January 29, 2005

Thank You for That

Over coffee with a friend this afternoon I remarked that there was a local support group forming for adults with ADD.

"I mean, I know we joke about our attention spans, but do you think that might be it? I mean, is it possible that I really do officially have Attention Deficit Disorder?"

Pause.

"You have something," he replied.

This particular time, I didn't tell him to fuck himself, but I'm sure it was understood. And I'm sure that if he got that message through the ether he realized I meant it in the kindest possible way.

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Saturday's Alright for Angst

I've been depressed for two years, but this last month has been one of the worst in a long time.

I'm thinking of taking up smoking.

But I'd have to either allow my drapes to get all smokey, or go outdoors where, let's face it, it's just freezing cold. And by that I mean, it's 60 degrees fahrenheit.

Of course, if I continue to be this depressed for much longer, I'll be able to fit into those hip-hugger jeans hanging in the back of my closet. I mean, I won't be willing to go anywhere in them, but they'll fit.

And won't that be nice? I can lounge around in my skinny jeans, avoiding responsibility and trying to remember how to smoke without coughing.

It occurs to me that I'd make a superb 13-year-old girl. Except, you know, for the lines around my eyes.

Well, I finally found someone to turn me upside down,
And nail my feet up where my head should be.
If they had a King of Fools then I could wear that crown,
And you can all die laughing because I'll wear it proudly.

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January 09, 2005

So, I Need a Job.

Which means either a few more freelance clients or an actual staff positon. Send me a note at miss.attila AT gmail DOT com if you have any leads.

What I've been doing lately: fact-checking, copyediting, proofreading. (And some writing on the side.)

What I can do: coordination, juggling, research, writing. I'm pretty good at dealing with people. I have the full range of office skills (minus Powerpoint, which I could pick up quite quickly with a little help) and can use Mac and Windows machines.

What I've done: everything from an assistant/coordinator to a managing editor. I used to make the "maps" that determined where advertising and stories were placed within magazines. Called "page dummies" or "maquettes," these were like huge puzzles, because each advertiser had its rules for where its ad needed to be placed, but the magazine would also have its own rules—and frequently these conflicted. The overall effect had to be just right, as well.

What I'd like to do: either research/coordination, or another job in publishing—in print or online. (My print background is very heavy: I've done most jobs involved in putting out magazines, with the exceptions of sales and art direction. My online experience is limited to blogging, but I obviously know html and the general principles involved. I'd say that my computer skills are okay for a plain old human being, but low for a blogger. For instance, I've never actually written a computer program.)

Location: Anywhere in and around Pasadena and L.A. for a staff job, and I do proofreading/editing of books from my home (through the miracle of FedEx). So I can definitely telecommute if necessary.

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Samuel Beckett

"I can't go on, I'll go on."

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January 07, 2005

Okay.

I'm halfway out of the funk. I've even managed to do a constructive thing or two. So we'll be back to normal around here in no time—and then won't you be sorry? (Long posts that go nowhere, naval-gazing essays, silly observations . . . it'll be awful.)

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January 06, 2005

Also,

not eating will save me scads of money. After all, that's our second-largest monthly outlay. I'm be thin and rich. Yay!

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January 05, 2005

Well, There's That

I forwarded a post by another blogger—one I consider particularly clever—to a friend, who sent a missive back to the effect that it was quite an interesting little entry, but "why don't you all go out and get jobs?"

My plan: wait until he isn't looking, and spit in his drink sometime when he least expects it.

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Silver Linings

Just one more thing about my depression: right now, I'm about five pounds north of being able to fit into my hip-huggers.* If this thing continues for a few more days, I'll be able to wear 'em without any problem at all.


*Or, "jeans with a slight low-rise quality," to you young whippersnappers who are still experiencing all fashion trends the first time around. (I'm up to the second wave on everything.)

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The Beautiful Thing

. . . about being depressed/unhappy at this time of month is I'm absolutely sure it isn't hormones. After all, this is supposed to be the happy/horny era, and all I want to do is hide under the bed and weep.

This timing business is more important than you might imagine. After all, if I might be PMS-ing (and it's never that clear these days, as perimenopause sets in), I'm never certain whether I can trust my perceptions or not.

It's lovely to know that I can at least think clearly without physiological interference. Provided, of course, that I remember to eat a little, and that I manage to sleep.

It's the mind-body problem. Or, if you like, something akin to the observations of Raymond Chandler and Joan Didion about what happens to residents of Los Angeles during a Santa Ana wind. Except that it's all inside one human being, and the weather guy doesn't ever let you know.

Neither, these days, does the calendar.

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January 01, 2005

Conversation Re: Football

Attila Girl: How's the game going?

Attila Hub: Pretty good, actually.

Attila Girl: Why do those guys wear so much?

Attila Hub: Um . . . what?

Attila Girl: I mean, they've got these should pads and helmets and knee pads and everything. It really distorts the male form, you know.

Attila Hub: Well, you know, if they didn't wear the protective gear, they might get hurt. Matter of fact, they sometimes get hurt anyway.

Attila Girl: But, you know, if they wore outfits that showed a little more skin, people would watch these, um, these ball games. I mean, this could really be a popular sport.

[Commercial ends. Attila the Hub looks intently at the television, as if to suggest that this would be a good time for the conversation to end. Attila Girl goes sadly upstairs, feeling that her brilliant idea hasn't really been understood for the breakthrough it is.]

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