Pearl Jam / Pearl Jam
Life Wasted / 3:54
You're always saying that there's something wrongI'm starting to believe it's you're plan all alongDeath came around, forced to hear it's songAnd know tomorrow can't be depended onSeen the home inside your headAll locked doors and unmade bedsOpen sores unattendedLet me say just once thatI have faced it, a life wastedI'm never going back againI escaped it, a life wastedI'm never going back againhaving tasted, a life wastedI'm never going back againThe world awaits just up the stairsLeave the pain for someone elseNothing back there for you to findOr was it you you left behind?You're always saying you're too weak to be strongYou're harder on yourself than just about anyoneWhy swim the channel just to get this far?Halfway there, why would you turn around?Darkness comes in waves...tell me,Why invite it to stay?You're one with negativityYes, comfort is an energyBut why let the sad song play?I have faced it, a life wastedI'm never going back againOh I escaped it, a life wastedI'm never going back againhaving tasted, a life wastedI'm never going back againoh i erased it, a life wasted---
Warning: The following post contains bitterness, sexuality and coarse language. Viewer discretion is advised.The first track of the newly released self-titled Pearl Jam album struck a chord immediately. Sitting here on my "mental health" day wishing more and more for the far off quit day I don't know whether to feel more bitter or find solace in the lyrics of my life wasted/ing.
As my blog is only really read by coworkers anyway its probably pointless to sum up my worklife but here it goes anyway: I was hired by Access Justice as a "Community Social Development Representative" which I thought would be a good segue from my previous position as an external rep / advocate and my interests in social movements, organizing and public engagements.
The job, as it turns out, had little to do with those goals but more with managing clinics from a computer and telephone. A step down for certain but my financial situation didn't permit excessive pickiness. Besides, it was for a good cause and the people seemed friendly.
The clinic part of the job lasted almost as briefly as the long-winded title did. Instead it became obvious that I would become the assistant of the eccentric (read crazy) Executive Director of the organization, whose primary chore is to type, type and type some more. Now even the most dull secretarial job generally involves some editing, some self-initiative, but not for me. Even my slightest change would generally be noticed and erased in the dozen or so revisions of every minor document (major ones would see 20, 30 or more revisions). I personally feel responsible for the forests decimated as part of my job - printing and reprinting the same document for a comma here or a period there, or worse, because the last copy got thrown out with the last revised copy.
When I'm not typing I can be lucky enough to call lawyers. I say this facetiously because, in my opinion, its worse than typing. Typing can be stopped at any point and only involves your two hands. Your mind, ears and mouth can usually disengage from the work, which is not the case with calling. The times where I have disengaged my mind for varying reasons has often led to embarrassing results when a lawyer or secretary finally answers the phone. Again, though, like typing there is no creative avenues to explore unless once fancies changing greetings, salutations and other well-wishings. That gets old quick and both lawyers and their gatekeeping secretaries can sense tom-foolery immediately in which case the call is routed to voicemail or the lying-through-the-teeth "Is not available/In a meeting/With a client" response.
Recently a new "assistant" has been hired which has largely displaced me. This should make me happy, and in a roundabout way it does, except that, like everything to do with my job, it doesn't involve any of my discussion or input or even forewarning. One day I come in and 90% of my work is gone. Trying to be pro-active on this issue before it hit; however, I had attempted to provide an avenue that might aid the society and increase my interest in working there: writing grants and fundraising for our sorely indebted organization. This option was torpedoed without much thought by the Boss as he preferred to not only shell out the position to the new guy but also to promise 10% of any successful grant to boost their salary (which is already equal to the rest of the employees). A delightful tactic that only seeks to endear me more to this lovely workplace. All this despite the fact that I would likely be better suited and also have nothing to do given the evaporation of many of my brainless chores by our new friend (who doubtlessly would be too busy to focus too much time on the grants had they not come with such a large monetary incentive).
My positionlessness is quickly remedied however, although through no input on my end. Instead I'm reassigned to clinics, kind of what I was originally hired to do, by the Boss who thinks I've become jaded or bored (right on both fronts I suppose). He doesn't ask me if I've become bored or jaded. This has been decided for me and I'm moved yet again like a chess piece from one position to another. Although I consider clinics something probably more interesting than whatever it was I was doing before (which I'll still do of course, always on-loan in the service of typing and calling) I resent being jockeyed around the organization like a "girl friday" ready to assist whoever needs me next. Even my peers discuss what I should do next and recommend that up the ladder without a say from me. Maybe this is collective decision-making sans the individual completely. How lovely!
Another peev to mention is answering the telephone. A mindless chore really and not one I really resent. The telephone job, as I was informed around the time the primary answerer left, was everyone's job but that there was always someone designated to do automatically since the job that is everyone's quickly becomes no ones. A sensible principle. As I was the newest joinee and, as fate would have it, gradually filling in for the previous assistant Dave Fouche I would become that man. New people joined after that point but the telephone job wasn't really passed on to them - mainly because, as I surmised quickly, it was more of a secretarial job and I had somehow become the secretary. Still, people never failed to answer if I was busy or wasting time chatting and life was harmonious, until I offload the chore for the lengthy span of 30minutes or so mid-afternoon to the outrage of a colleague who demands I do my job because they're too busy to answer the phone (it had rung no more than three times during that period in an office with 8 or so employees capable of answering). Not exactly a comment said to the first among equals of answering the phone - not to mention pretty inconsiderate since it presupposes I am never busy when I answer the phone. More like something a boss might say when he finds the phone ringing off the hook and finds his ditzy secretary painting her toe-nails. I'll keep the toe-painting in store for the future...
This is not the only time when my job tasks seems to define my identity at work. Other, equally aggravating situations have included having others work dropped off to be typed for them. Now I'm no longer the Boss's assistant I'm everyone's. I don't think I need to continue on this train...
So whats the result? I am actually bored to tears in the office but instead of crying I try to laugh, or chat, or do anything, but I don't really think its much different. Sometimes I almost feel uncontrollably drunk and if there is a sober part of my mind it takes a back seat to watch with horror as the day unfolds. I'm amazed at the childish stuff that I'll take part in, whether its shooting elastic bands or some of the pointless conversations that I've either joined or jumped into. I think its at this point where the mind starts eating itself much as the body does after long periods of starvation. I can only hope that by July 21st there is something of it left. God knows I've tried throwing numerous distractions into the mix but nothing seems to be able to cure the retched mental nausea of continuing to watch a life wasted...
PS. I lied about the sexuality and coarse langauge.
Well, its Sunday afternoon at 3:15PM and I am alive and well enough to report on the 24-hour excursion extraordinaire that was the Sasquatch Music Festival at the Gorge in Washington state - a trip that began at 6:00 am on Saturday morning and ended at 6:00 am Sunday, totalling just over 12 hours of music and just under 12 hours of driving. I'll let the pictures tell the story:
Name: Joe, Billybob
Name: Glow, Asian
Name: Johannsen, Honky
Name: Chocolate, White
Name: Smartz, Lisa
Architecture in Helsinki (Saturday 1:44 PM)
Sufjan Stevens (Saturday 2:52 PM)
Neko Case (Saturday 5:10 PM)
The Tragically Hip (Saturday 7:07 PM)
The Shins (Saturday 8:41 PM)
Ben Harper (Saturday 9:35 PM)
The Flaming Lips (Saturday 12:25 PM)
Saturday 3:49 PM
Saturday 3:49 PM
Saturday 5:14 PM
Saturday 5:41 PM
Saturday 5:42 PM
Dusk Befalls The Gorge (Saturday 9:17 PM)
