It was six years ago today that I stepped off a bus, into a different province and a new job. It was like some sort of lame montage from that predictable, dime-a-dozen chick flick/drama that you'd never watch twice. Never the less, I jumped into my first full time employment, doing manual labour and other such menial tasks that you get minimum wage to do. The first day was a blur, like a hazy dream. All I can recall is that I sat there making springs all day long, because that's what someone told me to start doing, and I was so clueless about everything that I just kept on going.
And I kept working, blinked, and it was six years later. Somewhere along the way, I moved up in the world of sweeping floors and from taking things out of boxes and putting them in other boxes. I went from dabbling with the odd graphic design task to doing it as a primary position. At one point I made a few minor corrections on the website, and before I knew it, I was the go-to-guy for managing most of the online content. Instead of chipping in the odd idea for advertising, I seem to be heading up most marketing efforts, including evaluating donations and sponsorships. Now I'm a laser engraver technician of sorts, the content-writer most news posts, coder for newsletters, a non-coding developer for a new website, and... Other things, too. A far cry from winding springs all day. And through some truly bizarre twist of fate, I've found myself as the most senior employee.
And I think that's what really bothers me. Because I secretly have no idea what I'm doing. Well, I've dabbled in probably 70% of all areas within the company, so aside from The Bosses, I guess I technically should be capable, to some degree. And I won't lie, having people come to you with semi-significant questions or being asked for an opinion on something that's not directly under your control feels good. Really good. I like the idea that I have something valuable to contribute. But I'm not sure how much if it I deserve
This kind of became obvious this summer, though, when said The Bosses went on some summer vacation, and I was left as The Guy In Charge. Truth be told, the staff is wonderfully independent and capable, and I barely did anything managerial-like. But in those few cases where I had to jump in, what I did do didn't pan out so well. Not so say I burned down the building or made any big disasters, but some mistakes were made. I'm not sure how much of a success those two weeks as acting Big Cheese were, but it sure was a learning experience.
When I look around at my co-workers, I see a lot of talent and intelligence. Sure, I have more experience in a bunch of different categories, but I don't think I'm really the master of any of them. So I guess like any decent leadership, it's about trusting those that you're working with. It's just kind of tough to reconcile that I'm the one with most seniority, which (in theory) equals most capability.
It's also worth noting that while it was six years ago that I started working here, about only about 2/3 of that has been spent at full time. When I work part time during the school year, I miss out on a LOT. And that really drives me nuts, to walk in and do your important tasks, all the while having very little feel for what else is going on. There's more to it than a quick 15min meeting to see where everything is at - a big part of it is being able to feel and perceive the mood of the people around you. And that's something that's really hard to pick up on when you're working very limited hours.
So when it came time to choose my days off for Christmas, it didn't quite feel right to be told that I had first pick. By years of seniority and total logged hours, yeah, maybe there's some truth there. But I feel kinda bad taking that privilege when there are people around me that work just as hard as I do and have put in more hours over the last year.
There was a joke made last week, albeit a rather inappropriate one, where my boss mused that if I were to drop out of school, I could return to full time work and give the boot to the person that had been hired to take over most of my design and content management duties. Aside from the questionable act of joking about someone losing their job... I really don't like the idea that I'd get treatment like that above someone else. It just doesn't sit well with me. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad that I'm appreciated and they find I'm valuable enough that they want me back full time. It means a lot. But I don't like the idea that it may or may not come at one of my coworker's expense. Whether it be with wages, making decisions, performing roles or tasks, choosing holidays, or the job position itself... If it's interfering with someone else, it just doesn't feel right.
Maybe I still see myself as that doofus that stepped off a bus six years ago, with nothing more than a fistful of summer and temporary jobs under his belt. Seniority? What's that? Yeah, maybe I'll get some of this 'seniority stuff' one day when I'm a grown, serious adult that's been a part of the working world for a million years. The fact that I usually work part-time doesn't really help, convincing me that the time I do put in doesn't actually count.
I don't know. I feel like I'm rambling on about nothing, as I tend to do. I guess this whole seniority thing just feels foreign.
But yeah. Here's to six years.
-Cril
Celldweller - Through the Gates
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Saturday, November 19, 2011
And the Insult of the Year goes to...
So.
It's not often I get so thoroughly chewed out, especially by someone I'm close to. But that's where I found myself yesterday evening. I was sitting at my laptop, alone in the studio at the end of the day, when it happened and I was left wondering where the pit of my stomach had fallen to. Said chewing-out occurred over chat no less (which must truly be a sign of the times we live in). But let's rewind a moment, shall we?
The other night I was having a late-night discussion with a friend about some pretty personal kinda stuff, when it came time for me to spill out an opinion. Now, I'm going to say up front that everything I said had merit. The ideas were relevant and important. The way in which they were delivered, however, was not. In an impressive (and, quite frankly, rather disturbing) display of Total Jerkiness, I instantly became a Total Jerk. I have no excuses for this, really. I had determined the core ideas I wanted to say, sure, but they seemed to take on a life of their own once they reached the chat window (via my fingers via the brain, which may or may not be in proper working order). No one deserves to be ranted at like that. For whatever reason, I stopped talking to the person on the other end and started typing at them. As if each keystroke was a physical blow of some sort. I still haven't quite figured out why, but apparently I was going straight for the jugular. With such... Drive and such purpose. So fixated on going, with a total lack of thinking or observation. Like a drug. Surreal and terrible.
So as such things do, the conversation ended in an anti-climactic and emotionally-charged implosion.
And in the sleepless hours that followed, I immediately knew what I had done and that the damage had been made. But like I said - no excuses. None.
Back to sitting alone in the studio, in front of my laptop. Whisps of fresh snow were swimming around outside in the dark, and the temperature was right around Far Colder Than It Ever Should Be, Ever. How appropriate. I decided that I needed to do something, and I needed to put out the flames before the bridge was burned. The problem was that I had had waited too long and my pyrotechnics were far too thorough in the first place - the fires had long ago run their course, and all that was left at this point was embers and smoking remains.
And then I got what I deserved. After a couple of precise, unexpected (though they shouldn't have been), and rapid jabs, and before I figured out that I was the source of the damp red liquid that was starting to leak out from under my shirt, came the uppercut.
"To say it hurts is to say Nothing."
Now, there's a good sort of context that surrounds this kind of thing. Context that gives it a million times more weight than eight words, two capital letters and a period have any right to. And stuff like that I keep for a physical journal that I hide away in the corner of my room. So why even bother posting this at all, you ask? Perhaps so that my readership of one can appreciate it (mind you, on some occasions that figure has been known to temporarily double). Really, though, this is a way for me for sort it out in my brain, to inhale and keep it in and internalize it before I blow it out to the world. No one will read it, sure, but that's not what it's about. It creates the illusion that it's out of my hands, because I've tried my best to deal with it and figure it out before letting it go free to fly wherever it wants.
So no, there'll be no context or specifics. I know that this brand of insult could be interpreted one of a million ways, and only I happen to have the key that tells me which one fits. But that's for me and the person that dealt the blow.
Now, how would you respond to something like that? I mean, poetically, there's something in the way that Nothing is capitalized that makes the statement beautifully sharp, jagged, and poignant. But as far as I can tell, semantics and distractions aside, there's no elegant way to get around it and keep your hands clean. So here's your protip: Don't make enemies out of your friends. They're the ones that know how to attack your weak point for Massive Damage.
But through some twist I'm not even sure I understand, apparently there might be enough substance in the contorted, smoldering ruins of this bridge to build on again. I consider myself lucky, because I'm not so convinced that I deserve it.
So will this post bring the sweet cathartic release I've been craving, needing, for the last little while? No. Not even remotely. Something like that sticks with you. I'm not sure if there's any letting go of it, and even if you could, it'll most likely reach out grab a hold of you itself. So I've gotta deal with it. But that's the way these things go, right? And as much as I wish they would wither away and die, those stupid words I typed that one night will probably stick around and hold fast to the other person. I wish they wouldn't. I really wish they wouldn't. That notion feels worse than any Insult of the Year.
-Cril
Some things take so long
But how do I explain
When not too many people
Can see we're all the same
And because of all their tears
Their eyes can't hope to see
The beauty that surrounds them
Isn't it a pity
Isn't it a pity
Isn't is a shame
How we break each other's hearts
And cause each other pain
How we take each other's love
Without thinking anymore
Forgetting to give back
Isn't it a pity
George Harrison - Isn't it a Pity
It's not often I get so thoroughly chewed out, especially by someone I'm close to. But that's where I found myself yesterday evening. I was sitting at my laptop, alone in the studio at the end of the day, when it happened and I was left wondering where the pit of my stomach had fallen to. Said chewing-out occurred over chat no less (which must truly be a sign of the times we live in). But let's rewind a moment, shall we?
The other night I was having a late-night discussion with a friend about some pretty personal kinda stuff, when it came time for me to spill out an opinion. Now, I'm going to say up front that everything I said had merit. The ideas were relevant and important. The way in which they were delivered, however, was not. In an impressive (and, quite frankly, rather disturbing) display of Total Jerkiness, I instantly became a Total Jerk. I have no excuses for this, really. I had determined the core ideas I wanted to say, sure, but they seemed to take on a life of their own once they reached the chat window (via my fingers via the brain, which may or may not be in proper working order). No one deserves to be ranted at like that. For whatever reason, I stopped talking to the person on the other end and started typing at them. As if each keystroke was a physical blow of some sort. I still haven't quite figured out why, but apparently I was going straight for the jugular. With such... Drive and such purpose. So fixated on going, with a total lack of thinking or observation. Like a drug. Surreal and terrible.
So as such things do, the conversation ended in an anti-climactic and emotionally-charged implosion.
And in the sleepless hours that followed, I immediately knew what I had done and that the damage had been made. But like I said - no excuses. None.
Back to sitting alone in the studio, in front of my laptop. Whisps of fresh snow were swimming around outside in the dark, and the temperature was right around Far Colder Than It Ever Should Be, Ever. How appropriate. I decided that I needed to do something, and I needed to put out the flames before the bridge was burned. The problem was that I had had waited too long and my pyrotechnics were far too thorough in the first place - the fires had long ago run their course, and all that was left at this point was embers and smoking remains.
And then I got what I deserved. After a couple of precise, unexpected (though they shouldn't have been), and rapid jabs, and before I figured out that I was the source of the damp red liquid that was starting to leak out from under my shirt, came the uppercut.
"To say it hurts is to say Nothing."
Now, there's a good sort of context that surrounds this kind of thing. Context that gives it a million times more weight than eight words, two capital letters and a period have any right to. And stuff like that I keep for a physical journal that I hide away in the corner of my room. So why even bother posting this at all, you ask? Perhaps so that my readership of one can appreciate it (mind you, on some occasions that figure has been known to temporarily double). Really, though, this is a way for me for sort it out in my brain, to inhale and keep it in and internalize it before I blow it out to the world. No one will read it, sure, but that's not what it's about. It creates the illusion that it's out of my hands, because I've tried my best to deal with it and figure it out before letting it go free to fly wherever it wants.
So no, there'll be no context or specifics. I know that this brand of insult could be interpreted one of a million ways, and only I happen to have the key that tells me which one fits. But that's for me and the person that dealt the blow.
Now, how would you respond to something like that? I mean, poetically, there's something in the way that Nothing is capitalized that makes the statement beautifully sharp, jagged, and poignant. But as far as I can tell, semantics and distractions aside, there's no elegant way to get around it and keep your hands clean. So here's your protip: Don't make enemies out of your friends. They're the ones that know how to attack your weak point for Massive Damage.
But through some twist I'm not even sure I understand, apparently there might be enough substance in the contorted, smoldering ruins of this bridge to build on again. I consider myself lucky, because I'm not so convinced that I deserve it.
So will this post bring the sweet cathartic release I've been craving, needing, for the last little while? No. Not even remotely. Something like that sticks with you. I'm not sure if there's any letting go of it, and even if you could, it'll most likely reach out grab a hold of you itself. So I've gotta deal with it. But that's the way these things go, right? And as much as I wish they would wither away and die, those stupid words I typed that one night will probably stick around and hold fast to the other person. I wish they wouldn't. I really wish they wouldn't. That notion feels worse than any Insult of the Year.
-Cril
Some things take so long
But how do I explain
When not too many people
Can see we're all the same
And because of all their tears
Their eyes can't hope to see
The beauty that surrounds them
Isn't it a pity
Isn't it a pity
Isn't is a shame
How we break each other's hearts
And cause each other pain
How we take each other's love
Without thinking anymore
Forgetting to give back
Isn't it a pity
George Harrison - Isn't it a Pity
Saturday, November 12, 2011
To be a Crystalline
Heh. It's almost midnight already. I tried to sit down at 5:30 ish to do some homework, and I started to drift off at my desk. I figured I'd lay down for a half hour, and then get back at it. Instead I went down for three hours. Now I'm going to pay for it.
So last week I didn't get to make a post, which kinda bugged me. It was a pretty nasty week, though - I had three projects come due within five or six days. One of which, a MAJOR project for a package design, really came down to the wire. I don't think I got to bed before 1AM that entire week. I've never really cut a project that close before, consistently staying up so late to get it done on time. I think there was some poor time management on my part along the way, for sure. I figured it wouldn't be a problem to spend one evening out for my cousin's birthday, and spend another evening chatting into the wee hours of the morning with someone. I'm such an idiot. No excuses, no excuses.
Yeah, 5-6 hours of sleep is still pretty decent, I guess. But I don't function that well on less than 7. I prefer 8, if I can get it. Feels like it's been a bit of a downward spiral over the last week as my sleep deficit builds up and weighs me down. One of my coworkers mentioned that I had "dead, lifeless eyes" when I went into the office this week. That's me - a dead, soul-less zombie, bound to walk the earth for the length of his temporary existence.
On a bit of a whim, I went to figure drawing on campus on Wednesday. I finished tutoring went to the top floor to sit down and sketch for a while. I really can't say when the last time was that I was overcome by such a completely encompassing wave of serenity. I mean, yeah, the drawings were garbage. But after parking on that stool, busting out a 2B and 6B and plugging in my consciousness to some music... I just drew. It was wonderful. There was nothing else. And I've never really done figure drawing outside of class assignments before, and that lack of pressure really helped me to loosen up and relax. It was marvelous. So serene. What a perfect way to unwind after a crappy week. Time permitting, I hope I can keep attending each week.
In other news, it was Remembrance Day yesterday. So as I do every year, I watched the sixth episode of Band of Brothers. It really hits a chord with me, and I feel such a tangible sense of dread and horror and sacrifice. And at this point in the semester, where I've been so focused on work and school, how I'm so narrowly fixated and so completely switched off... That one episode is like taking a sledgehammer to my brain. I so wasn't prepared for it.
I have so much homework to do. Well, homework not so much. But other odds and ends I want to accomplish. I don't know if I'll manage to get everything in. Alas, I am on the last... four or five weeks of the semester. The final push begins, and there's sooo much to get through. Lots of big projects to tackle. I wish I had more spare time to draw and play some music. But really, everyone wishes they had more spare time. Maybe, perhaps, someday, I'll get a handful of my own.
-Cril
How does it feel like
to make it happen here?
How does it feel like
to breathe with everything?
How does it feel like
to let forever be?
How does it feel like
to spend a little lifetime sitting in the gutter?
Scream a symphony
How does it feel like
to be a crystalline?
How does it feel like
to spend a little lifetime sitting in the gutter?
Scream a symphony
Chemical Brothers - Let Forever Be
So last week I didn't get to make a post, which kinda bugged me. It was a pretty nasty week, though - I had three projects come due within five or six days. One of which, a MAJOR project for a package design, really came down to the wire. I don't think I got to bed before 1AM that entire week. I've never really cut a project that close before, consistently staying up so late to get it done on time. I think there was some poor time management on my part along the way, for sure. I figured it wouldn't be a problem to spend one evening out for my cousin's birthday, and spend another evening chatting into the wee hours of the morning with someone. I'm such an idiot. No excuses, no excuses.
Yeah, 5-6 hours of sleep is still pretty decent, I guess. But I don't function that well on less than 7. I prefer 8, if I can get it. Feels like it's been a bit of a downward spiral over the last week as my sleep deficit builds up and weighs me down. One of my coworkers mentioned that I had "dead, lifeless eyes" when I went into the office this week. That's me - a dead, soul-less zombie, bound to walk the earth for the length of his temporary existence.
On a bit of a whim, I went to figure drawing on campus on Wednesday. I finished tutoring went to the top floor to sit down and sketch for a while. I really can't say when the last time was that I was overcome by such a completely encompassing wave of serenity. I mean, yeah, the drawings were garbage. But after parking on that stool, busting out a 2B and 6B and plugging in my consciousness to some music... I just drew. It was wonderful. There was nothing else. And I've never really done figure drawing outside of class assignments before, and that lack of pressure really helped me to loosen up and relax. It was marvelous. So serene. What a perfect way to unwind after a crappy week. Time permitting, I hope I can keep attending each week.
In other news, it was Remembrance Day yesterday. So as I do every year, I watched the sixth episode of Band of Brothers. It really hits a chord with me, and I feel such a tangible sense of dread and horror and sacrifice. And at this point in the semester, where I've been so focused on work and school, how I'm so narrowly fixated and so completely switched off... That one episode is like taking a sledgehammer to my brain. I so wasn't prepared for it.
I have so much homework to do. Well, homework not so much. But other odds and ends I want to accomplish. I don't know if I'll manage to get everything in. Alas, I am on the last... four or five weeks of the semester. The final push begins, and there's sooo much to get through. Lots of big projects to tackle. I wish I had more spare time to draw and play some music. But really, everyone wishes they had more spare time. Maybe, perhaps, someday, I'll get a handful of my own.
-Cril
How does it feel like
to make it happen here?
How does it feel like
to breathe with everything?
How does it feel like
to let forever be?
How does it feel like
to spend a little lifetime sitting in the gutter?
Scream a symphony
How does it feel like
to be a crystalline?
How does it feel like
to spend a little lifetime sitting in the gutter?
Scream a symphony
Chemical Brothers - Let Forever Be
Wednesday, November 02, 2011
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