People might not be wishing the worst for you, but they certainly aren’t wishing you the best either. There’s something about bettering yourself that makes people uncomfortable and angry. People have no problem assuming what I’m incapable of without giving thought to all the things I’ve already accomplished. Or if they have, it’s dismissed with little regard.
I’ve wondered why it is that people want to think of me as lesser than, less intelligent, less of everything than they are. I’ve concluded it’s a combination of insecurity, social conditioning, and a lack of desire on their part. You can say what you want about progress. In my eyes it comes in many shapes and fails to become anything more than a concept, like most things.
Sometimes I wish people would just come out and say, “I’m supposed to be better than you. I’m not Black.” This goes unsaid, but it’s clear in the way people behave and how they speak. It’s evident in the opportunities that aren’t given, in the invitations that aren’t sent, the lack of consideration to the way you feel…I could go on.
I’m not writing with an emphasis on eloquence or a desire to be politically correct. I’m writing with the intent of transparency and making my thoughts clear for anyone reading. In the past year I’ve come up against some of the worst kinds of people. Racists, misogynists, people who can’t shake their own misery who desire to suck everyone into it like an inescapable void. That’s a pathetic kind of life, isn’t it.
It’s takes more courage to be generous and happy than it does to be hateful and injurious. While I have the propensity for forgiveness, I believe forgiveness isn’t warranted on all occasions, nor is it applicable. I don’t need apologies. I need for people to stop being trash.
If you’re like me or if you are human, then you’ve felt down on your luck before when it comes to job searching. We here at Poor Writers are always down on our luck when it comes to job searching, mainly because we are a blog driven by hopes and self-pity. Continue reading
More people need to read small press publications. There’s a whole world of literature and creative minds sitting in small, well-crafted books on magazine shelves around the country who are being neglected. Sure, it’s the age of the novel, but when isn’t it? Don’t you want to participate in a culture where oddball stories are valued, where avant-garde approaches to story structure and dialogue are applauded? Of course you do, but for those who need a little push, here are some reasons to coax you in the right direction.
Pop culture gleams with reality television like, Teen Mom, and best-selling shock value buys, like Fifty Shades of Grey. The Shakespearean downfalls due to drug addiction, family betrayals, and greed are enough to make our mouths water. We all know drama and exploitation sells big time and it’s easy to think back on childhood in all its perceived wholesomeness, but of course, the 90s and early 2000s came with their fair share of rubbish too. Jerry Springer, anyone? In a world where monetary value is the only thing of value, does socially conscious literature stand a chance?
Whether the story’s of the coming of age variety, or of one dancing on the cusp of madness, the newfound propensity to bask in the anguished undertow of another is getting a bit fatuous. Is this what it boils down to now, lots of salaciousness and lots more despair? Writers vetting for top sales and publicity via airing their dirty laundry to the world? Be it blogs, paperbacks, or vlogs, people everywhere are joining in on the my experience will make me loads of money bandwagon. Now I’m the first one to admit my love for the truly depressing (Jude The Obscure, Giovanni’s Room, anyone?), but the incessant publication of memoirs and celebrity sob stories (funny how they always come out at just the right time) is overkill.
Reading through the plethora of glossy titles Barnes & Noble has to offer got me thinking of my own experiences I could parlay into a bestseller.
Every now and then a feeling of absolute dread comes over me. I start with the I’m never getting a real job, never ever going to buy lovely Diane Von Furstenburg wrap dress, and always going to cry myself to sleep with my yellow lab Clyde licking tears from my face. It’s an inevitable feeling. One hellbent on crushing my soul and driving me towards Hershey’s Symphony bars, but then I figure “If this isn’t the perfect time to be a poor writer, when else would be?” When else would be? If you’re young, broke, and full of the postgraduate mopes, this is an excellent time to throw yourself into your work and make things happen. Inventiveness isn’t a thing of the past, but the way of the future.
My name is Georgette. I never heard if you were looking for a possible back-up dancer, but I figured that I should show my initiative and offer my services.
You might wonder as to why I am writing to you as my resume lacks certain dancing experience, but that’s why I am a perfect candidate, Beyoncé. Think of me as freshly fallen snow just waiting for you to mold into the perfect snowman with kick-ass gyrations and that flippy wrist thing you guys do when you perform Single Ladies. I practice that on my own while I Swiffer the apartment. I think I’m quite good, but I know that under your tutelage, I could be great.
Every now and then I have to remind myself to cut myself some slack. For the past year and change my motto has been If not writing, read. If not reading, write and I’m burning myself out. I’ve taken this as an opportunity to unwind and enjoy my down time by watching my favorite movies.
I tend to go for films with creative, yet sensitive characters who have a pension for offending people with their snappy, albeit curmudgeonly dispositions. I also love movies for aspects of cinematography, style, and mood even if the cast or plot falls short for me. I want to be invested in the feel of world in which the characters are living and evolving in. Here are some titles which may appeal to your poor writer sensibilities. Continue reading
First comes the handshake, then the birdlike head bobbing accompanied by the ever polite, “Hey, nice to me you. I already know you don’t give two damns what my name is, but hey, I’ll tell you anyway.” After that comes the big one, the sink or swim question that will either repel or encourage further conversation. “So what do you do?”
Generally speaking, most people couldn’t care less about your occupation unless A) He or she’s a gold digger, or B) They’re looking to do what you do (aka brown-nosing and/or networking). Throughout my life I’ve seen the pervasive image of artists meeting fellow artists as a meeting of the gods on Mount Olympus. Each artist overwhelmed having met someone on their level wearing beautifully banded olive leaves around their heads, keen on making the world a more bearable place, or tearing it to pieces through truth and enlightenment. To be a total debbie downer, this simply isn’t so. Continue reading
You know something? When you’re job hunting, not only do you feel like crap because you don’t have money to sustain your Oreo and coffee habit (this results in guilt), but you start to feel a bit down when you get no responses back.
It’s sort of like when you’re at a bar and when you walk up to that pretty dapper man over there, only to get turned down.
Just lots of times.
And in silence.
Potential employers just don’t need to contact you to let you know. The guy at the bar will at least talk politely to you (hopefully. If he’s a gentleman, at least). So after sending in resume after resume, you’re left to feeling like crap in the silence of your apartment as you mentally try to cheer yourself, because no one loves you and your Netflix is down.
In the midst of sending out tons of resumes this week, I realized that possible employers won’t see a lot of who I am from what I wrote. As a result I created this graphic resume, which I’ve been wanting to make since I saw it on Pinterest like a nerd.
And I figured, I’d list everything out that I feel pretty good about or would want to brag about, because there’s no room on a real resume for it.
What do you think? I’d hire me.
While this resume won’t work towards getting a career, it did help boost my sense of self for a good while. And I can always use it in that bar scenario, I suppose, just to give Mr. Dapper Man a better visual of Georgette.