I'm so frustrated with work rn
so, the situation is as follows: I have hourly targets to hit for productivity. we are supposed to start tidying up no sooner than 5 minutes before clock-off time.
yesterday, I finished my targets a little early and started tidying up 10 minutes before clock-off time. no problem, right?
the problem: supervisor saw me and another guy tidying up "too early" and decided that must mean we hadn't managed to hit out target, because targets are supposed to be tailored pretty much to the minute (impossible, but w/e) so he docked us on our targets for starting to tidy too early.
so now I'm torn. do I smash every fucking target today with time to spare and risk getting my targets made higher? or do I keep firing the rent-lowering gunshots that is pretending yo miss a target and bite my tongue?
in any case, I'm going to dawdle so fucking much at the end of the day because my targets will all be hit by 15 mins to clock-off. I'm gonna waste my fucking time. cause that's what they want, apparently.
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for the love of god pls stop making fun of people who are “picky eaters”. i cannot even begin to explain how awful it is to have extreme sensitivity to food tastes, textures, and smells. trust me, i WISH i could eat these foods but the instant nausea and anxiety is not worth it. do you think picky eaters love being shamed and humiliated and treated like children? do you think that we love having to explain why we won’t eat a certain food??? no it’s fucking embarrassing and the world would be a better place if everyone would just mind their business about what other people eat
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"It's hard making friends after 25" bro it's hard making friends since being fucking born. I'm not socially inept I just keep letting myself get duped by self absorbed people
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at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"
like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.
"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."
... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.
and i'd still keep writing.
i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.
i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley
"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"
and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.
it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.
you create because you're greedy.
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one, never have i ever s4 was pure fucking magic and i cried through the entire fucking thing. two, just gonna fall apart from these brain zaps, it's been like a month now/???? i think??? and it's getting to my ears now and i just..i can't kfdskdfksjlfdjkslfdsjklfkdjlsfdsljkdfsjklfdsljk
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... I'm apparently very particular
To the point of tears I guess
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i LOOOOOVE having a sensitive stomach because of medication yessss I love not being able to eat a whole muffin SLAYYYY
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