I don’t really know what I want to write about today. I’m not feeling very creative and I’m pretty frustrated with a situation at work that I think is bullshit. I learned from one of my co-workers yesterday that her department and the marketing department made a big decision that will affect everyone in mine but they were directed not to inform us of it yet. She asked me not to say anything about the information, so I’m sitting on it for her sake. The urge to run it by my boss is pretty strong though, since if he doesn’t know about it I think he’d be pretty livid that the information is available and not being shared. It bugs the fuck out of me because I don’t think that’s the way you should treat people who on your team. If you’re considering an option that is going to make more work for an entire group of people, let them know so they can prepare. Anything else is inconsiderate, rude, and utter crap.
Speaking of work, I jumped through another hoop in the application process for a new position here; after turning in my made up portfolio I was sent a web copy “test”in which I had to come up with original copy for web advertisements/emails. It was really more of the same, though I felt the directions were unclear. Instead of just putting my replacement text into a word document I photoshopped the Greek out their examples and put my copy directly onto the photos. Hopefully they find that acceptable, because I really wasn’t sure how else to go about it. That’s what they get for not having specific instructions and vague examples.
I certainly have work to do if I’m going be writing for the fashion industry. It’s a way of creative thinking that I’m not used to. It’s a lot like writing poetry, albeit in an extremely minimalistic medium. It’s just the making the words speak to the product in a voice that wants her to wear our clothes in order to feel all those things she’s supposed to feel in them that’s different. “Her” and “she” refer to the customer in the women’s clothing retail business, if you aren’t aware.
I feel a little split about working for this company doing what I’m doing. Doing what I’m going to be doing if I get the new job even moreso. It’s like there are three parts of me, three internal perspectives. Two of them are in some kind of cold war in which they occasionally have marshmallow battles and pillow fights while the third watches as some kind of neutral observer without any particular stake and doesn’t care that the other two parts are at odd. The other parts of me are torn between the fact that I -do- like “fashion” while at the same time I highly dislike materialism in general, the inundation of commercials telling us to “buy, buy, buy”, and the so-called fashion industry. I’d say a good 80% of what I see in a cursory glance at fashion blogs or on the runway makes me want to retch. The fact that it looks like a necromancer animated the pieces in the Body Worlds art exhibit and draped them in designer clothes doesn’t help. Nor do the Bride of Frankenstein makeup and hairdos. Call me weird, but I just don’t really enjoy seeing living dead girls with bodies comparable to pre-teen boys draped in something that resembles clothing the way modern art resembles Da Vinci. Our company has the benefit of not succumbing to that crap, but still. . .
I do like clothes. I enjoy going shopping with my female friends and once upon a time out shopped one of my ex-girlfriends. (We were buying clothes for her for our Valentine’s date.) It’s a matter of imagination. How would such and such item look on someone I wanted to see it on. I have a vested interest there. That interest is limited, however. Put me in a Bed, Bath and Beyond or (worse) a Bath and Bodyworks and I’ll start yawning. Or dying, in the latter case. How women breathe in there I yet to figure out. Makes me want to break out one of those WWII gas masks. I have the same reaction to churches. Not the inability to breathe, the yawning. I blame it on being forced to sit through it when I was younger. . . I got to the point where I started to take novels and sit in the back. My mom was always shocked, but let me do it anyway. That’s neither here nor there, however. Well, maybe there. Kind of a dumb phrase, that one.
I guess you could say that my shopping preferences are tied to my aesthetic preferences. If it isn’t about making something look good, it’s not very interesting. I have similar problems with grocery shopping, actually. People say you should never go grocery shopping when you’re hungry. Doesn’t work for me, if I’m not hungry I won’t buy anything. Kind of defeats the purpose. Anyway, one can take that as an analogy for my other shopping interests, I suppose. If it doesn’t engage me or I don’t have some purpose driving me to look, what’s the point?
That’s probably one of the big differences between me and other men when it comes to shopping. Most men just want a woman naked. Me, I like a little variety, not to mention the pure artistic beauty of all that is woman. I want to spend some time admiring every layer. I like different perspectives. Stripping a woman down all the way every time, mentally or physically, is just boring. So hell yeah, let’s go shopping, dear. Let’s see how those contours, textures, cuts, colors accent what god gave you. Let’s dress you up, dress you down and enjoy every minute of all of it. And don’t forget the heels.
And a thousand words, goodnight.
-m0rg4n
Speaking of work, I jumped through another hoop in the application process for a new position here; after turning in my made up portfolio I was sent a web copy “test”in which I had to come up with original copy for web advertisements/emails. It was really more of the same, though I felt the directions were unclear. Instead of just putting my replacement text into a word document I photoshopped the Greek out their examples and put my copy directly onto the photos. Hopefully they find that acceptable, because I really wasn’t sure how else to go about it. That’s what they get for not having specific instructions and vague examples.
I certainly have work to do if I’m going be writing for the fashion industry. It’s a way of creative thinking that I’m not used to. It’s a lot like writing poetry, albeit in an extremely minimalistic medium. It’s just the making the words speak to the product in a voice that wants her to wear our clothes in order to feel all those things she’s supposed to feel in them that’s different. “Her” and “she” refer to the customer in the women’s clothing retail business, if you aren’t aware.
I feel a little split about working for this company doing what I’m doing. Doing what I’m going to be doing if I get the new job even moreso. It’s like there are three parts of me, three internal perspectives. Two of them are in some kind of cold war in which they occasionally have marshmallow battles and pillow fights while the third watches as some kind of neutral observer without any particular stake and doesn’t care that the other two parts are at odd. The other parts of me are torn between the fact that I -do- like “fashion” while at the same time I highly dislike materialism in general, the inundation of commercials telling us to “buy, buy, buy”, and the so-called fashion industry. I’d say a good 80% of what I see in a cursory glance at fashion blogs or on the runway makes me want to retch. The fact that it looks like a necromancer animated the pieces in the Body Worlds art exhibit and draped them in designer clothes doesn’t help. Nor do the Bride of Frankenstein makeup and hairdos. Call me weird, but I just don’t really enjoy seeing living dead girls with bodies comparable to pre-teen boys draped in something that resembles clothing the way modern art resembles Da Vinci. Our company has the benefit of not succumbing to that crap, but still. . .
I do like clothes. I enjoy going shopping with my female friends and once upon a time out shopped one of my ex-girlfriends. (We were buying clothes for her for our Valentine’s date.) It’s a matter of imagination. How would such and such item look on someone I wanted to see it on. I have a vested interest there. That interest is limited, however. Put me in a Bed, Bath and Beyond or (worse) a Bath and Bodyworks and I’ll start yawning. Or dying, in the latter case. How women breathe in there I yet to figure out. Makes me want to break out one of those WWII gas masks. I have the same reaction to churches. Not the inability to breathe, the yawning. I blame it on being forced to sit through it when I was younger. . . I got to the point where I started to take novels and sit in the back. My mom was always shocked, but let me do it anyway. That’s neither here nor there, however. Well, maybe there. Kind of a dumb phrase, that one.
I guess you could say that my shopping preferences are tied to my aesthetic preferences. If it isn’t about making something look good, it’s not very interesting. I have similar problems with grocery shopping, actually. People say you should never go grocery shopping when you’re hungry. Doesn’t work for me, if I’m not hungry I won’t buy anything. Kind of defeats the purpose. Anyway, one can take that as an analogy for my other shopping interests, I suppose. If it doesn’t engage me or I don’t have some purpose driving me to look, what’s the point?
That’s probably one of the big differences between me and other men when it comes to shopping. Most men just want a woman naked. Me, I like a little variety, not to mention the pure artistic beauty of all that is woman. I want to spend some time admiring every layer. I like different perspectives. Stripping a woman down all the way every time, mentally or physically, is just boring. So hell yeah, let’s go shopping, dear. Let’s see how those contours, textures, cuts, colors accent what god gave you. Let’s dress you up, dress you down and enjoy every minute of all of it. And don’t forget the heels.
And a thousand words, goodnight.
-m0rg4n
No comments:
Post a Comment