Open Letter to Latina Janitorial Staff

Note: The idea for this letter came from my very dear friend, Satan M.D.

Dear Latina Janitorial Staff at Every Corporate Job I’ve Ever Had,

Don’t think I haven’t noticed. Your judgement is wrapped so completely in apathetic boredom that it appears nonexistent but I know it’s there. I know that behind those half-lidded eyes, that gum-chewing maw, those pink Gumy Reggaeton-blasting earbuds, beneath that messy bun of hip length, gloriously lustrous and full-bodied brown hair, deep inside that cranium, you’re judging me. You’re seeing that I’m still working at 6:45 p.m. and you’re thinking, “This perra must suck at her job.”

So now I’m informing you that, on behalf of every corporate employee ever, I don’t appreciate it.

You don’t know me. Maybe I’m so dedicated to my team, my job and my impending promotion that I work twelve hours a day, sacrificing all personal needs and any shred of remaining social life. Or more realistically, maybe I spent half the day sexting that random bartender I finally heard back from and now I’m playing catch-up. Either way, there are important things afoot and I would like to attend to them sans judgment. Continue reading

I hate midterms.

Instead of working on my midterm paper for Writing for the Arts, I find myself here, blogging about my dreadful procrastination.

This is my first quarter at SCAD where I’ve actually had a midterm exam. I’m kind of freaking out because it’s in History of Literary Criticism which is a subject that I simply don’t comprehend. I drink lots of coffee and try my damndest, but that stuff just puts me to sleep.

On top of the paper and the exam, I just started a new job this week, so that’s adding a lot of stress onto me as well. I work at the Time Machine Portrait Company in City Market, a studio that takes old time photographs where you can dress up as a pirate, gangster, or whatever you want. The sets and costumes are really cool, but I’m on the bookkeeping end of things, so I don’t get to play with them.

Oh well, enough rambling for one night.