Practical Tips For Keeping Sane At Work

On the eve of my return to the office (after a week’s vacation), I am once again ready for the ennui.  I am predicting, possibly accurately, that there will be an insanely large pile of papers strewn over my desk, and a mound of paperwork waiting for me.  So be it.  I’m ready and well-rested for the challenge.  I think.

Anyhow, I figured I’d re-acquaint myself with some helpful tips to getting by at work.  I’ve probably had these ‘tips’ sitting around my desk for a couple of months and now seems to be the right time to let ‘em out!  Set them free!

1. Assume Nothing - Just because someone says that they delivered a message to a co-worker, don’t assume:  Double-check.  The old “ass out of you and me” phrase is still valid and applicable.  Besides, you don’t want to end up with egg on your face, do you?  Unless you enjoy that sort of thing, then it’s fair game.
2. CYA - (aka Cover Your Ass) People use these call-letters to represent backing yourself up, not backing yourself into a corner.  Save and store emails, confirm scheduled meetings, and rat on your co-workers.  Hey, all’s fair in…well, you know.
3. Be Loyal - You know that faithful puppy that comes up to you and licks your face when you come home?  Well, you are not required to do that.  Instead, hold up company policies, answer people’s questions with integrity, and be an all-around team player.  This is a converse concept: to be loyal to others you also have to be loyal to numero uno.  That means that if you see someone trying to step on your toes, you should approach them in a non-catty, professional way…even if you secretly wish them male-pattern baldness.
4. Be The Inside Gal / Guy - Not to be confused with a tattle-tale who keeps their friends close but their enemies closer…No one likes a professional eavesdropper.  Just prove your loyalty by behaving as any good strategist would.  Be forthright about business decisions that could affect people’s livelihoods.  This one’s a very delicate topic because most businesses value “company men / women” that get paid to maintain silence till death.  However, I am of the firm belief that sometimes secrets (unless benefitting you financially) isn’t worth selling your soul.  I really think that that is a big problem with current employment practices.  They overlook humanity replacing them with automatons.

Well, that’s all I got.  I’ll let you know if I was right about my desk-stack tomorrow.  Until then, my friends!

False Friends and Confusing Relations

I’d like to believe that I have a set of rules on being my friend that I’ve established from years of getting burned.  But every now and then, lurking in the shadows there are still the aura of false friends.  I say ‘lurking’ because it is often a subtle arrangement of behaviors that  you excuse in your good natured intent on gathering friends like a bouquet of flowers.  Sometimes, that bouquet smells sweet.  Sometimes it smells like trash and it hits you like a sucker punch.  Not to say that I am always a bad judge of chracter.  It’s just that these personalities can arise from out of nowhere to taunt you with their wiles. 

I’m not tormenting you

Blunt honesty is a double-edged sword and should be used sparingly.  Of course I want you to tell me if I have a booger sticking out of my nose or a huge stain on my blouse, that’s a given.  But if you go on rants that last for hours about how much I suck or revel in pointing out all of my flaws to me ad nauseum, then I’ve got to re-evaluate my friendship with you.  Friendship cannot be confused with working relationships with your colleagues.  This entry is solely talking about personal friendships that develop outside of that realm.  Sometimes friendships do stem from the workplace, but I am excluding that from this post.  That can be confusing in itself, but at least there’s already a common ground.  Nope, real friendships could evolve from your past or similar interests shared or school or a connection from another friend. 

Get Used To Disappointment

The real problem lies in loyalty.  Even the friends who have managed to ring true for years and years eventually end up failing you on some deep level that swears you off friendship forever.  Whew!  That’s a mouthful.  No need to doodle handlebar mustaches over Polaroids of them.  I think that disappointment is often synonymous with friendship and you’re either okay with that or not.  It’s much easier just to forgive and forget so long as the harm done to you didn’t involve romantic betrayal or something equally horrific.   Usually, the infraction is something that is easily rectified by talking things out or by ditching the friendship altogether (that is, so long as you aren’t forced to take the friend to People’s Court or anything).  

Dogs Truly Are Man’s Best Friend

Forget the idiots of the world.  Forget the people who try to put you down or the one’s that feign kindness while stabbing you in the heart.  We’re so over that.  Instead, settle for friends of the four-legged persuasion.  Canines are loyal and offer unconditional love, which is more than I can say for most humans.  So invest in a furry little critter that you can carry around in your handbag, wagging its tail at you in pure adoration.  There’s nothing like that feeling of pure appreciation that makes you feel like the goddess you truly are.  Unless of course, you’re like these two:

Now tell me they’re not up to something…

Exactly.

Shut Up & Speak Out

Post Live Earth and I’m feeling a bit…well, disappointed.  Probably the most important topic of our decade and we almost overlooked it.  Unless you’re addicted to entertainment news as I am, Live Earth was less than a Farm-Aid, We-Are-The-World, Woodstock blip on the solar radar.  It was just, “Eh”.  And hello, Al Gore?  Hi, I’m going to half-ass organize this shotgun promotion of this important issue and my last name rhymes with Bore.  Ho-hum.  But as far as the star power, it couldn’t be beat even though most of the more interesting acts seemed to come from…dare I say it…London.  There.  Now I feel better.  That’s right folks.  The overseas got the best seats and probably promoted this concert better.  And what was with that Live Earth from New York City lie?  Thankfully, the fact didn’t escape most of the recording artists who gave the nod to New Jersey since that’s where the Giants Stadium is located.  New Jersey.  So not New York.  They’re separated by a river people–ok?  That’s like calling Afghanistan, Iraq.  Get it right!

So yeah there were some memorable performances, but the goods gotta go to the Brits who had Madonna AND the Red Hot Chili Peppers on their bill.  New Jersey was a little more folksy and lackluster with KT Turnstall and John Mayer.  Nobody dressed up.  Everybody wore like recycled newspapers and rubber tires, all trying to be humble and less chic than they know how.  There were old timers like Pink Floyd, Genesis, Duran Duran and The Police.  There were new timers like Shakira, Corrine Bailey Rae (and I so had to look that up right now that’s how out of touch I am with the modern scene), and Kelly Clarkson (despite the recent bad press). 

And hello, Australia! Toni Collette–probably best known for her performance as Cole’s mom in The Sixth Sense performed with her band and every song was, um…er…to put it kindly, worse than the one that preceded it.  So sorry.  I really wanted to like it.  I really did. 

But wait a minute…despite the laundry-list of celebrities wasn’t there an actual point to all of this?  This brave new world is no longer the Mtv generation any longer.  Those were the days, eh?  The 80s?  Well, now it’s i-pods and i-phones and e-learning.  What is anybody really learning about the information superhighway?  Nothing.  Not even the U2 experiment Zoo-tv is tuned into anything other than Paris Hilton snippets and U-tube clips.  Terminology overload and call letters for everything and endless Top-100, Top-50, Top-whatever listings don’t help.  Data overload.  Danger, danger!  Can not compute.  No one is paying attention to the message.  We’re waiting on the world to change.  But didn’t we learn in the 80s that we are the world, we are the children?  All those Public Service Announcements and Afterschool Specials are lost on the new Attention Deficit masses trying to keep up with their email.  I mean, will using both sides of recycled paper really mean anything if only a scattered few participate?  Will brushing your teeth in the shower really reverse the global warming process?  Puh-lease.  I think that as optimistic as we present ourselves; a uniform conglomerate constituency of able-bodied red-blooded Americans, we really are nothing short of human.  H-U-M-A-N.  We’re not an integrated bunch of kumbaya hippies spouting free love, passing out daisies.  No, sir.  We’re like, ordinary earnest idiots who would rather pay the admission price to go to a concert than drink tap water.  What…NO EVIAN???  We’ve become simple-minded enthusiasts of the convenience model. 

“Let them eat cake!”

American: “Not if there isn’t a Starbucks right around the corner…” 

“Don’t stop until we see the whites of their eyes!”

American: “And their Orbit smiles!”

We want it now, bigger, longer, available 24×7x365, in high-def whenever our itchy little hands feel a need.  We are the Consumer Nation.  United We Stand to cheer at a concert no matter who the victim is.  Unfortunately, we won’t feel the burn until our skin is crisp and charcoal black, and even then, there’ll be some idiot out there applying Crisco-thick suntanning lotion enjoying the killer UV-rays, dude.

Independence Day

So today it was Independence Day and unlike the movie, there were fireworks in lieu of a White House explosion.  Except these days, I guess a White House explosion would be more interesting (preferably with GW Bush in it). 

So I walked the dogs and then I watched the fireworks across the water.  Some loonies joined me, clapping through the silence, yelling random things like: “Woo Hoo!  America!!!” and “Yeah!  Independence!”  I figured that they were just probably alcoholics who’ll hoot at anything just because.  Turns out, I was right.  Yea me!

Truthfully, I can’t even understand the symbolism behind literal bombs bursting in air.  I don’t get most holiday symbolism, but well, I guess that’s just what holidays are all about.  It doesn’t matter that the true meaning behind the celebratory symbols have long since been obcured or worse, forgotten.  But without traditions what would these any of the following mean: Easter eggs, fat men in red suits yelling, “Ho, Ho, Ho!” and giant turkeys wearing Pilgrim garb?  Alone, these are just a set of oddball things.  It’s the holidays that give each of these meaning. 

So air pollution be damned!  Let’s raise the flag and watch those sparkly fireworks displays until we’re red, white and blue in the face.  What are you, un-American?

Old MeMa Was A Merry Ole Sole and A Merry Ole Sole Was She

When one feels old, there isn’t much that one can do to break the slump.  There really is only one way out and that is to feel your way through the experience, dark as it may be, and hurtle yourself forward until you reach the light.  Call it enlightenment, call it the summit, call it success.  It kind of reminds me of an old Twilight Zone episode where a series of dolls donated to the Salvation Army–unaware that they are dolls, of course–trying to find their way out of a cylindrical bin that they believe is the way to freedom.  It always gets me to thinking that the universe is full of these instances where one becomes aware, on many levels, of one’s position in the universe.  That’s a very Existentialist view, but it’s still valid.  For example,  every human being in the world right now is struggling through their various forms of problems, complaints, troubles, issues, addictions, worries, and depressions.  These are numerous complexities that coincide with the nature of being human.  But what sets us apart from other animals is our ability to cope and persevere from these.  We reason, we finagle, we adjust, we rationalize; otherwise, we perish. 

Older And Wiser

Strength is becoming a familiar friend that I have gotten to know well. For my young age, I have lived lifetimes.  But I can in no way believe with certainty that all is lost…because it isn’t.  I think I’ve handled it all quite well, considering.  The natural solution to most of my problems has been my age.  As I get older, I get more and more sage-like in my convictions.  I grow interested in elder’s views and incorporate their ideas into my final conclusions.  This is a methodical process, I think.  Oh sure, there are times when I throw caution to the wind and say, “Fuck it”.  But I don’t always think that this approach gets the best results. 

It Ain’t So Bad 

But one must never fool oneself into believing that yours is the worst life ever lived.  That’s simply not true.  Some lives are worse than others.  It is the same with aging, I suppose.  I may feel older than my years but many of my likes and habits lean toward ye old.  I call this nostalgia, but others just think I’m funny when I used worn terminology or antique phrases to describe things.  Since I’m a lover of the list, I thought I’d get into some of my faves:

1. “You’re such a card!”
2. “Don’t be such a fuddy-duddy!”
3. “Let’s cut a rug!”
4. “Lator, Gator!”
5. “What?!  No petrol?”
6. “Gimme some skin.”
7. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”
8. “Make like a tree and leave.”
9. “Hustle in the bustle.”
10. “Hey, don’t you be no square.”

I know, I know.  Some of these are extremely corny and must be used very sparingly.  It’s still not going to limit me in any way because I naturally speak this way.  I mean I should’ve been some sort of beatnik or hucklebuck or flapper or some other weird phase from history.  I would’ve made out.  Really, I would’ve.  Honest.  That, or I would’ve made the Brady Bunch lost episodes where Marcia and I go to our senior prom spouting “Golly Gee”-isms to eager classmates.  I may not make it to Prom Queen, but dammit, I’m making it to the popular club!!!  What the heck am I talking about?  I dunno.  I lost my train of thought somewhere. 

What Does ‘Happy’ Look Like?

If Happy were a color, it’d be yellow.  If Happy were a band, it’d be Hansen.  If Happy were a movie, it’d be Happy Gilmore.  Happy for everyone has its own face, has its own smile.  That’s the place where merriness comes in.  The warm feeling you get at Christmastime say, or on your birthday.  That’s why I feel blessed to know and have known the feeling, even if I can’t always have it all of the time.  Like my Dad used to paraphrase from a Rolling Stones song, “You can’t always get what you want but if you try sometimes you’ll find you get what you need.” 

My Conversation With My Favorite Author, Anne Rice:

I really hate to brag, but I have officially been exchanging emails with the divine Miss Anne Rice.  That’s right, my literary idol, the Queen of the Damned herself, author of the Vampire Chronicles and The MayFair Witches.  I’m a huge fan and thought it was cool that she (or, her assistant–doesn’t really matter) took the time to write back to me.  It’s absolutely awesome.  So, here it is (in its entirety).  Oh yeah, and we’re on a first-name basis now. We’re like, thisclose.  Go ahead and envy me.  It’s totally ok.

Date:	Mon, 18 Jun 2007 13:35:16 -0700
From:	“Anne; Website: Anne Rice.com”
To:	“Lisa Perez” <honeyandy305@yahoo.com>
Subject:	Editors and editors

Thanks.  I’m sorry if I sounded impatient.  The “editing” question has
become so distorted.  The copy editors and proof readers at respectable
houses do go over these books exhaustively; and it’s not uncommon to
have them calling right up to pub time with questions about punctuation,
spelling, etc.  They try to catch other things…like — when a
characters “stands up” twice in a scene or when some one’s hair is described
as the wrong color.  They work like dogs on all this, and authors do
too.  —–  The one thing they do not do is: they don’t rewrite the
books.  —-  They’re not allowed to do this.  —-  In more commercial
publishing, sometimes a staff of people does re-write material; but
usually such people would never publish books such as mine.  I’m far too
eccentric and too literary for that kind of publishing house.  They would
have “edited” Lestat right out of existence.  —- My publisher does
not do routine commercial fiction.  —-  Another place where editors
change everything is in commercial magazines; that’s why most everything
in Time or Newsweek or People sounds as if it were written by the same
person.  Editors “smooth it out.”  —- Anyway, thanks for listening.
  Anne. 
On Sunday, June 17, 2007, at 05:56PM
 >Wow!  I’m so excited that you responded.
>It’s cool.  I admit that I’m a lowly novice and all in
>the world of editing. 
>Thanks again for responding and giving me a forum to
>voice my opinions in the first place.
>
>YOU ARE WAY COOL!
>
~MeMa
>
>— “Anne; Website: Anne Rice.com”

>> Thanks for your opinion.  Numerous editors review
>> every manuscript published by Knopf.  Proof readers
>> go over the original manuscript, over the galleys,
>> over the page proofs, yet still some how errors
>> survive this process. Some are corrected when a book
>> is reissued.  — It would be a good idea if those
>> of you who are concerned about “editing” would learn
>> a little more about editing and how it works in
>> American publishing.  It’s a vast subject, but you
>> do see to lack even the basic understanding of how
>> books are edited for publication in America and in
>> England.  I have published thoughts on this process
>> on my website from time to time.  —  Thanks again
>> for your response. Anne Rice. 
>> On Saturday, June 16, 2007, at 07:53PM

>>
>> >Dear Mrs. Rice:
>> >
>> >In a person’s natural progression in life, one has
>> a
>> >tendency to move away from youthful frivolity and
>> into
>> >its second-phase which is more internal, personal.
>> >Having been a fan of the former, it was difficult
>> for
>> >me to embrace the Christ the Lord the novel.  I
>> wanted
>> >to like it but found myself annoyed that the
>> Greatest
>> >Story Ever Told left me so…well, wanting.
>> Perhaps
>> >that was the mood that you were going for.  But, I
>> >know that there are Dead Sea Scrolls out there that
>> >are offering all sorts of conflicting views about
>> the
>> >Son of God that are deliciously tempting to be
>> >deconstructed in narrative. 
>> >
>> >I was anticipating the wisdom in that voice of the
>> >precocious child so like Mona.  Unfortunately, I
>> >didn’t relate to Christ as a boy the way I thought
>> I
>> >was going to.  The tedium of reading the history
>> >behind His early years made me feel somewhat
>> >disconnected and the scene where he raises his
>> friend
>> >from the dead didn’t manage to engage me the way
>> that
>> >the scene with Lestat being brought back to life
>> did.
>> >To be honest, it fell flat for me.  I was even
>> moved
>> >to blog about it.  You’re welcome to read it, or
>> not:
>> >
>>
Anne Rice Critique
>> >Anyhow, I still remain a loyal fan and am hoping
>> that
>> >all of this soul-searching will indeed offer some
>> >solace that will translate in your future work.  I
>> >myself grow tired of my own renderings but always
>> >value writers like yourself with so many novels
>> under
>> >her belt (no small feat). 
>> >
>> >Sincerely,
>> >
>> MeMa