CheekyMF! Rant: Face Value.

In this world, where every single person, it seems, can read between the lines, interpret body language, pick apart your tone and inflection, is face value meaningless?

I live life as a writer, whose main bread and butter is copy and ghost writing–I inherently live my life in a fairly duplicitous manner due to this occupation, so when I deal with people on a personal, real level, I try to be the opposite. I put forth an effort to always say only what I mean, no double speak or gorilla dust, if you will. When I do this though, I feel like my every utterance is subject to dissection, at will, by the world as a whole.

Am I the failure here? Is our society so used to expecting the lies that no one can be trusted to be speaking the truth at any moment?

I swear from the moment I walk out the door, I feel like I’m being constantly profiled. From my tone, to the length of pauses in between every word, to my body language, no longer are my words what carries the weight, it’s now the entire package. As someone who puts a fairly exhaustive amount of thought and effort into the words I choose, to think that I have to put on a performance for every single person I encounter simply to emphasize that the words I’m saying are what I actually mean, my mind has been blown. Seriously, little explosions allover my skull. Hair still sizzling. All that shit.

I’m averaging four hours of sleep a night. I’m exhausted as it is, and that’s just from trying like hell to make something of myself in an industry that requires no less than ALL of you. When I have a conversation with someone, I respect them enough to say exactly what I mean, regardless of what my tone or body language says. Perhaps the world can start to respect me enough to accept that.

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A Dude-Chick’s Manifesto

I’ve been struggling a lot lately. Guys I flirt with find me intimidating. Certainly not from my size or stature, (4 ft 11, tiny lil thing!), but from everything else. I can hold my own in a conversation about sports…I can drink a lot of dudes under the table….I’m not your average girly girl even though I like twirly dresses….so I present to you my work in progress–A Dude-Chick’s Manifesto:

I like basketball and baseball. Probably more than you. I played them as a child for the love, while you knew if you excelled, there was a slim possibility of you becoming a star, I knew there was NONE. Yet, I still played. Now I watch my teams not out of wanton lust for the finely tuned athlete’s body, but because I respect the game.

I will say “bro” and “dude” more than you.

I cuss not like a sailor, but like an Irishman. The difference is subtle but fucking Christ, you’ll know it when you see it.

Your fart and dick jokes don’t offend me, and if they’re funny, I will laugh.

Conversely, neither your farts, nor your dick offends me. I will also laugh at both..if they’re funny.

I wear dresses, I wear skirts. The only pants I wear are for playing ball. I’m a flirt, I like boys, I have an unhealthy obsession with both pink and sparkly things….

I’m a girl, I swear I am, complete with tits and a nice ass for a white girl….but I won’t be told I “can’t hang” with the boys any longer.

Oh, how they flirt.

OK, so let me preface by saying I’ve no idea where this post is inevitably going, but wtf…….

I made a comment the other day, about how I preferred shopping in the morning as it kept me away from the awkward “flirtations” from the night time staff at the pharmacy nearest me…and, well, the day I made that comment, I was over-charged by the very friendly older lady that I was referring to when I made the comment about the “flirtations”. (As in, she didn’t flirt with me, all the dudes at night did. Ha!)

So I guess the fact that all of these guys seemingly find me attractive enough to flirt with and therefore would NEVER ring my order up wrong….has me shopping at night.

And seriously checking my fucking make-up before I walk out the door….

Occupy.

I’m torn with the “Occupy” movement, I truly am. On one hand, I am an unemployed person, who sees the need for revolution, on the other hand, I am a child of the post hippy-era–which means, that I feel revolution brings about change, not peaceful protest.

If you look quite carefully, you will see that I was named after the wife of a Beatle….but I also have the last name of a very “Commercial” family. While I may not actually be a trust fund kid out of either of my infamous namesakes, I do tend to bear the responsibility of simply having my last name.

My entire life, people have expected me to be more than I am. Expected me to have some random trust fund in the ether. Expected me to have some wild business acumen that is simply not my style….a lot has been expected from me, not by my family, but by those who assume my family to include some rich publishers that we have long since been disassociated from…

Back to the point, I’m not coming from this opinion of the Occupy movement from the stance of an unemployed person or someone who shares a surname that dates back to the Plymouth days….I’m speaking simply as an American.

This generation is the first that has had to directly compete with our parents for jobs. Don’t believe me? My dad and I literally applied for the same job. Neither of us got it. A college grad with zero experience did. And was let go 6 months later and replaced by my dad. Nowhere in that equation was I even an option.

My resume includes middle management in a Fortune 500 company, upper management in a company based in the UK, upper management at a newspaper and an executive position at a State University, but I can’t get a fucking minimum wage job.

I’d call it a joke if I thought it was at all funny, but the countless hours I’ve spent freelancing to subsidize my meager existence really doesn’t call for laughs.

I’ve literally applied for jobs in EVERY MAJOR CITY WEST OF THE MISSISSIPPI. Again, not a joke. I have not received one single job offer. Over 16 months. I also feel that it needs to be said that in MY ENTIRE ADULT LIFE, I HAVE NEVER SOUGHT ASSISTANCE! Honestly, I’ve lived on 18 cent packets of ramen, but food stamps never crossed my mind. In all fairness, it’s good they didn’t, I’d have never qualified considering I don’t have kids….

My point here is this: Standing in one place, saying how you “want someone to forgive your college debt” doesn’t make me feel bad for you….nor does it make me want to join you.

I decided against college because even though I knew my first two years would be free….I didn’t feel like financing the last two.

I want a job. I’ve applied for many, but I don’t expect them to happen….and I really don’t think that “peacefully protesting” is going to make one magically appear…

Democracy, while in theory, could be self-sustaining, it doesn’t work when corporations are making the products elsewhere and distributing within the democracy. It all has to happen in-house. That’s how we created the “middle-class” and that’s genuinely the only way to sustain one.

But corporations don’t work that way….and occupying Zuccotti Park isn’t really going to do shit to change that fact. We either have to take our money away from them…which isn’t going to happen…I mean, honestly, are you willing to commit to not using any Apply products until they shift manufacture to the US? I don’t think I can….

Or…we have to be willing to fight them.

Personally, I’m getting to the point of the latter. Everything history has taught me is that democracy really doesn’t have a history past 200 years….we’re at 235 years and shit is starting to crumble………

Capitalism has failed us, and god help me, I would love to know what the next step for our country is, but I don’t…..I just know that personally….I’m struggling ten times more to keep myself afloat than when Rick Perry cost me my job 17 months ago….and I’m fucking tired of it.

But hanging out in a park isn’t the fucking answer.