Thursday, December 16, 2004


there is frost on the grass in the precise outline of the shadows of the neighbors' trees and the fence on the other side of the lawn. The reason i can see lawn is i'm in foxtown; i've been here a number of days; i meant to, as a kind of respite. i screwed up with my employer in the glass place somehow; she's telling me my resume doesn't represent what i've done under her wing at the glass shop; from her perspective my listing the projects in which i took part "makes it look like you did the WHOLE project," and that's "misrepresenting yourself." i tried to explain that that wasn't what i intended to portray, by writing them as a simple list, and she quickly snapped back: "well that's what it looks like it's saying." there was no use trying to tell her that she was likely reading it with a bit of professional chauvanism and personal paranoia, so i merely said "ok" when she ordered me to change the wording on the resume. i left the place furious; it is so ugly to feel like you're being accused of something, and uglier to wonder whether that's IT with the glass shop, with that whole quadrant. How it was that she got a look at my resume in the first place was a matter of bizarre and unfortunate circumstances and mistakes; and at first i thought that the one lesson i had learned from the tangle was to keep my mouth shut. but now i'm not sure what the lesson is. to keep my documents to myself? to be more deeply judging of personalities? somehow i knew, as soon as i heard her message on my answering machine, by the very tone of her voice, saying "i want to talk to you about the application... and your resume," i knew that there was something that she wouldn't be able to be talked about with. i was thereafter avoiding the glass shop like the plague and resenting that i still had half-finished artworks of mine in there; in fact cursing the fact that i had anything that i *needed* to get out of there... i guess a second lesson is to not trust too many locations with important objects and belongings... it steamed me up so much when face to face with her, though; especially when i saw, that she was not going to be convinced that i wasn't deliberately trying to lie on my resume, and that she wasn't going to go to the effort of seeing it in a different light; but was going to insist that i act, that i change, that i respond because of this, whether or not i saw it. the very tone in which she said "you're misrepresenting yourself," perhaps you can imagine it, the very intention of getting under your skin and terrifying you into obeying, or guilt-tripping you into bending; seeking horror. i have been not in any mood to affect my affairs because of someone else's misreading of the law, or of the meaning of words that are supposedly concrete and universal, or of the way in which things are supposed to be done. i've had to sway because of other's paranoia far, FAR too many times in recent past, and i was so steamed and angry, standing there, just saying ambiguously "ok... ok... it's done... ok don't worry about it, it's done," in response to her ongoing accusations and orders to change the document, and also to the mild threat of not helping me if i needed her as a reference in the future, i didn't want to explain to her, although i maybe could have if i'd been in a different mood, that i *have* no single concrete resume, no one document i hand to everybody like you're supposed to have; because i have no one defined goal in terms of career i'm going for and also because most of the things i've done are useful as experience only to a very few of the jobs i'd ever be applying for... including all the projects at the glass shop... so telling me "you need to change your resume, i mean your master copy," is rather futile since there is none; there's a long list of notes and then i recreate a resume from it every time i need one... which maybe is a stupid way to go about it but you've no idea how chaotic my life has been, in every single aspect, including the job-search... but anyways i didn't feel like telling her all this; i just felt like i needed to get out of there, out of the way of fire, just get my crap and go... and so i just told her "ok, it's done," which caused only a bewildered look to appear on her face, and for her to repeat the request, but i repeated only my chosen answer. i didn't feel like making much sense. none of the world around me was making much sense. the gal's already laid me off, long ago; this was like dealing with a demon from the past, come back to life at random, even if the past wasn't that long ago. And, as i said before, i walk away from the place, exasperated, wanting so badly out of Limetown, far away from the tiny community, the high-strung tempers and the built-in paranoia, a consequence of having dreams constantly on the line. One day i'll go into a phase in which i'll learn every intellectual property law, and i'll have more than just a hunch when something's wrong. but not now, not yet; i've got something else to learn first...


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