the "doing"

I never really sit and watch the Oscars. Usually, I get excited about the gowns and plan on watching the show and then end up working and being too tired to remember to turn it on; or end up just watching the end to see who gets best picture. This year, I sat through the whole thing without multitasking or switching back and forth from another show, or deciding to work instead.

And even though I enjoyed the show, and kept thinking "Gosh, I really must have been working and sleeping a lot this year to have missed so many movies that I wanted to see", it's almost one in the morning and I have so much f'n work to do that I wish I had just skipped it all together.

My weekend has consisted of working on my full-time job, working at my part-time job, going to a fantastic birthday party, working at my part-time job again, thinking and stressing out about my full-time job, the Oscars, and now this.

I don't even want to think about the week ahead. I honestly didn't think that it would ever end up like this--me dreading the week. The entire week. Not just Monday, but the whole freaking week. I'm not that person.

Old me: I wake up, the sun is shining. I have people that love me and I'm working towards some goal(s).

Me now: I wake up, hit snooze eighty times. Think about my boss stressing me out. Drag myself out of bed; feel guilty for being unsatisfied with the way things are since..I have a job, and I work towards my passion for helping people every day. Get pissed that my jeans are tight and the five pounds I lost last month, I probably gained them all back in the past two weeks since almost our whole organization's well-being rests on my shoulders and I'm treated like an intern Blah blah blah blah. Awesome.

This has got to stop.

Right now, while I worry about the bills I have to pay or can't pay (eh hem, student loans) and the recent ex I was with for five years who's emotionally abusive immaturity can still pull the rug out from under me at times, I think about how Michelle Obama would be studying at 6 in the morning. Sure, I know I didn't go to an ivy league school, so maybe I didn't have to get up at six, but the ownership of time that successful people--successful women--have is just plain admirable...and brilliant.

Dad always said that everyone--smart or dumb, rich or poor--has the same amount of hours in a day; it's all in what we choose to do with them.

I'm 24. I want my skin to look as good as it does now for at least the next 10 years. I want to wake up in the morning feeling as if I have some control of how my day is going to go, and if not my day, then my evening and night when I'm not at work.

I want to dance again. Teach again. Write again. And create.

I know the solution isn't to sit here and look at the Oscars and be distantly envious of people who get to follow their passions and express themselves through art for a living. People who are paid to be inspired. People who are paid to look good. I know.

I guess the most painful part is that Gabby Sidibe, who's a couple years older than me, took a risk. It's so amazing what became of that risk, and totally inspiring. But here I am with all the tools and heart--usually knowing the general or focused direction of where I'm headed--with absolutely no where to go. With seemingly no real, place to turn. I want that chance. I want that risk, but I have no idea where it is or where I should go from here.

I'm tired of meetings about future meetings. I'm tired of people who don't just do. I know there's always going to be bureaucracy and the need for diplomacy--I get it. But I'm sick and tired of people who don't give a flying flip about realizing their full potential and really taking everything they do and touch to the next level.

If all I have at the end of the day is my health and my passion, I'll be damned if I let incompetent, hand-wringing, milquetoast and insecure sunshine vultures stand in the way of the things that give life and voice to my internal child.

And now back to work.

2.0

Today was not easy.

I've got the office all organized again after dealing with three events, the holiday season, the new year, three grantor audits and our regular annual audit.

Renewed spirit, better organization, implementing solutions for all the gaps..and then crash.

Yesterday I realized that I can not be happy in a position where I don't have the authority to make decisions (read: get things done) or work within a team that is able to work and get things done together.

I've lost 5lbs so far.

Done with cool.

I can't even begin to express my anxiety over this thing posing as a blog.

I remember back when I was really into livejournal and would be reading some of my writer friends' posts and the comments thinking "What does it matter how "tight" your post is? Or whether or not it finishes nicely?"

I guess they're the ones that were prepped for today's world of awesome blogging.

What it really has to do with is my annoyance with things like PERSONAL BRANDING and SOCIAL MEDIA and NETWORKING.

I hate that I use those necessary phrases so regularly. But it is what it is.

My younger brother has all kinds of teenage wisdom mixed with rap lyrics and threats like "Mothafuckaz betta think b4 they spit out my name" on his facebook page. And as much as i wish we could just say whatever we wanted when we wanted I had to be like "Two words, bro: Personal Branding"

He'd say that I was just like Dad, with my "planning for the future b.s." and "you've gotta think about your image" talk, but it's true.

The other part of me wants to fight against it, but I guess I'll just stick to private entries on my other journal and be done with it.

I wish I even had the time or the sense to really explore the need to be able to share and to want people to look in and know all that I might be thinking and wanting to say, but maybe everyone doesn't really need to know all of that, or maybe there's a way to maintain your "identity" online without starting to write for other people while also not writing things that could get you in "trouble".

Woohoo for exclamation marks in this post.

I'm babbling on and on and it's good for the soul. It's good for this post.

Hi, my name's Yvonne and I'm not a Blogger.

ha!

Please enjoy the photo.

Dream Job Candidate

So today I found what could possibly be my dream job.

At the very least, if you look at the items under "Qualifications of the Ideal Candidate" and "Desirable Qualifications", I want someday for all of those things to be said about me in when describing me in whatever role I end up in.

I've gotta learn Spanish.

Tired

To all of those out there who feel they are entitled. That they do not have to take anyone but themselves and their own feelings into consideration when they are stressed (and even when they're not stressed for that matter). That they can simply be excused for out-of-line behavior after the fact. That they do not have to be held accountable for their actions.

To all of you, I say, Go. Sit. Down.

You are not entitled to anything and you do not have a right to any of the above. The best lesson you can learn in life is not only the real meaning of actual hard work and sacrifice, but also acting out of humility and compassion towards others. (Which, we all know you've been totally excluded from learning since it's never really been expected of you and you've been allowed to get away with it.)

I am not expendable.

I am not here at your mercy.

I am not here for you to take out your insecurities, frustrations, powertrips and ego-boosting exercises on.

Call me when you can navigate a position that literally attempts to roll three different full-time jobs into one. Call me when you're in that position and can do creative strategic planning, relevant marketing, event logistics, damage control and encouragement among community members and frustrated, overworked coworkers and week and a half follow-up to about 40 new emails and 15 new calls received on a daily basis.

Call me when you do all of the above and make it look as smooth as Michelle Obama in a cardigan and cropped pants with flats.

Until then, please, sit your happy ass down and get back to work.

Ikea'ed Out

There's nothing like the feeling you get when you've screwed in your last screw, and if applicable, pushed in your last peg, in your Ikea furniture. My room is a total mess still. However! I am now someone who has their very own desk space, office space, art space, creative space in their bedroom.

No longer do I have to sit and stare at an old clunky, corner, shelved, large, not-good-for-this-space desk. And no longer do I feel compelled to pile and sort clean laundry and dry cleaning on top of said corner desk.

Ha!

Here I am

I'm new to the blog scene. Although they've been around forever, and I've been thinking about having a blog for at least a year or two, I'm still hesitant, apprehensive and maybe even a bit nervous about the whole thing. I couldn't tell you why, but maybe great things are about to happen.

I just turned 24. I'm working in a position that people twice my age have as their careers, for an organization that's significantly making an impact on a cause I care about most. My fiance (of five years) and I have been long distance for six months and are now pretty much on the rocks. I feel like I'm about to grab life by the balls. It's coming.

I've been through so much pain and beauty over the past few years. There's a swelling and rising I can feel, that can only burst into whatever the opposite is of a quarter life crisis when next August comes around.

And that's good. This is good.

I don't know what I'll do with this blog, but I'm feeling better already.