I’m a Jinius

“It is not the conviction that something will turn out well, but the certainty that something makes sense regardless of how it turns out.”- Voclav Havel, former Czech president

Sooooo remember how I didn’t show up for work on Friday?

Turns out that one of the senior level officials was furious that I was absent from work and that I didn’t call him directly. So I called him. I apologized for not contacting him directly and that it was a mistake.

His response?

“I control you. It is not up to you to decide when you can or can’t come to work.”

Jigga…WHAT? How did this suddenly turn into a scene from Sleeping With The Enemy?!?!

I tried to explain that I’ve been really stressed and overworked lately and that I just needed a day to recover.

His response?

“Everyone here is unhappy with your work. Take a survey. No one likes your performance here. You have no work ethic or professionalism.”

Yeah, this from a guy who once made me write a letter to his landlord explaining he couldn’t pay all of his rent.  He has also made me call his utility companies and dispute charges as well as make hotel reservation for him and his family. REAL PROFESSIONAL.

I even said to him: Look, I have done all this personal stuff for you, at least let me take the time to settle my own personal affairs today.

His response?

“You have to do what I tell you to do. Doing my personal affairs is part of your job. You get paid money for this.”

I don’t work for an American company so we don’t have the same office standards as American companies. In fact, we don’t even have basic standards for acting like a human being. We don’t have sick days or personal days. We don’t have a human resources to voice our concerns.  But given the fact that I’ve worked here for 8 years and only missed two days of work in the past year, I don’t think I deserved such a severe reaction.

So I wrote a Jerry Maguire type of email and sent it to all the senior officials at my office, including the head honcho. Mind you, I work in a company full of conservative men. Imagine Mad Men but without any hot Don Drapers. They still act like it’s the 1960s and think women should not talk back or write Jerry Maguire type of emails and send them to everyone in the office.

A little snippet from my email:

“That is why today’s comments severely hurt me. It saddens me that you choose to focus on one mistake I made today while failing to recognize my 8 years of loyalty to Company X. This makes me believe that my previous work was unappreciated and overlooked.

In respect to my professionalism, I am deeply sorry if you feel that I am lacking in this area. However, some of the senior officials here are also flawed. For instance, some of the officials have shown up to work under the influence of alcohol with completely red faces or have screamed at me for occasionally making an error at work. Is this professionalism? Is this proper work ethic?

I believe that we can only advance the goals of Company X if there is mutual respect at the office. The only way we can motivate our employees is through compassion not intimidation. The only way we can have a positive work environment is through listening not attacking.”

So I sent this to about twenty people and ONLY RECEIVED ONE RESPONSE.

He said: I’m on your side.

The fact that no one emailed me to say “hey, lets talk about this on Monday, I’m sorry you’re feeling this way” just confirms the fact that these people don’t care about things like personal respect or well-being. They just see you as someone to do all their menial tasks.

This morning I woke up with this huge knot in my stomach. I couldn’t believe I had sent that email. Life is not a Cameron Crowe movie. I really have no idea how I’m going to walk into work tomorrow. I have to act like a lion but I feel like a lamb.

So I walked around outside and tried to clear my head. I kept replaying what my trainer used to say to me: You’re a lot stronger than you think you are.

Granted, he was saying this while I was doing squat thrusts and holding ten pound dumb bells but I can transfer it to real life right???

So at the end of my walk I asked god to please send me a sign that I’m on the right path and that everything is going to be fine. Just any sign.

And right when I turned the corner to my apartment, I ran into an official from work. It was the one guy who said, “I’m on your side.”

Okay, so it wasn’t a monumental sign like a bolt of lightening or a sudden rainbow appearing in the sky–what do you think this is– a Cameron Crowe movie???– but it was still SOMETHING.

Anyway, we’ll see how it goes tomorrow. Maybe this is some kind of test. Maybe I’m supposed to prove that I can stand up for myself. Maybe I really am stronger than I think.

I’ll let you know if I still have a job tomorrow.

Spring is peeking her head in New York City. I guess that means Demeter and Persephone are reunited for a couple of months. Is that how the myth goes? I’m horrible. I wrote a college paper on that myth and its implications on feminism and now I can’t remember the plot. Verdict? Don’t send your kids to liberal arts colleges.

Anyway, spring time means…

1. Another excuse to drink rosaaaaaaay (preferably during the daaaaaaay)

2. Ballet flats instead of boots

3. Trench coats instead of heavy parkas

4. Meeting friends for dinner/ drinks and sitting in a restaurant with all the windows and doors open

5. Smoochies, smoochies, and, wait for it, more smoochies. Yes, spring is when I officially turn into a hoochie. In other seasons, I’m more of an undercover hoochie.

6.Walking around New York and bumping into at least five people you know. I swear, I have seen more people in the past five days than I have in the past five months. Where do people hide in the wintertime? The sewers???

7. Leaving work at 5 pm on the dot and using the excuse “Oh, I have a doctor’s appointment”. And by doctor, I mean “bartender”. And by appointment, I mean “happy hour”.

8. Letting your hair down, loosening a couple of buttons on your shirt, putting your hands in the air, and dancing to John Legend

9. Walking past construciton workers and giggling when they start hissing and hollering. Now that you’re approaching thirty, you start to appreciate– or at least find humor in– the cat calls.

10. The opening of the Brooklyn Flea in Fort Greene and those jumbo sized tacos that are large enough to fall in your crotch and good enough that you will still eat the stuff that falls there.

11. Listening to Little Joy non stop. This music makes my insides smile. I love Binki Shapiro’s voice. It has a twinge of honey with an undercurrent of melancholy. And of course, I love Fabrizio Moretti. Hummana. Hummana.

12. I should write music reviews!

13. No, I should not.

14. Oh, and happy early Easter. Let’s observe the death and resurrection of Jesus with pastel colored eggs and peeps candies. Because nothing shows respect like early morbid obesity.  So happy holy day. Or as Ludicrus would say: Happy hoe-liday.

The other day at work, someone asked me why I was smiling so much.
“You must be dating someone,” he said.
Nope.
“Then why are you smiling?”
I’m not sure.

I think most of us are generally happy people–or shiny happy people– but there are times when we like to hide ourselves in a quagmire of our own depression. I’ve always been more inspired by melancholy, heartache, and loneliness. The triple threat of writers. God forbid the day I fall in love because I might run out of material. Seriously, what the hell can you write about when you’re no longer angry at the world??? Where’s the humor in that???

But the upside to having a melancholic disposition is that you have to work harder at cultivating bright spots in your day. You make sure not to take things for granted.

For example, I walked by this little girl–she must have been two or three years old–playing with her golden retriever and trying to put a tennis ball in his mouth. And everytime she would stick the tennis ball in his mouth she would jump up and down, clap her hands, and laugh.

And I thought: Gee, is that all it takes? All you have to do is stick a ball in an animal’s mouth to feel joy?

And that’s when it hit me. You can have these moments of sheer joy by just going back to basics, Christina Aguilera style. It’s the little moments, like watching a father hold his daughter’s hand as they cross the street, getting ready for a night out with friends while John Legend is playing in the background, and watching a little girl torture her dog.

Just when I thought that I had lost my edge, that my incessant hatred for man was starting to ebb, that I had nothing left to do except scissor kick across the streets of Manhattan and sing:

I feel pretty
Oh, so pretty
I feel pretty and witty and BRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT.

Just when I was starting to feel a bright light shining inside of me…

I read this.

It’s a Vanity Fair “piece” by Kate Ahlborn, a recent Harvard grad, Upper East Side denizen, and Brooklyn neophyte. She also mentions in this “piece” that she wears Tory Burch flats aka shoes for people WHO HAVE NO SENSE OF STYLE AND NEED A BIG FAT LOGO TO TELL PEOPLE HOW MUCH MONEY THEY SPEND ON SHOES THAT LOOK LIKE LEATHER VOMIT.

Oh my god, the hate is just spewing out of me.

I…can’t…keep…it…down.

Here’s what she had to say. You can’t make this shit up. I wish you could!

“Somehow it happened that in all the years I’ve lived in New York City, I’d never been to Brooklyn. But when I heard that choreographer Noémie Lafrance had a new show opening in Williamsburg, I decided it was as good an occasion as any to venture beyond Manhattan for the first time.  I loved the music video she choreographed for Feist’s “1234” in 2007, and “Rapture”—her piece for aerialists staged on the side of a Frank Gehry building at Bard College—was undeniably awesome. So on Tuesday night, I boarded the L train (heading away from the West Village) and made my way to hipsterville.  I’d heard from my more global friends that Brooklyn is a charming borough inhabited by cool young families, gourmet cheese shops, and creative intellectuals.  It has parks!  And trees!  And slow walkers aren’t mowed down on the sidewalk! But I’m what you might call a bona fide Manhattanite. Or, to be more precise, a bona fide Upper East Sider. I’ve traveled the world, I said to myself—how exotic could Brooklyn really be?

Perhaps my tweed J. Crew jacket and Tory Burch ballet flats weren’t the best wardrobe choice for that day, but I overcame the fact that I was a total Williamsburg misfit and hoped my foreigner status wouldn’t be glaringly obvious to the natives. (It was.)  After narrowly escaping death by skateboard on the Bedford subway platform, I made my way to a rickety building in what felt to me like Brooklyn’s outer banks.  (It wasn’t.)”

Okay…

LET

ME

BREAK

IT

DOWN

FOR

YOU

1. Is Williamsburg even considered an edgy part of Brooklyn anymore? It has TASTI DELITE.

2. Are people still using the term hipsterville? Are we in 2005??? Oh my god. Please don’t tell me we’re in 2005!!!!!

3. Even people in my office have been to Williamsburg and they live in New Jersey and shop at Talbots.

4. Kate Ahlhorn deems herself a bonafide Manhattanite or, more appropriately, an Upper East Sider. Yes, the Upper East Side is just a bastion of New York culture. Afterall, the Upper East Side boasts such lovely offerings as: old people who smell like death, bars with names like “Redemption”, “Burrito Jacks”, “401 K”, and girls who wear Tory Burch flats because THEY HAVE NO STYLE.

Seriously, I want to take those TB logos and use them as ninja throwing stars.

Then she “critiques” the art performance and is disturbed by the size of the “theater” and the nudity in the performance. I apologize. I didn’t really retain anything she said because I was too busy stabbing pencils into my eyes.

She ends the piece with this jewel:

I left the rickety building slightly shaken up and eager to get back to Manhattan.  After this experience, I’m fairly certain that’s exactly where I belong.

No, you do not belong in Manhattan. You belong in a boarding school in Switzerland. Or a land that embraces people in Whory Burch flats. Ideally, a land with blind people.

Okay, calm down. I can’t get too incensed because I don’t want to overwork my sebaceous glands and get more acne. The last thing I need is to get more breakouts because of this piece!!!

But this “art critique”  reinforces why magazines like Vanity Fair are becoming obsolete and dying a painful, Tory Burchified death.

1. One would think that Vanity Fair writers would be dexterous with words or at least understand the nuances of art criticism, but this piece fails in both areas. I’ve seen better writing in a Chinese menu.

2. This city is teeming with so many talented, FEARLESS, and OPENMINDED writers who can weave humor, pathos, and insight into their writing yet they are often overlooked for writers like Ahlhorn. Vapid. Vain. Vanity Fair material.

3. And it just goes to show that as long as publications utilize homogeneous writers with no depth or insight, they will continue to churn out “pieces” that the heterogeneous population of America has no interest in reading. Instead, we use these pieces for internet flagellation.

Okay, I’m going to meditate now.

I feel pretty
Oh, so pretty
I feel pretty and witty and BRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT!!!!

1. So I dragged my ass out of my apartment to go to my favorite pilates class at NYSC only to arrive and find a substitute teacher. As you all know, I fully endorse reinforcing stereotypes–especially stereotypes about the way pilates instructors should look. They should be lean and willowy from all that stretching and corework, right? Well, my sub did not look like the typical pilates instructor. In fact, try to imagine a stereotypical pilates instructor and then imagine everything that is the opposite of that.  For starters, he was a dude. And for seconders, he looked like the cartoon character Mr. Incredible. And he looked pregnant. He looked like a pregnant Mr. Incredible.

2. Okay, so that’s mean, but how am I supposed to follow a pilates instructor who looks like he eats pilates instructors for breakfast???

3. I decided to stay and give the class a chance but I have this rule about gym classes: if I’m not sweating within 20 minutes of class then I’m wasting my time. 30 minutes had passed and all we did was raise our pelvises off the ground. I left my apartment for this??? I can lift my pelvis on the couch while watching the Real Housewives of New York!

4. So then I was confronted with the difficult task of discreetly leaving in the middle of the class. This was going to be difficult because I was in the very FRONT ROW. Note to self: Always stay in the back of the class in case you have to escape a fat pilates teacher.

5. So I just leave. Whatever, I pay NYSC enough of my money that I should be able to leave when I want. I decide to wait for an elliptical machine and end up waiting 15 minutes just to get on one. I love that you have to spend more time waiting for a machine than actually working out on one.

6. Some people have been asking what I eat on a skin diet that eschews meat, dairy, sugar, carbs, and you know, FOOD.  It’s very simple. I eat salmon, some salmon, oh, and wait for this…MORE SALMON.

7. I swear that eating all this salmon is turning me into a kodiak bear. Literally! Not only have I grown more facial hair but all I want to do is eat honey, hibernate, and attack humans.

8. Oh my god this woman in my office has been playing the same three songs off her computer for the past two weeks. I AM NOT EXAGGERATING.  How does this not drive her crazy? Because it is driving me BAT SHIT INSANE.

9. Would it be mean if I said: Yo, you need to start playing some new shit before I bust some skulls.

10. See–this is what is unfair about life. I am the one who has to feel bad for bringing this up when clearly SHE is the one who is at fault here. You would go mad too if all you heard all day was Kiss Me by Sixpence None the Richer, Closer by Neyo, and some random song from one of those Now That’s Music compilations.

11. On a random note, there is this guy who takes the same bus as me to work and I recognize him from a flight I took to Vegas last July and he was also on my return flight back to New York. Isn’t that just random? I think New York is a little like the island of LOST. You never know who you will run into again and you better be nice to them because they may try to torture you in a cell later.

12. During my esl class on Saturday, my class and I talked about the horrible shootings that happened at an immigration community center in Bighamton and I told my class that in case something like that happens here, we should have one of the tall students stand in front of the door while the rest of the students escape from the back window. The class doesn’t say anything. One student finally says, “No entiendo.”

Hmmm, I guess you know it’s a bad joke when you have to break it down like a Timbaland beat.

Break it break it break it

DOWN

13. On Sunday, I had the most INSANELY AMAZING cupcake from Babycakes. Or maybe it just tasted INSANELY AMAZING because I can’t remember the last time I had cupcakes. And you don’t have to feel that guilty about eating them because the cupcakes are sugar free and gluten free. I am now obsessed with them. OBSESSED. I just want to boil a rabbit in a pot–that’s how obsessed I am!!!!

1. Yesterday I was running to an elevator when the doors were about to close and the woman inside the elevator didn’t even bother to hold the door. She looked right at me and didn’t even flinch. At least do what I do and make a half hearted attempt to push the door open when, really, you can’t wait for the doors to shut in the person’s face!

2. I went to the deli and was about to buy this tiny bag of some quinoa bites that were supposed to be like granola but they were made of quinoa–who makes this stuff up???–and when the cashier rang the price it turned out to be $2.50. I’m sorry but I’m not paying $2.50 for something that looks it came out of a hamster’s ass. And I’m certainly not paying $2.50 for something that is masquerading around as granola when it is not. So I bought a banana instead. BORING.

3.On another note, my new favorite dinner to make that is cheap and healthy is an everything but the kitchen sink fried rice. I’m trying to watch my gluten intake so I just use a palmful of brown rice but add tons and tons of veggies like red peppers, cauliflower, brocoli, chickpeas, some chopped garlic, put it on really high heat and then add a couple of dashes of soy sauce. Then I top it off with some sliced avocado. I guess it’s more of a stir fry than fried rice but this is the jinius blog not Barefoot Contessa.

4. I had a doctor’s appointment yesterday and he told me that my pcos may be causing the sudden acne breakouts since the symptoms can worsen with stress and age. (You can read about my hilarious experience in finding out I had pcos here; and by hilarious I mean SEVERELY TRAUMATIZING) He prescribed some water pills that are supposed to suppress your male hormones. Yeah, apparently I have too much testosterone. That explains my disinterest in talking on the phone, my tendency to kick the washing machines in my building, and the dick in my pants.

1. Had my Newark class. As I walked down the hallway, one of the program officers came up to me and told me how the students loved the class. I almost cried. As treacly as it may sound, it is just a really nice feeling to know that you’re doing something positive that day. I may be the one ostensibly helping the class, but in truth, they are the ones helping me. Helping me stay off the streets!

2. Later that night, went to a house party in Brooklyn where they had homemade bbq ribs and velveeta mac n cheese. Detox what? It was the kind of house party that every house party should aspire to. An ample amount of cool and diverse people. A dearth of douchey ones. An abundance of booze. And did I mention they had RIBS AND MAC N CHEESE??? Afterwards, went to my friend’s place down the street where she made us the most delicious old fashioneds this side of Mad Men. Don Draper would be very proud. And then he would try to makeout.

3. My skin is shedding like a snake. At least the acne has finally subsided. I can’t tell if it was the elimination of dairy, meat, sugar, and caffeine or if it was the antibiotics or if it was the daily affirmations–yes, I actually started doing affirmations Stuart Smally style; don’t tell anyone! Oh, wait, I just told the world wide web, good thing no one reads this blog–or if it was this new ayurvedic skincare line that I started using called Pratima, but anyway, their collective efforts actually worked! I kinda like the idea of shedding the old skin and regenerating the new. I wholeheartedly encourage you all to get adult onset acne that forces you to abandon all narcissism and vanity in order to reveal your INNER BEAUTY. And by inner beauty, I mean GET A GOOD CONCEALER.

4. On another note, I’ve been thinking alot about JK Rowling’s Harvard commencement speech and how she extols the virtues of failure. By failing and hitting rock bottom, we can actually work towards building a strong foundation. She says that after rock bottom, you can’t go any lower. Actually, I beg to differ. After hitting rockbottom, you can hit sea level! But in all seriousness, when you think about how you need to fail in order to succeed, it makes chasing your dreams less daunting.

5. On Monday, I went to Comix to see Craig Baldo’s standup. I was pleasantly suprised to see that he’s really funny! (And I’m sure people really appreciate it when you confess that you didn’t know they had talent!) I admire people who can do standup because it takes alot of cojones to open yourself to an audience and then wait and see if your jokes go over well. I could never do stand up. I’m more of a sit down person. I like to sit down and write in front of the veil of a computer. And like many parts of my life, I prefer keeping a large distance between me and my audience. Love ya like a sister!

6. While waiting in line for tickets, there were these two girls behind me who acted like they hadn’t seen eachtother in so long. That’s because they kept saying: I haven’t seen you in so long! It’s so great to see you! Bish please, you just saw her at Sunday brunch! Girls love meeting up and then saying they haven’t seen eachother in forever. I think we keep repeating this because we have nothing else to say to eachother. I haven’t seen you in so long is really a fig leaf for “I can’t believe I have to see you again!”

7. While walking into my apartment building, I overheard these little kids screaming inside their apartment: “Oh my god! Oh my god!” And I started laughing. Whatever they were oh my god-ing about must have been pretty exciting.

8.Hope you guys have some oh my god moments today!

1. This is day five of my “detox”. I have not had any dairy, alcohol, meat or sugar. I caved and had a small cup of coffee the other day. This quitting caffeine thing is hard. I used to drink three cups a day and now I drink African rooibos tea. BORING. Strangely enough, I haven’t had any of my typical cravings for burgers, pizza, cake, or pasta. What’s happening? Am I dying???

2. I manage to appease my sugar cravings by swapping sugar with honey. And instead of eating cake for dessert I bake a sweet potato and then drizzle it with honey and cinnamon. Not only is it delish but it has antioxidants! I just love antioxidants and how they ANTAGONIZE oxidization in the body.

3. The skin has gotten better. The breakouts have ceased but now I have to repair the damage. It’s like HURRICANE KATRINA UP IN THIS PIECE.

4. It’s weird. I know it’s just acne and such a silly and vain thing to obsess over, and I am totally grateful that I’m not dealing with something truly challenging like a life threatening disease or a horrible accident or that thing that happened to that dude in Flowers for Algernon, but this skintifada has served as a wakeup call. That you should listen to your body and take time out for yourself. You’re supposed to treat your body like a temple and I was treating my body like the OTB–the kind where you see degenerates standing outside, smoking cigarrettes, and drinking Colt 45 at nine in the morning.

5. I think between pushing myself at work and pushing myself with the running, it was just too taxing. Yes, running is great for the mind and body but if all you do is run around all day anyway, maybe you need to complement that with something more relaxing. It’s all about balance. It’s all about the ying yang twins. Heeeeey.

6. Anyway, I’ve been scouring the internet for all these Eastern philosophies on skin and mental health. I figure that since I’m Eastern I should listen to my people and not the people who sell $200 antibiotics that wreak havoc on your skin. Gonna BUST SOME SKULLS over at Pfizer.

7. And one theory that comes up alot is that when you suppress your true self or have fear and anxiety about yourself, your skin reacts in the form of acne or eczema or whatever condition that requires cortisone and lots of self love. Additionally, if you suppress your creativity, your skin can react even more severely.

8. In that respect, I am embarking on a new project called “A blog entry a day, keeps the acne away.” (Name may be changed due to focus groups findings that readers are less inclined to read things with the word ACNE in the title.)

9. So if your friends ever complain about not having to do anything at work–okay, let’s be realistic, your friends probably don’t have jobs right now–or if they suffer from boredom through the day, then direct them to this friendly little blog. I promise lots of sociological observations of these beasts we call humans, daily updates of my adult onset acne, and the superflouous references to my bowels. You know, the stuff you write about when you’re not getting paid.