On The Fly

Bad Worker: Secretary

Assistant/Secretary

The 9-5 has gotten Jen. Jen is a young secretary at a small business. Most of her days are filled with lazy hours of nothing. Some days she can be busy, maybe some hours but mainly she works hard for an accumulative 2 hours out of her 8-hour day work day. When she first started, she was a recent grad who didn’t know what she wanted so she applied to any joy with a salary. When she first started working, she was excited and naive. She thought that she could be the best secretary in the world. However, her boss wasn’t as keen to her ideas as much as she wanted him to be. He would tell her that her ideas were time-consuming or a waste of company time. He would tell her that it didn’t matter to update certain processes and make them electronic. He would tell her to stop imagining a system for employee lunch breaks because it has “always been done this way.”

Her first job experience was crushing. She just started to become bored and disillusioned with people and working. She started to be on her phone during business hours just to past the time. She would spend her days making playlists of her favorite music and buying things online. She increased her typing speed by 10 words per minute. After a while, she started to ignore decorating her space for the holidays because the boss did not seem to ever be in a holiday spirit nor did he celebrate major holidays. The office was small – 4 people other than her. She felt alone. Everyone was much older than her and did not seem to care about her life. She applied for jobs online that offered any type of benefits because the current position did not. She could not get another job because she was either over-qualified, under-qualified or just lived too far away. She felt stuck in a town that was in the middle of nowhere where there were no other jobs.

Months turned into years. She was bored. She tried online classes at work but every time she needed to test, something at work would always come up and she would get reprimanded for not doing work and just playing online. Either way, she did not know what she wanted to do with her life. Her interests would change almost as soon as she was ready to spend major cash on a path she wanted to pursue. She was worried. Why was she not able to be interested in something long enough to pursue it with hunger and motivation? Was she going to be stuck at this job forever?

End.

 

NOTES: Life is enough of an inspiration to this writing.

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The World Shows A Smile

Leonardo_da_Vinci_-_Mona_Lisa

That smile.

When the world shows a smile, you examine it. A smile can mean a lot of things nowadays. Kindness, happiness, deceit, a brave face, a fake face, a habit, or even at a dentist checkup… All types a smiles to be fluent in. But when the world shows you something intimate, it all but takes a second to figure things out. Is this a genuine smile or a fake smile? How can one tell the difference?

There is not way to tell the difference between the two without practice.

However, when the world shows a genuinely kind smile, it is foolish to look away. It’s the kind of smile that brightens your day. The kind of smile that makes to feel like there is good in the world. The kind of smile you have always deserved, but haven’t seen in a while.

In some countries, a smile is a sign of weakness. But I see it differently. A smile shows beauty and compassion as well as kindness and friendship. It is definitely a habit I show, even when the situation does not traditionally call for a smile. Should you regret a smile?

Health and happiness. Deceitful and fake. The world can show many smiles.

End.

NOTE: This post was inspired by Mike Shinoda and his Instagram account with photos of him smiling. Just wanted to mention how his smiles are awesome. I only wish to have that many photos of me in such a positive disposition. He seems so happy it is almost contagious. I want to believe that they are happy smiles… and I do.

Thanks Mike Shinoda.

Broken-Hearted

When a heart drops you never forget it.

It’s as painful and someone punching your “trusty” gut.

You see the warm, beating ticker turn ice cold,

And shatter into a million pieces, as it makes contact with the ground.

When you realize that your heart was beating for all the reasons you questioned,

You feel like a fool.

Broken Mind.

Broken Heart.

Ramadan For Bad Muslims – #OutcastMuslims

Go ahead and drink that sip of wine at your friend’s wedding.

Go ahead and have that convenient boyfriend.

Sure you can taste that pork belly- you always wanted to try it.

Hide the fact that you don’t fast from your family by keeping snacks in your room.

Why don’t you drink all that water and soda throughout the day- it IS summer.

Don’t you dare pray. It messes with your work and school schedule.

Divulge in sexual play. Why should you be prohibited to express what is natural?

Don’t go to the mosque. You are pretty sure the tight cliques still don’t notice your existence.

Ablution? More like a baby wipe bath in case you sweat too much after the gym.

Wear that skimpy outfit. You know it is only for self-esteem and breathable fabric on your skin.

 

You know the importance of Ramadan. You can see how it humbles people. You see how your family reacts to it. Work, food and people. Important things. Yet religion should help your world, but it does not quite fit in. You don’t see the importance of Islam in all the other 11 months throughout the year. You are not lucky enough to be a part of it due to constant alienation as a child. Your parents argue more and you don’t see a point in their marriage of verbal and physical abuse. Those 11 months have taught you that your family only picks and chooses the bad aspects the religion that gave you a negative opinion. YOU ARE AWARE of the benefits to a great home life with Islam. You have seen it done right at your friend’s house. However, the psychological issues of those close to you, are never going to be fixed. They truly believe that the religion is working for them, when in fact, they hide behind it in order to make it convenient to them, like children.

Parents are the gateway to opening social doors for you when you are young, especially in religion. They did not encourage our mingling with the other Muslim kids, because they were too overprotective. So I was an outcast. No one to have something in common with and no one to be friends with. So I found my own group of friends, happened to only be Christian friends, who will never know me in that respect. They did not understand and never will. I started to question what having a religion was if people from their church got them jobs, social understanding, connections, activities and any other help imaginable. I felt that it was unfair. It felt like I had no “community” in my life where people just wanted to help you without judgement. I was always on my own and confused in this respect.

The older I got, the more distant I got. The first thing to go was prayer. The next, Ramadan. The last, certain morals and values that only Muslims followed.

The feeling of feeling lost, will never go away. You feel like you are a betrayer to something that you have always known to be the truth. The truth became something you are not going to face. You become lost because you still entirely believe in God but the people have failed you.

You feel like no one will ever truly know your struggle. You feel like no one will every help you get back the important thing you once had. You feel like you don’t see the purpose of someone helping you to do so. You feel alone. You can’t speak up because Islamic hate comes from Muslims and non-Muslims alike. You tell them what you did and the non-Muslims cheer you on, but they will never relate. You tell them what happened and the Muslims will judge you and think you are a sinner. There is no help.

It is a special case of hate. It is a special case of outcast.

You just always feel alone.

Was this a choice?

Who knows…?

 

 

P.S. There is always this present hate. I hope that this special hate won’t be transferred to others reading this post. This is a post is about feeling lost, not to condemn religion. I would love to see solutions to my special case instead of hate.

 

Prompt #1: Strangers

Great stories often begin with the arrival of a a stranger. Have the stranger make a grand entrance and then take it from there.

The party started and there was already some disastrous little details that were not taken care of. The women were all wearing the wrong color. They were told to wear black and these particular women instead rebelled and wore every other shade of the spectrum. The men were all told to do the same, but they wore shiny suits of blue, green and gray. The music was a singer who was told to sing Sinatra and instead sang heavy metal lyrics in a 20s style. The food was all a worldwide disasterly array of over-the-top crackers and bland cheeses. The banquet hall was unswept, poorly lit and every chandalier was missing lightbulbs and glass pieces. The people were confused and giggling either over the poor planning or over their own wardrobe rebellion.

As everyone drank the over-iced punch and laughed, the double doors opened with a loud BANG. Everyone looked anxiously to toward the door and there stood an handsome man in a tuxedo and a woman in a long black dress. They stood there a second with a stare that pierced everyone in the room. The people gasped and made way as the couple walked towards the center of the hall. Their shoes made the only sound and it seemed like minutes were hours as they passed all the guilty faces of the guests. The woman was holding a baby which did not move. There in the center of the room, stood a pedestal, covered with red solo cups of the poor red drink. The man in black throws each cup onto the ground and wipes the surface clean of any dirt or dust. The woman in black places the baby onto cold marble delicately. The couple then walk out the doors and lock it shut behind them.

A party goer with a loud yellow dress examines the strange baby. “It’s dead!” She yells. Everyone looks at one another and cheer.

The last babe has died.

“Can I Lose Weight By Eating Costco Cheesecake?” A Poem of Facts.

I am addicted to you, oh so so good things.

Your cheesecakes, your milk chocolate. The happiness it brings,

Your white version Taco Bell, caramel apple empanadas,

Your salt and vinegar chips, more addictive than marijuana,

Your Cheesecake Factory five-cheese pasta satiates my palate,

Your coffee-flavored M&Ms that I had to get by submitting a ballot,

Your sugary Panda Express chow mein and your In-n-Out chocolate-vanilla shakes,

Your food just makes me have all kinds of sugar aches,

Your cheeseburgers! So warm to the touch,

Your Costco cheese pizza un-ruining my lunch.

So the moral is: Just eat whatever the heck you want!

No diet that can keep me away from my food confidant.

Don’t you dare try to change what I love,

And to answer your question that you typed in above,

No. It’s too addictive. It’s also high in sugar, carbs and fat,

But who cares?! Go away! I am so done with this silly chat.

A One-Sided Conversation With Myself

Every day is a struggle to find meaning and happiness in my life. A STRUGGLE. It does not mean that I actually do something about it, but just the opposite. I sometimes wonder why I am an idiot, TV addict. I was told by a stranger whom I respect that I just have to meditate on me. That’s dumb. I have psychoanalyzed the shit out out my mind and body as well as the people I know. Why should I just sit around and think some more? My main problem is just DOING. I don’t know how to DO. I don’t know if I ever did.

What incites my passion?

I like writing. But I am not as good at it as I would like to believe. Hell, I just taught myself to type properly only recently.

Get better.

What is this voice in my head that just said that? Oh yeah, THAT voice. That voice is dumb.

Psychology was never your passion. 

There is that voice again… Damn voice. You harsh. If you don’t already know, I have a B.A. in Psychology.

You love food to the point of an unhealthy obsession.

I know I know. Pick on the person who sleeps right after eating. I person willing to eat until she becomes broke.

Technology is interesting, but you are not logical enough nor willing to put in the hours to pursue it. 

This voice is saying things that make me upset. I have been seriously considering to learn to code. Why are you saying that? What happened to “Get better.”

You basically live in front of a screen watching your life away. To you, it is your happiness. 

No argument there.

What does food, TV and writing have in common?

Ugh. I am not gonna be an Anthony Bourdain, okay? I don’t give a shit about being a travel/food blogger. I don’t even like reviewing things on Yelp. How are these things supposed to set me on a path to a future? This voice does not know that I am an artsy person who thinks that getting into the arts will be horrible.

Will it? Or can you find another way other than the black and white way that you just described?

Uh… I am not sure…

You can still pursue anything other than modeling or sports, which you don’t want to do. Neuroplasticity is alive and well in your mind. You can easily go and pursue anything you have started but haven’t finished. I am just trying to guide your mind and passions. 

Yeah yeah. Save me the story, voice in my head. Dude I am just screwed up. I washed out Millennial with a semi-respectable job who refuses to believe that Human Resources is a college major. (I just thought that shit was learned on the job) I refuse to believe that there are jobs that required a college education in the past that are entry-level anyway. Hell, even the job I have now seems like any person eager for a job can do it. ANYONE. But I needed a degree for this shit. Colleges just seem like half of the on-the-job-training that I receive anyway. NO ONE knows what they really need to do and yet, the person with the flair, connections, extroverted personality and “relevant” degrees are the most valuable/most desirable people to hire.

We seem to have gotten off topic. What does TheHumanGirl want? 

I want a job that I can live off of that I can also be happy with doing. I want to be happy and not worry about money all that much. But here YOU ARE telling me to pursue an artsy fartsy passion that I KNOW will just make me a Millennial loser cliche. The jobs I have now at least pay my bills.

You need to be happy first. 

I know…

 

A Change in Life: Two Things

Do I like you? Do I know you? Do you know me? Do you like me? Do you know how I have been? I have been upset lately with the things I cannot control. I hate taxes. I hate rent. I hate that I don’t like my jobs. I hate everything it seems. When I come towards you, I don’t want to hate some more. I want to be happy. But happiness is only what you make it. Can I be sure that I will be taken care of? I don’t know. I just need to take care of myself and I cannot do so if I am in a cycle of sadness and constant stress. Stress is making me a different person and I can feel it changing me. A monster with a cape over its head. I am so stressed that I just want to go home and relax. But it doesn’t seem likely. I am so stressed that I have been apologizing for it all the time. I am so stressed, I can only think of my needs and that makes me more stressed when I forget to call someone or something. I just need you more than you can ever imagine. I want you here. I want you with me. I want to know that I am not going to be stressed forever. That I am not going to be the mama with the cash forever. I want to know if you know why I do what I do. If that is why I am the way I am. Understanding me is understanding my stress. Understanding my stress is understanding how to help me. Yes. It is just that difficult. Please don’t make it look easy. It just makes me more stressed.

I am thinking of moving in with someone I don’t really care for. My friend’s ex-boyfriend. Why? Because we both need an apartment because the landlady at my current house is a psycho. My friend (His Ex) is 100% okay with this. I don’t want to get close to this guy. He seems needy ever since the recent break-up, and albeit, very lonely. I need to find out if my boyfriend is okay with this. I have my reservations, but they are mostly monetary and car-related. I don’t want him to think that I am into him or anything. In fact, just the opposite. I just want out of this horrible house. I would rather get my own place, but I know that it would be more expensive, small, lonely and kinda scary. I feel like it should be cheaper for a one-room apartment or at least a studio in this town. With this guy, I can lock myself in my room. It would have its own bath!!! I wouldn’t have to share. I am worried. I just want my own space without the worry. Without the fear. Without the inconsiderate management that I have to talk to every day. If I ask, “How was your day?” she would respond, “Not so good.” I ask every day. What am I supposed to do with a response like that? I have tried everything to console her. But she runs herself in these circles of anger and despair and violence. She is starting to become passive aggressive which is the worst kind. I am a model tenant. At least treat me better than the convict… Sorry I have a life. Sorry I have two jobs. Sorry I have some money. Sorry you suck and are entitled, you crazy bitch. Act your age. Be the reasonable, responsible one. I hate always having to be that person. It’s stressful. I know that she would never change. I know that. I need to leave. Cheap rent isn’t worth this much anguish.

We Shared

We shared laughs together.

We shared tears together.

We shared similar interests together.

We shared food together.

We shared fear together.

We shared smiles together.

We shared pictures together.

We shared hate together.

We shared thoughts together.

We shared hugs and kisses together.

We shared ideas together.

We shared knowledge together.

We shared our different pasts together.

We shared moments together.

We shared intimacy together.

We just shared.