5 Reasons Why I Want To Be Buried In A Blazer

Quick. You're on a deserted island with only one article of clothing. What it is?
The one go-to staple of my wardrobe is...
My personal favorite professional article of clothing?

Blazer, blazer, BLAZER.

There are not enough words in the world for me to share my love for the blazer with. When I look at clothes, particularly secondhand clothing, I see their histories within the threads. Behind the seams. Embedded in the buttons and stitching. Someone loved that article of clothing once. Loved it till it was worn thin or washed so many times it shrunk and couldn't button anymore. But they still kept wearing it, unable to fully part just yet. So much occurred with that blouse, those jeans, that jacket! We all know that there comes a time to fold it up neatly and offer it up to Goodwill...but on the way out the door with a pile of clothes to give away, we quickly stuff that single piece under our beds instead of giving it away.

After all, parting is such sweet sorrow.
Those jeans made our ass look fabulous too. Can't give that up.

I went through my old clothes yesterday to decide which ones to give up and which ones to keep. A shift has been occurring in my wardrobe recently, as spurred on by a trip to the Ann Taylor LOFT on Friday. I take how I'm seen in the workplace seriously and some of my old Forever21 stand-bys have admittedly seen better days. The LOFT reminded me of just how much some of my wardrobe needed to be updated into the professional 20-something look. For example: the silver threaded and gray pencil skirt I held in my hand at the LOFT was an investment. It would take my current silver skirt with the foil flowers and kick it to the curb. The new skirt fit better and went from day to night perfectly. It was an update on a skirt I liked and would be much more impressive to wear with clients (and I've been meaning to phase that foil flower skirt out for awhile now but do you know how hard it is to find a decent pencil GRAY skirt in the 18-22 inch length range without spending a fortune or finding poorly sewn on buttons? It's like going on the quest for the One Ring.)

My sense of style is forever evolving, as it should with everyone. What we wore when we were 13 we probably wouldn't have worn at 16. Or how we dressed at 18 is probably a far cry from being in your 20's. Some people are blessed with innately keen great style from the get-go and may not experience this problem. Others, like me, spend a lot of time trying out different styles to get to the one that suits them the best. But no matter who you are, what race or clothing size or height, even with buckets of confidence or oodles of cash, the one question you always wonder aloud at home and in the store dressing room remains the same:

"How do I look?"

The one article of clothing that I've never had to wonder that question aloud with?

The blazer.

Blazers do crazy things to and for me. When wearing one, I feel strong and in charge. I know exactly how to handle and complete the project in front of me. I can lead a meeting in front of a crowd or give a presentation and know everyone is paying attention, front row and center. I can step up to a guy and not even have to say a word to get his attention- the rolled up sleeves have done that for me. When I see a guy wearing a blazer, my levels of respect for him go up dramatically. He could be the king of the douches, but I will remember him fondly for having a sharp set of threads. Kings of douches are often easily overshadowed by their beautiful blazers.

Or in mathematical terms: B.B. > K.O.D.

My mainstay blazer is a black silk one that I've had for almost a decade. I bought it in high school on sale at Dillards and have been wearing it ever since. The label is I.N. San Francisco- a nice foreshadowing to my future love for the city. I can't even read the size tag anymore, that's how worn thin it is. I love this blazer to death and try to incorporate it into every outfit I wear. Since its purchase, I've added a couple other blazers to my closet, but none of them have had the history that this one has.

We've been to the moon and back, this blazer and I, and not one item in my wardrobe knows me better (though my red trench coat comes in at a very close second place). Till death do we part, and here's 5 reasons why.

1) Looks Perfect with ALL Articles of Clothing

Jeans, shorts, skirts, tights, slips, dress trousers, leggings.

There is not one bottom it won't complement to take the look upscale or casual. Button the buttons if so desired- leaving them open looks fine just as well.

2) With Blazers, There Is No "The New Black"

I like them in black for classic purposes. Also in my millions of attempts to resurrect one of my favorite looks of all time- the le smoking tuxedo suit from Yves Saint Laurent that appeals highly to my minimalist sensibilities.

I also like ivory, teal, navy, dusty rose, and sequined over-the-top blazers. Black is great for commanding attention, but sometimes you just want a simple touch. A teal-colored blazer with a fun floral printed skirt, flats, and hair done up in maiden braids is ideal for a casual afternoon on the weekends with friends. Colored blazers can dress up a look as much as down and with black blazers, the same rule applies.

3) Like a Marionette With Strings

When I put on a blazer, I feel like a puppet with strings that have just been pulled on. The fit makes me sit a little straighter, makes me hold my head a little higher, draws attention to my neck and shoulders. It's hard to find a lot of jackets that can do this. With the exception of trenches, I don't know of any other outerwear that does this!

Also this is going to sound weird but I imagine that the blazer would make an open casket wake situation for me appear quite tidy and pulled-together.

I spent a lot of this long weekend watching repeats of Six Feet Under on HBO. Ain't no shame in thinkin' ahead.

4. You Can Really Go All Out With Accessories

This is really important, this reason right here. So many accessories are BFFs to the blazer. We're talking headbands, scarves, necklaces, pins, sunglasses, etc. One accessory if by minimalist, two if by statement. Not a lot of jackets allow for you to pair accessories by all types with them which is what makes the blazer infinitely incredible.

And finally, one of the best reasons possible, again no matter who you are...

5. There Will Never Be An Article of Clothing A Guy Wears More That You Will Immediately Want To Snatch From Him And Wear Forever

They do not call it the "boyfriend blazer" for nothing!

Love to you all,
Heather

Heather Knows Best

If there is one thing I know well, it's career and work.

Scratch that- what I meant to say is that if there’s one thing everyone thinks I know well, its career and work.

This is why I get several messages slipped into my Facebook private message system asking me to help certain individuals find jobs, why I get Tumblr messages asking me about how much money I make (yep, that actually happened), why bums on the street stop me to chat me up since I look all properly dressed and whatnot.

Working is clearly my area of expertise. It’s a famously known fact that I’ve been employed since I was 11. What few people know about this is that it was a very conscious decision on my part. I remember sitting with my parents when they asked me if I would be okay doing this, being the assistant to the local Avon lady who happened to be my Mom’s friend. They told me I didn’t have to do it and there was no obligation to do so. I didn’t have to work at the time and certainly not at that age. I could have said no. Nobody was forcing me to go out every weekend and haul boxes up and down the stairs of residential neighborhoods or make change for $100 bills or take checks or bag the Avon books with the sample products.

Nobody but me. I knew at that very moment it was time to begin working, hop on board the train towards Career, that elusive constellation in my future. And so I did it. I agreed and worked as her assistant for 3 years. Then I took 2 years off, at age 14, to pursue high school and being a student before jumping back on the work train with two jobs that I would simultaneously juggle for the next 4 years. Which would be followed by another series of jobs, juggling act commencing once more until I got to the position I have now. All of this time in my life was a series of blood, sweat, and tears- both literally and figuratively.

There is an absolutely wonderful quote from none other than Lady Gaga in regards to career that if I were still in high school would have probably replaced the Yves Saint-Laurent quote I used in my senior year for the yearbook.

"Some women choose to follow men, and some women choose to follow their dreams. If you're wondering which way to go, remember that your career will never wake up and tell you that it doesn't love you anymore."

Gaga gets it.

My work is never going to leave me because it is me. I carry it with me wherever I go and it faithfully follows, guiding me down the roads I need to be on. When I started working full time, I began to slowly sign away my personal life because now I had my work life. If you know me very well, you'll know I haven't fully gotten rid of my personal life but that the line between it and my work life these days is beginning to rapidly close, with career triumphantly winning. Work fulfills me in more ways than I could ever possibly imagine. I felt very alive when I am working, especially when writing which is what I am so lucky to be doing right now. I'm addicted to working. I rarely take days off. Vacations are an art form that is lost on me. I enjoy it for about a day and then I start thinking too much about what I need to be doing. I don't understand how people can go on vacations for upward to 10 days without chewing their hands off.

This all being said, I have some words of wisdom for the Class of 2011. Beyond just this class, these words apply to a broad range of graduates in general. I can't imagine these words will be too popular with everyone because I won't sugar coat it for you. I'm optimistic, yes, but I am a realist above all things. Nobody in my life held my hand when it came to growing up so I refuse to hold yours too. Does it hurt yet? You have to learn how to grip your own hand tight if you ever want to be fully independent and stand on your own two feet.

Life after college, for the vast majority of you, is going to fucking suck. Particularly for the group of you paying your own student loan bills. And rent. And car insurance. And maybe stuck in credit card debt. Basically, you're going to watch the little amount of savings you had go up in smoke and after that occurs, you're going to have to build your own version of Rome. It will not happen in a day and will require you to do a little something feared by many a Daddy's Girl and Mama's Boy: WORK.

The biggest piece of advice to benefit you right now?

Get your head out of your ass.

Consider this your Golden Rule.

There is a hideous problem recurring with so many young adults I know (and read about) today. Especially those who attended private universities. They don't like to look for work. They're lazy. Many of them have had the very unique and enviable position of being able to ride on their parents' coattails financially. Some have had vanity internships that undoubtedly their parents helped procure with money exchanging hands. Others are already settling down to get married, which is fine in normal "we've been together for 2+ years" circumstances but fucking insane for those who have only been dating their significant other for 7 months or less. An overwhelming amount of people I've read about have extremely low self-esteem and constantly need to be reaffirmed that they are "SPECIAL! UNIQUE!" over 'n over. A good chunk of these people still don't know what they want to do yet. An even better chunk of them still believe they can be a writer or baker or lawyer or astronaut not because they studied in that field but because "mommy said you were good at that."

The most absolutely infuriating and horrifying part I've witnessed is that virtually each and every single person I've seen graduate with little to no prior job experience in their field has become enraged that they aren't getting the exact dream job they fantasized about in said field (say, since they were a 10 year old boy in their bed...) with an $80,000 a year salary to go with it.

Remember the Golden Rule: Get your head out of your ass. I know. It's safe there and your farts smell positive and reaffirming. But after awhile, when you hit 25 and still aren't working anywhere and your parents are still helping you make car payments and student loan payments every month, the shit is going to hit the fan or in your case, your face.

Follow these additional rules in looking for and getting a job:

1) Your Dream Job Has Expired

Dream it, you can be it!

Kind of not really though.

Your dream job has undoubtedly changed some since you first conceived it. When I was very little, my dream was to become an artist. This was all based off of the fact that I drew the following three things exceptionally well:

a) a train

b) a nativity scene with a baby Jesus that looked suspiciously like a loaf of bread

c) Monticello, the home of Thomas Jefferson

I scrapped the dream in favor of writing when I discovered I had more of a knack for producing consistently good sentences that made sense and entertained at the same time. My writing over the years has changed considerably; I will not write my depressing poetry from my semi-Goth phase anymore, for starters. A lot of it changed when I started to read books written by comedic writers. After 10+ years of reading hideously boring textbooks, I was determined to bring about great writing that teaches you something but remains interesting to read. I have my good days writing and my rip my hair out days. It's a nice balance that way.

Your dream job is collapsing. Getting it today means stiff competition against your peers and out-of-work job applicants that have a decade of work experience on you. The dream job you may have had as a child is probably already staffed by now and depending on the shelf life of the position (like beeper salesman) it might have already expired.

This means you need to have a plan B, a solid back-up occupation. Something you might consider doing that you didn't think you would do. For example, while I majored in journalism, I knew I would never become a reporter for a news station. My lisp would do me in. I stuck with writing and delved further into advertising after being inspired by both former CEO's of ad agencies that I had the pleasure of knowing and yes, copious episodes of Mad Men. Though my old job was soured by terrible upper management, I enjoyed being a copywriter very much and still have a great flair for writing descriptions on companies.

Social media on the other hand was always something I did quietly on the side and never considered pursuing as my career. It's funny to me that I didn't try to look into it sooner. I love blogging and Tweeting and reblogging with my Tumblr. When I received the opportunity to do it as a career, I remember thinking well this feels all too natural...why didn't I try working with this sooner???

As you can see, in the vast field of communications, I knew what I would work well with and played up those strengths and went from there. I also understood what I could not do and steered clear of it. This isn't advice everyone follows, because a lot of people still think they can pursue that childhood dream past its expiration date. If you can't do it, if you can't put the effort and time into it, and if it doesn't feel natural, don't do it. Don't be the artist relying on your 3 drawings to make it into the big leagues. Not gonna happen.

2) Handle Rejection Well

Love hurts and scars and so does rejection. If you've already been on the job hunt, you'll feel the sting for a long time. It might come back to you in the form of a standard mass-emailed letter or it might be a personal letter from a CEO explaining why you weren't fit for the job. You'll hate it so much and it might drive resentment into you to slow down the search for the time being.

Personal story time! When I was applying for jobs out of college, I applied for a position doing executive assistant work for a real estate company in Santa Barbara. The owner personally emailed me back, citing his issue with the fact that I had named my blog URL, "thevodkaasylum" and that it wasn't the image I wanted to give off to potential employers. Initially, I was offended. He didn't know why I named it that and didn't know anything about me. I was upset but the lesson stuck- I changed the name to "loveliesteyes" to match my Tumblr and have yet to receive a single complaint since. (On another note, his email contained a bunch of spelling errors- which I noted when I emailed him back, thanking him for his concern with my blog.)

Another story was a little something I read from the blog of Lauren Berger, The Intern Queen. One of her applicants wrote in a little gem about how her dream job is to be the assistant to Ellen DeGeneres. In the piece, the aspiring gofer mentions that, "Although tweeting Ellen D. daily has not paid off thus far..."

You Tweet her daily? For a position that will undoubtedly just have you filling her crisper drawer with fresh tomatoes and kiwi or picking up some scarves for Portia at Hermes? You and everyone else, sister. Aim a little lower next time- Ellen gets A LOT of retweeting and Tweets in general. She won't have the time to notice you above the crowd if all you're doing is Tweeting to get ahead and spending all of your time on one person.

Work with rejection by asking, if you're in the position to, what it is that you did wrong when applying for the position. I've seen everything from poorly written cover letters, sparse resumes and too-long resumes, even font sizes. Also a disturbing trend of entry-level individuals applying for senior positions that they don't have any qualifications for beyond the degree.

Follow the Golden Rule, kiddos.

3) Apply Everywhere

I got an email from a girl saying she applied to 10-12 positions a week.

I saw a Facebook status update from a friend who applied to 8 jobs in one day.

One of my Facebook friends wrote on his status that he was looking for a job and if anyone knew anywhere for him to work, out of his 1086 friends, to send that position his way.

Do these look like the actions of people who have applied everywhere?

When I was first looking for jobs, I started slow like this. Got zero response. Upped the ante, staying awake well into the burning the midnight oil hours. Would apply to 20+ positions a day, behavior I did on a very close to daily basis. I used to cry from how tired I was of sending out my resume, again and again, but my determination stopped the tears short. For every place of the 20+ I would apply to, I would probably hear back from 3 in return. Maximum.

It's terrible out there and hard, hard, hard. Don't let it get you down though. Keep plugging, keep going, and don't limit yourself. Nobody is above any sort of work despite what the caste system might have taught us. If you're going to be rebuilding Rome, it might need to start slow. Or maybe you need to look at it from a different angle. Positions you apply to might turn into something else, depending on how qualified you are.

Just don't rely on your 1086 Facebook friends to find you a job. That kind of laziness ain't flyin' with me.

4) Don't Wait For The World To Find You

Do you love writing? Photography? Art? Making jewelry?

There are a million websites that understand your love and offer great ways to showcase it. So get on it! Create an online portfolio of your work- even if it starts off crappy. It will improve with time, the more you keep up with it. The emotional growth of my own blog is ridiculous. I'm not the same kind of girl I was when I first started writing here. One of my first entries was about how I bid on and won a wedding dress from eBay as a dare. I look back and clap my hand to my head, Oh Heather! The back of yo' head is ridikulous.

Even though I've grown since then, I remember the kind of girl who wrote that post. She was proud of it enough to share it with the interwebz and was also a girl who was game to try anything once. She also just started blogging and didn't have a clue what she was doing and that this kind of post might not be the best one to start off with, but that's okay because she was learning. Portfolios showcase our growth, how we begin to strengthen our work over time. You can sit there and tell me how you think you're a great writer because "my Mom told me so!" but until I've got some URL evidence to support it, I'm not sold. And neither are future employers.

The world won't look for you- you have to look for it. Just like job hunting, it won't be easy. Start building a portfolio though and watch everything slowly fall into place. Your portfolio of work is going to be your golden ticket to getting what you want, how you want it. Your portfolio is your work which will lead you to your career.

Don't wait on it. Grab that Career constellation with all of your might!

Love to you all (from she who knows best),
Heather

I Dream of Dita

I'm baaaack!

Sorry for the delay in well, everything. Apparently during my time away from Blogger they suffered from some problems of their own with postings so in a way, it was probably for the best that I wasn't on the interwebz. I've been ridiculously busy though-nonstop writing at work, going to Disneyland and my alma mater's (again, that sounds so strange to write) commencement ceremony, and seeing Bridesmaids (which was hilarious. I laughed so hard I cried on multiple occasions.)

Amidst all of these great moments came the biggest one on Tuesday night, when I and one of my closest girlfriends went to the Roxy Theatre to see one of my biggest fashion icons, Dita von Teese, perform in Strip Strip Hooray. I've been in love with Dita since 2004, I think, when I first saw her in Marilyn Manson's "mOBSCENE" music video. Back in the day, I was a big Manson fan, required musical listening for an angry 13 year old semi-Goth girl. Since then, I've phased out of buying his albums, but I never got over Dita. I absolutely adore her look and the way that she fights to bring back glamour in a world of tracksuits and UGGS. When I first heard that she was engaged to marry Manson, I was starstruck and bought that precious, precious copy of Vogue that contained the pictures to her Vivienne Westwood wedding gown. I was so completely consumed with their wedding that when I was a senior in high school and had to create a "future box" filled with pictures on the inside of who I hoped to become when I was older, I cut out a picture of Dita in that wedding dress and stuck it in. (Note: I aspire to be like a super fashionable dame, not to get married. That part needs to be stressed.)

When news broke out that the marriage didn't work out, I was crushed. And when the news broke out about Manson canoodling with Evan Rachel Wood supposedly during his marriage to Dita, I was enraged. That douche! Who cheats on such a gorgeous magnificent woman with the chick from Thirteen? I was fully on Team Dita afterward-especially when all of those creepy photos started surfacing of Evan attempting to dress like Dita. Barf.

In short, seeing Dita live has been one of my biggest dreams. One evening I was poking along on my Twitter feed when I noticed that Dita (I follow her account) had written she would be at the Roxy out in West Hollywood and included a link to the tickets. It can't hurt to look I told myself, besides they're probably too expensive anyway.

Tickets were $35.

Holy Santa Claus shit.

I texted my friend, confirmed we would both be going, and clicked purchase all within the next 15 minutes.

We arrived at 6pm when the show was set to let people in at about 7pm. We were the first couple of people there, with a line that progressively got longer and longer behind us and a second long, long line for people buying their tickets at the door. Once we got inside, we stood right by the runway leading out from the stage where Dita and the other burlesque performers would sashay out on.

"You don't want to stand there," a very kind woman told us who was facing the stage, "You'll want to stand right where I am. The performers only come out to the runway briefly and then stay on the stage the entire time. Trust me, I've been to a bunch of these shows before."

Normally I don't advocate listening to the advice of strangers (especially in WeHo) but in this case, we happily agreed. Plus the buzz of the booze we were sipping on helped coax our minds too. This would turn out to be the best decision we made because the entire time during the show, we were a mere foot away from the performers. One foot! And we weren't even VIP or sitting in the expensive booths. Fate dealt us one badass hand of luck that night.

Burlesque is a weird topic for me to bring up with friends. "Yeah, I'm going to a burlesque show." Everyone just assumes that you're going to a strip club, but that isn't the case at all. Burlesque is truly an artful performance on stage that titillates the audience with over the top and exaggerated depictions of serious acts. It's all very tongue-in-cheek, winking at you the entire time with playful performances that truly do require years of professional dancing and concentration in order to pull off. Nobody gets fully naked either. At the bare minimum, the dancers will still have a g-string and pasties on to cover their nipples.

Dita opened with her Martini glass act which is incidentally the act I first saw her do in the mOBSCENE video. She walked out in a men's suit, took it off piece by piece and hopped into a giant martini glass filled with water and studded with Swarovski crystals and proceeded to bathe herself with a stuffed olive.

Her second big act was the powder puff compact, in which she pops out of a giant powder compact, resplendent in ballet slippers and a corset and danced on pointe on the stage. Out on the runway, she'd bop a couple of people upside the head (gently) with a little powder brush. This performance is extremely popular in Paris and is quite gorgeous to watch.

The most elaborate performance was her final act, as a Geisha girl where she held on to tassels in her little boudoir to dance with. Hands in orange gloves would pop out from the darkness behind her to reach out and touch her and the entire dance was scored by a remixed Japanese-infused version of The Cure's "Fascination Street."

It is a miracle I didn't pass out from all of the stars exploding in my eyes.

Oh, there were other dancers, but I couldn't get enough of Dita. Good God, in real life she is even smaller and more beautiful than photos can do her justice of. She was pure grace and old Hollywood glamour incarnate on the stage. I could not watch her performance without feeling a constant wave of awe arise over and over again. It was so stunning, at some points it felt impossible that such a small wonder existed. Which also made me cry out in my head, why, oh why don't we have more lovely ladies like Miss von Teese around today? I have a strong feeling that should the day ever arrive that I could get to be shopping buddies with Dita, we'd get along famously.

Her real name, incidentally, is Heather Sweet. Thus, the reason why I felt such an instant kinship. Heathers and I, we understand each other.

Love to you all,
Heather

Dreamscape Reality

In the midst of the sudden rush of all good things occurring in my life, my mind and subconscious have been acting up. Namely the subconscious.

I've often considered keeping a dream journal and in the past, did have a small book where I wrote the more significant ones in. Depending on where I am in life, my dreams will occasionally light the darker days with pleasant thoughts and dampen my better ones with sadder dreams. When I was working at the former job, I used to dream myself away to a better place in the evenings. Places with fields and the sun and the nice breeze. Which I suppose isn't truly any more different from where I currently live, but y'know, it was. I was different there, filled with more peace and serenity than I ever could be in reality.

The last two nights have presented me with bizarre dreams that I literally could not wake up out of soon enough. Even when I did wake up, I would slip back into the dreams, picking right back up where I left off. Ever notice how that only happens with shitty dreams and never the good ones? Yeah, me too.

Below are my dreams with some analysis included. I analyze my own dreams actively, as I am too broke to afford the viewpoint of a psychologist.

Dream 1

I'm in a subway train, sitting down wearing a white dress. I'm alone and the entire car I'm sitting in is empty. Even though I'm alone, somebody whispers in my ear. The voice tells me that my ex-bf is on the subway too, several cars up. I stand up and walk unsteadily at first to open the door to go to the next car. The subway is moving very fast and I'm having trouble keeping my balance. I get confident and walk faster, and the doors to the next cars get harder and heavier to open. I keep telling myself that this is stupid and to stop trying because reaching him isn't going to do or change anything. I finally get to his car and after throwing the heaviest door yet aside, stumble into a car filled with people I know with him at the center of the subway car space. He smiles at me and I smile back, ecstatic as usual to see him, "You're here!" Then I pretty much jump his bones in the middle of the car (nothing graphic, just some making out) in front of everyone.

Cut to a moment later on when we are both in a car together. He's driving and I'm telling him to take me to Beverly Hills so I can meet up with a friend there. I tell him thank you and he replies of course. We're both older here (in our 30's I'm guessing) and both well-dressed in very pale colors. The sun is setting and we keep passing skyscrapers. I tell him I don't mean to be a burden and he tells me I'm not and I take his hand while he is driving and feel very sad because I know that those stupid glass walls are once more building up.

***

Analysis: I am thinking too much about my alma mater's impending graduation ceremony this coming weekend. Which he is graduating in. I keep hoping for something to happen, whether I admit it to myself or not. Mostly I just don't want to lose his friendship which over the last year has been something I think has already been lost, if not buried.

I'm just tired. I'm tired of thinking of thinking about him every single day, tired of him popping up on my radar, tired that he comes into my head every night before I go to sleep, tired of wishing that I could share all of my good news with him, tired of having imaginary daydreams, tired of everyone telling me to stop thinking about him, tired of having to sit there and pretend I've moved on and am okay with hearing about him with someone else, tired of trying to connect with other guys and nothing happening because they didn't make me laugh like he did and tired of the fear that I didn't amount to anything more than some silly girl in his eyes.

And tired that he spun our story differently to other people, unbeknownst to me. In his version, I was the problem. Maybe I was. I know for a matter of fact that I was. I know I definitely said some things that were completely inappropriate and had it been the flip side of the coin and I was on the receiving end of the remarks, I would never want to speak to me again. But I said I was sorry. It was an apology I meant. He apologized too. I just never added the underlying part that I would have liked to have tried again. Sometimes I think that maybe time was what was needed, distance, to heal. But then we see each other every so often and it is good for about five minutes before he goes over to flirt with some other girl and I'm left feeling like I need to go flirt with somebody else too to prove that I'm fine with this, I'm good. In the words of one of my favorite movies, Jeux d'enfants (Love Me If You Dare), I'm "game." (Cap Ou Pas Cap)

The most significant part of this dream is that I tell myself to stop it, to let go and quit. This is the first time I've actively told myself when dreaming about him everything everyone else has told me. Even though I don't follow my own advice, I dispense it this time, instead of everyone else doing it for me.

These days I've often found myself wishing for a more private social media outlet to let myself out on as well. I do love having my blog be an open forum to read. It allows me to tell the world things they would never have known about me otherwise because I have a hard time telling people things about me. So naturally even in my dreams, there is a big crowd of people observing my life.

Dream 2

I'm living in my beautiful San Francisco. I'm working for my former employers though, with all of the same girl coworkers I had before. It's not an agency anymore though. I work as a dancer for a diner (part Coyote Ugly with some Sucker Punch mixed in) and we all have to dance for the customers in short skirts and fishnets. And I'm crying because I need to get out of there and can't believe that I'm working for them again and even though I love that city so much, I need to leave it in order to restore my sanity.

***

Analysis: That job from hell I first had upon graduating from college has forever left an imprint on me. It has taught me to be forever cautious and wary of places I work in the future. I will never again work anywhere for the prestige of a "title" if it means compromising my happiness and ethics.

For some time during my job search, when I couldn't find anywhere to hire me, I used to think to myself that this was a sign that I wasn't destined to work for anyone or any company. Perhaps it was an arrow pointing down to me that told me to begin my own business or just freelance for life. That's the beauty of being a starving writer. We are our own bosses in the end.

I absolutely love what I do now, and cannot stress it enough. I am continually being blessed with strong female role models in my life who influence me consistently. With this in mind, I've been spending some considerable time lately redefining the "ideal working situation" in my head. If the recession has taught me anything, it is that some traditions need to be broken, now.

The ideal working world, if run by me, would consist of 4 day workweeks. 30 hours would be considered full-time. Cubicles would be banished. Windows would be a must in every room as well as modern pop art paintings for the walls. The office would pay for lunches for everyone and there would be an endless amount of amusing work desk notes passed out. You would never clock in or out. There would be a paycheck every week. And guys and girls would dress swell with zero jeans included (I believe I would reinforce a dress code above most work priorities...)

Sometimes I wonder if I'm meant to be the change. If the reason why I get put in terrible situations is because I'm meant to learn from it (as it seems I'm always stuck learning some sort of lesson) and take that experience to change things for others. The more I think about it, the more reasonable it gets. Human beings are not designed to sit and numbly type in thousands of numbers for hours on a keypad. It is not fair that in this life it seems there are two groups of people: the haves and have-nots. It is wrong to me that so many people have to overexert themselves on the worst possible, menial tasks simply to make the rent every month whereas others sit around and are so bored with their lives, all they can do is complain.

I'll never forget the situation I was in before because it lasted for 9 months. Know what else takes 9 months? Being pregnant. That job was literally the child I was stuck carrying that I did not want even though it looked like a good idea at first. Those 9 months filled me with so much misery that I'm often so startled looking back on it. I can't believe I did it for that long. There are others who do it longer than me though and in the future, for every step I climb upward, I want to be sure to take others with me. I hope to give many people the opportunity to be happy within their working field, particularly since this field is communications which is one of the most vibrant fields around.

This is slowly beginning to happen, since I've just received the go-ahead at my career (it's not a job anymore, folks) to hire my own interns. I get two for the summer. Seeing as I was just as intern myself not even a year ago, this opportunity to oversee the work of others and mentor them has been gracious and immediate. I knew almost instantly who I wanted to have work for me. It wasn't a matter of picking out friends to goof off with. It was about being able to change someone's world and give them valuable job experience that they could take with them onward and upward wherever they went. I had the ability to help and turn things around, and I did it. I look forward to working with them too, being the boss that having learned from terrible bosses in the past, will not power trip or pull them aside to ridicule them or openly talk down to them or laugh off their concerns. Being firm and fair are the best ways to be a good boss to me, with priorities first mixed with laughter.

The time for the ideal working situation is now.

Cap Ou Pas Cap?

I'm game for it.

Love to you all,
Heather

Starring Zooey Deschanel as Me

Let us pretend we live in a world where my life is getting made into a made-for-TV movie shall we? As I've mentioned before, I'd like me to be played by Zooey Deschanel (though Daisy Lowe is still my firm backup actress du jour).

Zooey and I, we've got the mad similarities. The brown hair with bangs, the big blue eyes, the fair skin, and the (sorta-close) body shape. However, we have an even larger amount of differences. The whole "I'm in She & Him" thing, she dated Jason Schwartzman once, and is currently married (not to Schwartzman but good God would they beget the most hip hipster baby of all Wes Anderson cinema time)...yeah. In order to correctly portray me on camera, Zooey would have to...

Not be gifted as a guitar player or pretend to play poorly. Portraying me properly includes understanding that I just like to pursue things (most things in life actually) for about two weeks before giving them up. This outstanding list includes volleyball, ballet, horseback riding and ponies in general, painting, baking with an EZ Bake Oven, and relationships with the opposite sex (not all, but most).

Be very indecisive on what to wear in the mornings. Some mornings are just tougher than others, you know? You feel fat in everything, nothing hangs right, nothing matches. Before you know it your entire closet is on the floor, with some pieces sliding off of your bed and you feel like crying and calling in sick to work because nothing is working out and the entire morning is already a disaster!

The worst part? You haven't even done your hair yet.

I feel like Zooey could play me to a T in this everyday scenario in my world.

Do an excellent impressive outfit moment. Something involving a staircase or turning around from a balcony railing. The moment where you look super cute and flawless but still effortless, inspiring others to believe "Hey, I can do that too!" My girl has this down.

Zooey playing me would have to film countless scenes in coffee shops and breakfast food cafes (lucky for her, the breakfast food cafes are in West Hollywood, steps away from the mecca of all things hipster: Silverlake). Therefore, she would have to enjoy eating pancakes and drinking iced coffee which are some of the staples of my diet. Look, she's even putting sugar in the coffee. I hope it's Splenda. I don't do anything less than the yellow packet. She's also scrunching her chin fairly akin to how I do...I'm just pointing out how alike we are, you guys. It's not creepy yet.

Here is where we get to the worst part of the made-for-TV movie. The part where Zooey, the dream girl of so very many guys in the world who all happen to be very nerdy and sweet, must portray me, the girl who sits there and raises her eyebrows to most guys as if to say "Can you believe him?" Instead, she must be able to embrace the fact that she will not be able to date any darling JGL's because most unfortunately in my world (and I dare you to contradict me otherwise), they do not exist. She'll be hooking up with colossal douchebags who never call back and pining away for her "Pretty Boy" ex-boyfriend, the egocentric actor that everyone on campus hated and her friends told her was bad for her and she drunkenly swore at on the phone to in a crowded bathroom twice before.

I mean, what? These are all purely hypothetical situations.

There's still hope though. The movie isn't quite over. We have a hot John Stamos (there is no one else to portray him better than himself) living down the street, maybe the ex-boyfriend cleans up his act, maybe she hooks up with that cute guy she graduated with "Coachella Guy", and there are so many late night clubs to still go to in her lifetime. Meeting cute will happen.

And happen.

And happen.

Aaaaaand happen.

After all she must embody my life response to whether I'm single or not: "I'm seeing the world at large."

Accurate. No need to practice reshooting these scenes.

She has to wear black tights 'round the clock and look a little bit stressed out. I'm a busy girl. Hell, I'm getting my own intern because I'm so busy. However, Zooey still understands that looking good at work is next to godliness. She also shares my love for flats. This picture alone could be the poster for the film. Photoshop in a city skyscraper backdrop and some sassy girlfriends in the background and boom, we've got something that Lifetime could sell on DVD and make a mint off of. MAKE IT HAPPEN WORLD.

Finally...

Spot-on for what's going on upstairs in my mind.

Let's get a campaign for this film to take off happening.

Love to you all,
Heather