i think i was. but i also just did to it what i think i want to do to anything that i read and don't approve of. approve may be too harsh a term. but looking back on those entries, i feel that there was this enormous imaginary audience that i felt i might have been speaking to. that concept sort of disgusted me. i'd start off entries by saying, "hey folks," and would apologize for "not writing as much" as if anyone noticed.
it's not something that i'm about. make the music you want to make, and the people who should find out about your music will. that's kind of the overall mindset i try to keep on all things. the whole "be yourself" ideal. if you try hard to impress someone by being something you're not and you succeed, you can either fail in the long run or become someone that you're not. there is no success here. if you live what you want to live, the others that live the way that you live (and therefore should be your peers, friends, associates, etc.) should become attracted to you. this goes for writing as well, and really, everything.
i feel like that whole concept is applied even in the distribution of this blog as a whole. livejournal and the myspace blog system just seem to become too watered down, and even when they aren't watered down, it almost becomes interpreted that you're trying to bring out a reaction or a response.
i've been having a hard time with that whole thought process for a little while. i thought maybe if i'd confront it by giving it a body of words it might be a little easier to tackle and eventually overcome.
--
i posted the poster for THERE WILL BE BLOOD back when i first saw the movie at the farmingdale theater during a matinee showing with about 7-10 other people, all at least twice my age. to me, that's always how this movie will feel perfectly viewed, and i've described it the same way every time:
if i saw it in a packed theater with someone else, that might be how i'd feel it needed to be seen as well, but i'll never be sure.
i've since watched this movie twice. at first, i wasn't exactly sure what i'd taken from it aside from the fact that daniel day lewis crafted a masterpiece of the soul in daniel plainview. but after seeing it a third time overall, i know what it is.
it's the morals.
no new revolution.
the tweet i'd posted was meant to be about him:
i can get a sense of it, but can't quite define it at the moment.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
moobout,
SOMEONE'S DEAD!
call me on it.
tonight had a sort of specific purpose which got shifted in the interest of media and awkward circumstance.
that place never was real
that face never was real.
i'm looking back "loading..." is what i'm getting but even without pure memory, textwords, i know what i was feeling in brackettime. i still love you.
relative.
i feel heavy like i need to carry myself.
the library; the garden.
call me on it.
tonight had a sort of specific purpose which got shifted in the interest of media and awkward circumstance.
that place never was real
that face never was real.
i'm looking back "loading..." is what i'm getting but even without pure memory, textwords, i know what i was feeling in brackettime. i still love you.
relative.
i feel heavy like i need to carry myself.
the library; the garden.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
i'm not that into it anymore.
i almost called in sick today. i was so into this weather and it brought back intense vibes of when i first came back and who i was seeing and what we were doing and what i was reading and listening to and writing. and so much has changed since then and i've mired myself down into this particular situation and have been working and coming inside and playing video games and not reading a word that didn't lead to shooting or cutting someone down but i have been earning a lot of achievement points which is more or less alright. i looked at the weather over the next few days and it's not more of the same, it goes back to what it was doing before it was doing this. but today is like a trailer. i'm okay with that, because i've been waiting long enough.
today makes me feel good.
this upcoming week, i get to legitimately find out some information which will affect the next months or years of my residential life. and romantic life.
i still haven't been paid, but they said it's coming.
today makes me feel good.
this upcoming week, i get to legitimately find out some information which will affect the next months or years of my residential life. and romantic life.
i still haven't been paid, but they said it's coming.
Monday, April 07, 2008
channeling.
artist adie russell lip-synching ginsberg, and kerouac as well as others.
when you're done, go back and check out her other stuff.
on the road for the illiterate.
this is pretty wonderful.
the artist took the book ON THE ROAD and broke it down into colors and numbers, essentially. the color of the burst is the subject, and the size of the burst is the number of words.
not only is it impressive in vision and scope of the work, but for me, at least, it works as a great reminder of all of the different things i felt while reading this book.
outstanding.
Friday, April 04, 2008
subject.
when they come home, they steal all of my air and my silence and drive me back to my corner.
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
"slow motion."
go to portfolios, and american asylums.
not sure how to direct link it.
those are pretty fantastic.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
whoawhoawhoa.
i'm having a hard time feeling anything.
i'm in a serious depression but it's not real because it's not external but it's internal. it's a more or less severe thing where i want to lay in bed all day but i don't and i never feel relieved from dreaming but i'm dreaming. and i'll think of the most relentless most depraved way for me to find happiness and i find NOTHING. that's the kind of empty i'm on. and i'm worried that this isn't chemical imbalance but actual chemical disruption. one of those kids. i don't get it because i'm fine. it's been weeks since i've been alright. i feel like i'm beat. skin. i want to know she's there. i sleep and dream and write them down but it's of no console. it's stupid because i'm smarter than this. there's nothing worse than being smarter than what yo're being overcome by. divide yourself in two. i'm a walking civil war. i can laugh and you can watch me, and i'm moving and you can watch me. but there's a little bit more doing than might be done. i won't live to be old.
\////////
i'm in a serious depression but it's not real because it's not external but it's internal. it's a more or less severe thing where i want to lay in bed all day but i don't and i never feel relieved from dreaming but i'm dreaming. and i'll think of the most relentless most depraved way for me to find happiness and i find NOTHING. that's the kind of empty i'm on. and i'm worried that this isn't chemical imbalance but actual chemical disruption. one of those kids. i don't get it because i'm fine. it's been weeks since i've been alright. i feel like i'm beat. skin. i want to know she's there. i sleep and dream and write them down but it's of no console. it's stupid because i'm smarter than this. there's nothing worse than being smarter than what yo're being overcome by. divide yourself in two. i'm a walking civil war. i can laugh and you can watch me, and i'm moving and you can watch me. but there's a little bit more doing than might be done. i won't live to be old.
\////////
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Friday, March 14, 2008
Thursday, March 13, 2008
some subject.
i read somewhere, i think it was the new york post or the daily news, that there was a man who was just recently arrested for dealing a half pound(?) bag of heroin for further distribution out of his girlfriend's town house apartment in new york city. it went on to talk about this man's history of drug use, and that at one point he was on a habit of fifteen uses a day of junk.
that's fierce.
it also mentioned that "heroin goes for about $10 to $20 on the street."
love the info.
that's fierce.
it also mentioned that "heroin goes for about $10 to $20 on the street."
love the info.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
12.000
it's growing to be 5am and i have work tomorrow and i don't care when i go in but if i am up i'll go on time but if i don't i'll get there when i can and they can call if they want but i'll be tending to things like self maintenance and a quantifying of worth. i've just had so much i've wanted to do and i'm finally unwinding after three straight full days there. the past 30+ hours of that store have been me. i've been that store. but.
i wanted to talk a little about this new job prospect but it makes me too nervous to put words to it. i'm not qualified for it, or excited about it, nor do i see myself in it for a long time and i assume this will pose a large problem considering it's going to be in an office with my father which could prove to be a whole new sort of chapter in and of itself. what i'm already hoping is that it doesn't work out but i have too much ethic to sabotage myself consciously.
i wanted to dedicate march to getting through all of my video games that i'd had sitting on my shelf but then all this work stuff started to happen all the way through. just nonstop. who could even breathe. i just beat god of war for psp tonight. such good things, just not enough of them. not really a complaint, though. size doesn't matter.
i need to stretch tantrically, and extend all of these compacted upper body units. this is one of the reasons i so badly want a high school desk when i finally finalize where i live.
i was going to mention something about it, but then stopped, but then thought about how stupid it is to NOT mention it. i checked out the new nine inch nails album's first disc and couldn't even formulate an opinion on it. for my definition and format, those weren't even songs. they were just musicians starting playing together on the same wavelength and then stopping. rahul sent me the rest of the discs which i am i am going to give an honest chance to. told rahul and brian the same deal. what i'd like is for one of those discs to be somewhere between sigur ros, explosions in the sky, and beside you in time with no drums, just electronics and lo-fi sounds. it's not going to happen, i don't think. but.
there's a book of artwork that comes with this new album which contains about 40 photographs taken by Phillip Graybill and Rob Sheridan which make me think they were taken for me. i don't know another way to put it beyond the fact that these are the places that i want to be to take on the largeness of the world and of the life. apparently, the only way to get this book is to buy the record package and i don't want to buy the record package. what i'd like is the book and i'd pay probably no more than $27 for it, unless it was bigger and(/slightly or) had words to accompany it. either way, these are perfect photos, the kind that i would want enlarged on glossy photo paper and framed in a new white apartment of mine. maybe numbered with silver pen.
ghosts.nin.com
i wanted to talk a little about this new job prospect but it makes me too nervous to put words to it. i'm not qualified for it, or excited about it, nor do i see myself in it for a long time and i assume this will pose a large problem considering it's going to be in an office with my father which could prove to be a whole new sort of chapter in and of itself. what i'm already hoping is that it doesn't work out but i have too much ethic to sabotage myself consciously.
i wanted to dedicate march to getting through all of my video games that i'd had sitting on my shelf but then all this work stuff started to happen all the way through. just nonstop. who could even breathe. i just beat god of war for psp tonight. such good things, just not enough of them. not really a complaint, though. size doesn't matter.
i need to stretch tantrically, and extend all of these compacted upper body units. this is one of the reasons i so badly want a high school desk when i finally finalize where i live.
i was going to mention something about it, but then stopped, but then thought about how stupid it is to NOT mention it. i checked out the new nine inch nails album's first disc and couldn't even formulate an opinion on it. for my definition and format, those weren't even songs. they were just musicians starting playing together on the same wavelength and then stopping. rahul sent me the rest of the discs which i am i am going to give an honest chance to. told rahul and brian the same deal. what i'd like is for one of those discs to be somewhere between sigur ros, explosions in the sky, and beside you in time with no drums, just electronics and lo-fi sounds. it's not going to happen, i don't think. but.
there's a book of artwork that comes with this new album which contains about 40 photographs taken by Phillip Graybill and Rob Sheridan which make me think they were taken for me. i don't know another way to put it beyond the fact that these are the places that i want to be to take on the largeness of the world and of the life. apparently, the only way to get this book is to buy the record package and i don't want to buy the record package. what i'd like is the book and i'd pay probably no more than $27 for it, unless it was bigger and(/slightly or) had words to accompany it. either way, these are perfect photos, the kind that i would want enlarged on glossy photo paper and framed in a new white apartment of mine. maybe numbered with silver pen.
Saturday, March 08, 2008
blue gray hat, blue gray suit, swishing motion.
i'm currently unhappy at my job situation, and it's due to money and i never thought it would come down to that. i've never been into money. i'm not "into" it now. that's not what i'm saying. the thing is, i'm finally able to quantify the way that i've been stiffed this time around.
it started with another employee badgering me about my lack of video game knowledge and wholly different approach at retail, life, video games, entertainment, media, dress, etc. then the optionless calling on my days off. then the manager not showing up for a week. two weeks. now two months. that was all just things that you could complain about, but in a way you were doing your job as part of what you'd signed on to do.
but this time around, it's finally to the point where something is on paper that the hours that i've worked don't add up to the compensation i've received. numerically. i worked 50 hours each of these last two weeks. i got paid for 80 hours. that's twenty hours that i was in the store, that i wasn't at home, that i was keeping their store going that i won't get back or get compensated for.
see, they moved me to a salaried position without telling me. and it's not like i didn't have options here. they asked if i wanted coverage. but it's our store. i like the feeling of knowing everything that's going on in those walls. we had someone fill in yesterday, and it's just weird trying to explain a certain different way of doing things. it's not my thing. but i took on these extra hours and days thinking that i'd be getting overtime. and you know what, forget overtime, just PAY in general.
i'm scheduled to work 54 hours next week. i don't think that's going to happen. i'm out. i've gone on an interview and it went well, and i hope it went well enough to be taken on as an associate and begin to make money doing those things.
this was all useless to say and point out.
it's pouring.
it started with another employee badgering me about my lack of video game knowledge and wholly different approach at retail, life, video games, entertainment, media, dress, etc. then the optionless calling on my days off. then the manager not showing up for a week. two weeks. now two months. that was all just things that you could complain about, but in a way you were doing your job as part of what you'd signed on to do.
but this time around, it's finally to the point where something is on paper that the hours that i've worked don't add up to the compensation i've received. numerically. i worked 50 hours each of these last two weeks. i got paid for 80 hours. that's twenty hours that i was in the store, that i wasn't at home, that i was keeping their store going that i won't get back or get compensated for.
see, they moved me to a salaried position without telling me. and it's not like i didn't have options here. they asked if i wanted coverage. but it's our store. i like the feeling of knowing everything that's going on in those walls. we had someone fill in yesterday, and it's just weird trying to explain a certain different way of doing things. it's not my thing. but i took on these extra hours and days thinking that i'd be getting overtime. and you know what, forget overtime, just PAY in general.
i'm scheduled to work 54 hours next week. i don't think that's going to happen. i'm out. i've gone on an interview and it went well, and i hope it went well enough to be taken on as an associate and begin to make money doing those things.
this was all useless to say and point out.
it's pouring.
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