Perhaps You Were Premature in Being So Direct...

I really do appreciate that my boss was upfront with me and gave me fair warning regarding my terminal case of temporary employment. I also understand that employers usually wait to tell an employee that s/he is let go so they don't come down with a serous case of the Fuckits. 

Autofecalmeteorology

My boss, who I do like even if, as a manager, she's about as effective as Dan Quayle proctoring a spelling bee (yes, I cull completely untimely and unfunny jokes from my childhood. If you don't like it, gtfo), very kindly informed me that my contract will not be extended. I am done at the end of October.

"Were you just discussing some sort of life-altering fear of moths with one of your little Internet friends?"

Irrational fears are one of the freakiest little absurd joys of my life. I'm not generally a skittish person, but when I am, my reaction is pure and visceral.

Moths, for instance, are my insect nemesisesseseses.

Politics and Paranoia, or I Need an Isolation Chamber

I have come to the earth-shattering conclusion that I am truly, truly horrible at office politics. Anyone who knows me even a little probably understands this intrinsically. 

Most of my inability to play the politics of any given office setting is my misanthropic bent. However much my MA in human rights might belie the aforementioned assertion, the reality is I'm a cynic and misanthrope at heart, not because I hate people per se (or rather, the idea of people), but because I cannot reconcile their accompanying bullshit.

The New Deal

Honore Daumier: Baissez le rideau, la farce est jouee. (Lower the curtain, the farce is ended.)
In this case, it continues on in a new act.

As you can probably tell by the above picture, as well as the new look, title, and feel of this blog, I've done some serious housekeeping and I might also be obsessed with art deco styling (the latter is nothing new). And if you've popped in for a read in the last twenty-four hours, you've probably seen the awkward birthing process of this whole ordeal. Really, it was time for a change.

Individuality and Pinning It

or, I Am Such a Fucking Unique and Special Snowflake

One of the reasons I even remembered that I have a tattoo is because my friend Kat pointed out that my tattoo has a life of its own, largely on Pinterest. Kat's blog, Unbecoming, is fantastic and crafty and bookish and adorable and I highly recommend popping over if you have a chance, but she has a Pinterest account and my tattoo showed up on her feed one day. I don't have Pinterest, I think it is essentially the Internet equivalent of folding a fitted sheet, but that's neither here nor there. Kat asked, "Is it weird that I can recognize the back of you?" And I thought, "not really, I mean, my tattoo is unique..."