The Frustrated Poet

That's me. My new brand. Considering it came from our agency's brand guru via a comment on my Facebook page it must be true. This comment stemmed from my frequent schizophrenic updates on Facebook yesterday---from dying to so excited to be alive. The really embarrassing thing is I would update my Facebook status MUCH more often if people wouldn't think I was totally off my rocker. I have a reputation to protect.

I do not consider myself a poet, but a writer, sort of. I will never write a book like the History of Love. But I can turn my observations into anecdotal fodder for the world to consume. I'm going to write that entertaining yet valuable lesson of a book that makes you look at life in a different way through humor...and anger, elation, insanity and truth.

It's a good thing I have other plans, seeing as it was confirmed for me today that I am an "undervalued" asset.  Since 1998, thank you very much.

Which begs the question---what the hell am I doing? Really.

A question I most certainly do not have the answer to today. I know my value. I know what I bring to this world. Not only at my J-O-B but in life in general. What to do about it is apparently lost on me. For now...I'm slowly seeing the light.

This poet is going to bottle her frustration and come out big. Just you wait.

You can say you knew me when. It's cool.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Thankful I Suppose

I'm feeling really sorry for myself. I'm doped up on pain killers, watching my stomach turn nine shades of purple and fighting on and off bouts of nausea and headaches. Not how I expected to spend my weekend, or Monday for that matter I suppose. Especially not two weeks before my wedding. And I stink. But it could be worse. I almost died Friday. During this interval of lucidity I'll attempt to tell you why. I warn you, this isn't pretty because it wasn't. And some may ask why I choose to write about it. Well, for one, I certainly don't want to talk about it, and two writing always makes me feel better. Like I can put it past me once it's on paper. I didn't feel well. I left the office around noon, and worked from home. I did a little yoga around six and felt better, so we went to dinner. Around 11pm I felt a demon invade my lower abdomen and try to pull every organ out through my belly button. I fell asleep, or maybe passed out, due to the severity o
Read more

Dislike

I heard a rumor the dislike button is now available on Facebook. I have yet to investigate it for fear of abuse once possessed. I dislike all kinds of crap out there, and will likely end up insulting and even alienating people should this little button find its way into my applications.    My number one pet peeve? No pictures of yourself. What's the point of being a Facebook stalker if you can't look at photos? Or being on Facebook period? This is not just a dislike, but a Facebook fail. And to the people who post pics of their kids / pets only? Let me tell you, I immediately assume you are much less attractive than when I knew you, or that your self-esteem is currently supported by anti-depressants. Next up is Four Square. I do not care where the hell you are. Period. But burglars and serial killers might.  And who wants to be a fake Mayor anyway? And finally, there are the people that don't know how to use it, i.e. updating their status with what was meant to be a w
Read more

Vacation Day 2: I Think this Post is Actually About Food

I have not looked at my Blackberry once. Except to note that in one day I amassed 79 emails (on a Monday for the love of God). None of which have been acknowledged. Because I am on vacation. This is significant for me. Very. I usually have to leave the country for this to happen. At some point we all just need to let it go, so I put it to bed for six glorious days to enjoy, what else, the Jersey Shore. Jersey gets a bad rep--it's those housewives I tell you. For all it's annoying loud gold chain big hair obnoxious nails nasal faults, the Jersey Shore is a little slice of paradise in the Garden State (yes, it is in fact the Garden State and there are tomatoes to prove it). I grew up here as a kid--driving down for the day or renting houses for a week--just 1 1/2 hours from my Bucks County home (more on that ridiculously beautifully place I took for granted my entire life later). Once I left for college my Dad thought it would be an awesome idea to buy a beach house now that I wa
Read more