Parting is such sweet…

Posted by High Priestess Kang as Personal

…joy!!!

Am I happy about being unemployed again?  Not really.

Am I relieved to not have to get up tomorrow morning and drag myself into the quagmire?  Ohs yesses.

Jobs are a necessary evil.  They are also completely replaceable (not instantaneously, but eventually).  You cannot replace the time you lost from being too busy, too obligated, too occupied and too compromised.

Writing may not pay the bills but it certainly is worth its weight in gold when it comes to the emotional gratification.  Thank G-d I will no longer be far too busy or far too exhausted to tend to my baby.

A few days before my departure, my director challenged me to, “reflect.”  I have.  Oh…how I have.  Now, we’ll simply have to wait and see what happens when the High Priestess has had time to do exactly that.

Visit the Phorum for more General Blather (according to Kang)

I is Winnar!!!

Posted by High Priestess Kang as Personal

Lucky me! I spent a bulk of last week locked away in a class on Clean Sheeting. For those of you who are not procurement wonks, simply disregard the subject matter of the class. It only makes nerds like me bounce up and down like an excited kangaroo (no pun intended).

As I said, I really, really, really enjoyed the class. Normally, after day two or three, I’m ready to rip out the larynges of the instructors, scale the walls, swing from the ceiling and throw sharp objects around the room. Not this time. This time I found myself very much engaged, enthused and absorbing every bit of information I could like a sea sponge.

Further adding to my enjoyment is the fact that I IS WINNAR!

I never win anything. Never won during field day (elementary school), never won any sort of recognition awards (causing me to quit singing altogether after the eighth grade) and only scored one goal during my brief career as a lacrosse player. :sobs and wails: I have no trophy case to share. My parents, poor parents, had nothing to brag about.

Until Thursday. :raises eyebrows and grins:

Thursday, my thirty-six year losing streak came to an end.

I won - not one; but TWO awards. Little, old me. WINNAR.

The first award I won was for, “Most Participatory.” Again…I loved the subject matter. I loved learning a different way to look at how my job could be done more efficiently. I loved learning a little bit more about product development and cost. I loved - enough - I stop here.

The second award I won, along with my team - of which I was elected leader, was for the actual negotiation competition. A culmination of the week’s activities. This class has been taught for a year and a half. Apparently, the instructors had never seen my tactics, strategy, etc… executed in that class. Ever. Never, ever, ever.

After three weeks of brutal, unending hell at work, fighting to prove myself, fighting to show that I am worthy, fighting to show that I do lend value - in spite of my being a little eccentric, different, direct, what-have-you, I achieved the ultimate score to help soothe my bruised ego. I may operate a little differently from the norm but I can do my job. Successfully.

I don’t think of my victory as a, “take that oh ye who fails to understand me!” I think of my victory as something a little more intrinsic. I won. I broke a thirty-six year dry spell and I managed to gain reinforcement for something that I did know (but paid little attention to): I am good at what I do. I like what I do. I may not be perfect, but damn - I’m good.

Visit the Phorum for more General Blather (according to Kang)

The world…

Posted by High Priestess Kang as Personal

…has gone absolutely mad.

Thank G-d season 7 of the Gilmore Girls was released today.  I really need to engage in some serious escape-ism.

Visit the Phorum for more General Blather (according to Kang)

Failure to Communicate

Posted by High Priestess Kang as Personal

Apparently, I’m speaking in Rigellian.  Again.  For those of you unawares, Rigellian is my native language which sounds exactly like English.  The only snag is the fact that no one seems to have a clue as to what is coming from my mind - be it verbal or written.

I have spent a gruelling two weeks trying to convey messages to folks.  I am not successful.  Not in the least.  This leads me to wonder if I’m clinically bonkers, have a speech/writing impediment or if I’m utilizing too many of those snappy SAT words I’m so very fond of.  Either that or I’m a total moron who has, herself, failed reading comprehension (although, that was always my strongest subject in school).

What does it take to communicate with others?  Language skills are apparently not the ticket.  I know I have a strong ability to communicate.  Reading (on my part) cannot be the answer.  Again…that’s one of my fortes.  Body language.  Perhaps.  That is missing from a lot of my day to day communications with friends and colleagues.  Although, sometimes I think that is a blessing in disguise because most people cannot overlook their own egos to realize that an arched, left eyebrow is probably more of a reflection upon me and not them.

For shits and grins, I documented my day at work.  Most of my day has been spent on emails.  Communications to others where someone is missing the point.  Be it me…be it the recipient, I haven’t the slightest idea.  After all, when it comes to the written word and yours truly, how can anyone misinterpret what I write?  If I weren’t a marginally gifted writer, I could understand.  But let’s face it…when one’s hobby is writing, when one has been plagiarized, when one is typically anointed scribe of any group, how can the onus of written communication fall on my shoulders?  This…this I really fail to understand.

Further compounding my angst is the fact that I have been made fully aware of one’s utter scorn, contempt and disgust for me.  No…not the internets nutter cum numpty.  About a week ago, my perfect, little world, my otherwise happy existence came crashing in around me.  This might be a case where I was donning the rose-coloured glasses and trying to convince myself that everything was ok.  It certainly seemed that way given my interaction with the individual and the feedback I have received.  Unfortunately, all was either the greatest ruse known to man or I, the High Priestess Kang, am not intuitive.  I, High Priestess Kang, am a box of rocks.

So more drama for me to sift through.  Oh joy.

For six years I have done nothing but try to create a world of vanilla for myself.  Neither rocky road nor chocolate would do.  Vanilla.  Plain, nice, reliable, comforting vanilla.  There have been significant bumps in the road personally and professionally.  However, I keep reminding myself that my ultimate flavor to life should be vanilla.

Today, I’m beginning to realize this is not a possibility.

I have a polarizing personality.  One either loves me or hates me.  There is no middle ground.

Apparently, I’m a piss-poor communicator who should come equipped with a bag of Little Orphan Annie Secret Decoder rings to dispense to whomever I meet, regardless of situation.

I look at others and envy their breezy ways, their abilities to communicate and play well with others.  I’m green with envy.  I pine and long to be like them instead of like me.

Today.  Today I hate myself.

As I look at another career opportunity slowly dribble down the drain, I try to recognize what I could have done differently.  How differently I could have managed things.  How I could have been more intuitive.  There’s nothing.  Believe me, I have been focusing on nothing but for the past week and half.  And…this breaks my heart.  Makes me sadder than anyone can realize.  Because, at the end of the day, I need to reconcile the fact that I am failing.  Failing to communicate, failing to please, failing to live up to expectations (albeit predominately undefined in my most humble opinion).

The thing that hurts a hack-writer the most is discovering that they have failed to communicate in the written form.  It’s like taking a knife and puncturing the heart.  Slowly.  Repeatedly.  Until the very last drop of blood, until the last shred of soul has been carved from the writer’s body.

And who wins in the end?  The frustrated person on the other end of the argument? 

If that’s one’s idea of a prize, it’s rather odd.

Home!

Posted by High Priestess Kang as Personal

Home!

Left the hotel at 03.00 this morning.  Arrived at my front door at 15.00.

Feels weird hearing television in English.

More in a bit - once I settle down.  It was a most unusual experience, indeed.  Which can be mostly summed up with one word, “twitchy.”

To Torque & Cecelia - Regrettably I hadn’t a  moment to spare to shop.  I’m terribly sorry.

Packing is not LOL

Posted by High Priestess Kang as Personal

Gcccccccch.

The High Priestess is not known to be a light packer. I have far too many mood swings to limit myself to one pair of shoes and one handbag for an entire week (oddly enough…I manage to avoid most of my shoes and purses when they’re at the ready).

My Director issued an edict that there will be no checking of the baggage. Therefore, I must figure out a way to cram four days’ worth of clothing, shoes, purses, makeup and hair product into a carry on. The biggest fun was playing Tetris with these one ounce jars I purchased for the transport of liquids, gels and goos. I was most worried about the liquids and that turned out to be an easy fix. For some reason, I cannot get myself motivated enough to visit the closet and try to slap together a wardrobe involving two skirts and one pair of pants. So not looking forward to this exercise am I that I actually dragged myself bra shopping instead of packing.

So here I sit, in the den, listening to the Pogues and trying my hardest to avoid going into the bedroom where the mountains of shoes, skirts, sweaters and Spanxx await me. Anything to avoid the inevitable.

Well…off to pack. I have delayed long enough.

Mexico City - here I come. Please be kind to my digestive system and forgive me for not being able to locate a one ounce can of shaving cream. I promise that I will be wearing knee-high boots and dark hose.

By the by, have I mentioned that I’m utterly nervous and freaked out about meeting all of my coworkers?  I really hate having to meet people in person.  Being able to communicate via the written word is so much easier.  At least I can take my time and fashion a sentence well enough that I sound remotely intelligent, as opposed to having people fixate on my annoying giggle-cum-cackle.

Where I have been hiding…

Posted by High Priestess Kang as Personal

…under the blankets or under mountains of work. Take your pick.

In the event I haven’t bored you with the latest tale of woe, I have been suffering from a horrible ear infection. Six weeks of trying multiple antibiotics and visiting several doctors. All the while, finding myself (literally) deaf in the right ear. Oh joy. Unlike last year, when my tonsils were giving me fits, this has been sucking the life from me. Something about not being able to hear and being slightly disoriented does not make for much fun or good humor.

Compounding the pressure and the hell is a massive amount of work and a looming trip to Mexico City. The flight was the entire reason why I took serious action about my ear. Tomorrow, I shall be tubed. Like a child.

Not sure what it is about needing these pediatric procedures. I suppose I have the body of a six year old (to match the mind of a six year old).

Hopefully I shall return to writing, trolling, phoruming and Facebooking in the near future. The ideas swirling about my head are many. The ability to pain attention, on the other hand, not so great.

As for now, it’s me, a cat, a blanket, a pillow and a metric ton of Tylenol (no actual pain killers permitted so close to procedure).

What is wrong with us???

Posted by High Priestess Kang as Observations, Personal, The Think Tank

…or what isn’t wrong with us.

I have spent a good portion of the day pondering the commentary left in response to my, “It’s 1984 all over again” post (colleagues, management, etc… I spent a good part of the day pecking away at an RFP). Whilst, “misery makes company” I remain utterly confounded by the fact that this feeling of loathing and doom is shared by many accomplished, professional women. This begs the question, “What is wrong with us?”

Men do not appear to walk around with this secret shame, this fear of failure. Well…not overtly or not that they would ever admit to being a professional impostor, a fraud or an unwanted stuffy. There is a whiff of braggadocio as they saunter through the office, looking like King of Commerce, Lord of the Cubicle, Prince of Fluorescent Lighting, Master of the Blackberry. It may be acceptable for a man to fret when corporate right-sizing is announced, “How on earth am I to be strong like bull and provide for my barefoot and pregnant wife when I’m not earning any cabbage?” It is not, however, acceptable for men to walk around thinking, “Am I out of my league? Will I be exposed? Am I the Peter Principle personified?”

Or do they?

What components of our intrinsic nature make us women not only question our abilities, accomplishments and talents, but vocalize said wonderment? Studies have proven that women, much to the chagrin of men, do not chatter more than men. Although, we are more nurturing which may be the key in our fostering a safe forum for others to vent their spleens.

Who the phuck really knows.

Perhaps I’m not being fair to my male counterparts. Perhaps I’m creating the hackneyed tempest in a teapot in a feeble attempt to cope with my own flaws. Or…perhaps I’m on to something. It’s probably a combination of all of the previous statements. Whatever it is, I remain just as confused by the commentary of exceptionally accomplished women as I remain confused and stymied about my new job.

My friend, the economics whiz, whom I shall refer to as Adam Smith, suggested the, “Impostor Syndrome.” Adam Smith holds two degrees at the tender age of early 30s and is looking to pursue her MBA at a sub-Ivy. She is the embodiment of those women you really want to hate because not only are they truly gifted and talented, they’re nice. So nice that you cannot find it within yourself to hate them and you make sure your eyes and ears are open when in their company in the event that you might actually learn something.

Henrythepenguin, the self-made CFO, feels as if she is part of the unwanted stuffed animal club…group of professional misfits. Henry…the woman who has obtained everything through sheer determination, grit and mind-numbingly hard, hard work.

Not attempting to compare myself with the above, but I’m not exactly a professional slouch. Yes…I could apply myself a little more and not hide behind my, “artistic” temperament but even the worst boss of all time said, “When you’re on your game, there’s no one better.” He said that whilst gritting his teeth, mind you.

How much more validation do we need? From what source do we draw upon? Obviously, looking at sheepskins on the wall and beefy CVs certainly isn’t validation enough. Neither is a glowing review, a big fat raise nor a promotion.

I wonder if men really do suffer from a similar affliction. I wonder if my paragraph above was far too nasty and unfair. Or maybe men are simply preoccupied with the every fifteen second sexual thought? Or fishing. Or football. Or ball scratching.

Again. I’m being unfair. I’m being an ugly, jealous, green-eyed monster (instead of a red-eyed, green monster). I should never think of myself as suffering from penis envy. I do, however, find myself suffering from confidence envy.

This, among many other times (like dating, relationships, marriage, etc…), is one of those times where I wish I could infiltrate the male mind to gain a better understanding with respect to professional confidence. Perhaps they disguise their fears in different ways. Perhaps they fret in different ways.

Then they disappear to the bathroom for a quick wank (is it any wonder why males will not provide feedback to this post).

Alas…I’m off to exert my control through the almighty (or in the case of our currency, the alfeeble) dollar. Somewhere, out there, is a Diane von Furstenburg coat which needs to move into my closet.

I am a monument to vanity…

Posted by High Priestess Kang as Observations, Personal

Years ago, during sorority rush, the sisters of Kappa Theta Phi would engage in a silly, introduction exercise.  We would have to pick a word to describe ourselves that began with the same letter as your first name.  Given my horrible vanity, I was always, “Marnie = Mirror.”  Not as if I chose such a thing to be related to.  It simply happened that way.

Lately, I have found myself consumed with all things vapid and exceedingly unintellectual.  My internets time has been spent researching flat irons, cosmetic brushes, Spanx and cruelty free makeup.  When exhausted with the research, I spend my time trolling websites for new ideas for the wardrobe (I’m really growing tired of being a sweater and skirt girl…even if I manage to create a bit of an edge with some serious knee-high boots).  Failing all of that, I end up reading trash like TMZ or the Daily Mail.

The High Priestess is regressing.

This is annoying.

I was sincerely wishing that this phase would pass.  I spent most of the spring and summer months preoccupied with clothes and nail colour.  Manis and pedis.  As we enter into fall, I’m coming to the realization that my shallowness is not going anywhere soon.

Last night, in a feeble attempt to regenerate some brain cells, I attempted to read one of my writers’ workshop books.  The end result was my rolling my eyes at every suggestion, throwing the book across the room, smoking a cigarette and fiddling with my cuticles.

Not even the plight of those in Myanmar can save me now.

If only one could replace the spark plugs in the brain.  I wasn’t meant to be overly vain.  I wasn’t designed to focus only on the superficial.  Yet, here I am.  Overly consumed by my own ego and slightly frustrated by the fact that I haven’t managed a remotely intellectual thought in months.

Furthermore, I have come to the conclusion that everyone I work with thinks that I’m fluffy and giggly.  This was endearing and cute when I was younger.  As I am firmly in my mid-thirties, I think I should be evolving a bit. 

*raises eyebrow*

At this point in time, I suppose all I can do is ride this recent wave/trend of preoccupation and throw myself into more chick lit.  Not even Kurt Vonnegut can save me now.

Not so red…

Posted by High Priestess Kang as Personal

Yeah…I have grown tired of being ginger. Time to make a little change.

Unfortunately, we couldn’t take the color as dark as I had wanted without my looking like a goth chick. So…it’s mostly brown with red highlights (and my how Mr Sunshine brings out those highlights). As I keep going, it will get darker and darker and darker…

Ohs boys!

My eyes look green again! I should have done this ages ago.

I preferred this in black and white.

The usual look ~ a combination of chagrin and boredom.

The starry-eyed gaze of a girl dreaming of a world without prayer in school (and endless credit)