Dear Crehabit,

Where have you been? I’ve missed your enthusiasm for all things creative and therapeutic and self-reflective. I find myself falling into well-worn habits and the customary complacency that comes with my humdrum daily life, as I gaily go about my business. Is this how the half life happens? I pick up pen or keyboard or brush or whatever tool can tempt my trembling heart to hand the reigns and growing pains to you. I’m not taking sense, I’m making dense the meaning and the madness of my muddled, sleepless self. So keep in touch and keep me posted and keep your promise to keep the passion and the poetry and prose flowing and keep me going so I can’t forget the feeling of my fingertips on fire with words wrestled from the furthest phantoms of my addled, agitated, agonized defective brain. Gotta go. I’ll write more soon. — Sincerely, me

The Case of the Missing Chicken

-----Original Message-----
From: Employee S [mailto:S@CompanyA.com]
Sent: Monday, April 14, 2008 4:07 PM
To: Office
Subject: Chicken Gone Missing

Hello everyone,

I'm sure many of you have seen the box of samples that was left in
our break room upstairs. Today, one of the representatives came to
pick up the box and noticed a missing item: the talking/dancing
chicken.

If anyone knows the whereabouts of Mr. Chicken, please kindly return
him. Or if any of you were interested in purchasing him, there is an
order form you can fill out in the break room.

Regards,

Employee S
Company A
XXXX Industry Drive
Workville, CA XXXXX
Tel XXX/XXX-XXXX ext. XX
Fax XXX/XXX-XXX
http://www.CompanyA.com


On 4/14/08 4:18 PM, "Mr.HR" <HR@CompanyA.com> wrote:

Dear All,

FYI The reps are with Company B.  That company is also Mothership
owned.

Regards,

Mr. HR
Company A
XXXX Industry Drive
Workville, CA XXXXX
Tel XXX/XXX-XXXX ext. XX
Fax XXX/XXX-XXX
http://www.CompanyA.com


On 4/14/08 4:22 PM, "Employee S" <S@CompanyA.com> wrote:

Thanks for the clarification, Mr. HR. I became the default
messenger because I happen to sit across from the break room,
but I was a little murky on all the particulars.

And the saga of the missing chicken continues ...


On 4/14/08 6:19 PM, "Mr.HR" <HR@CompanyA.com> wrote:

Thank you Employee S. I appreciate your efforts. Becoming in
charge on this situation due to your proximity to the crime
scene is unfortunate.

Thanks again.

Mr. HR
Company A
XXXX Industry Drive
Workville, CA XXXXX
Tel XXX/XXX-XXXX ext. XX
Fax XXX/XXX-XXX
http://www.CompanyA.com

4/11/08

Humble Applicant

54321 Desperate Way

Suburbia, CA 90X0X

PlsHyrMe@yahoo.com

April 11, 2008

Mr. C

Corporate, Inc.

1 Imperial Ln.

Fortuneville, USA

….

Dear Mr.C:

I would like to apply for the Fool position at Corporate, Inc. that I learned of through monster.com. With nearly 30 years of experience in idealism and self-delusion, I feel that I am a highly qualified candidate.

I attended the prestigious University of Lofty Ideals, where I received a priceless liberal education. I acquired extensive skills in the art of critical thinking … Though were I to think–critically, that is–of my rather critical circumstances, I might conclude that critical thinking isn’t a particularly marketable skill. I might have gone further had I exercised a bit of practical thinking. And by “practical,” I mean that my goals and aspirations could have embodied a more … shall we say … lucrative bent. But no, I am firmly entrenched in my passion for writing, editing, art, and education–the realm of the overeducated and underpaid. I’m not even that educated, with only one degree under my belt. I have friends in there for the long haul, registered for a lifetime of academic servitude. But that’s neither here nor there.

Oh, and have I mentioned my excellent customer service skills? I am involuntarily perky, positive, and pleasant. In the face of disgruntled clients, customers, and callers alike, my smile rings true and my eagerness to assist never wanes. Unfortunately, I am not overly fond of the general public. But guess what? My company has been downsized and to keep my job, I must answer phones. Fielding phone calls has got to be the most thankless job. I can handle face-to-face interaction because you get a little warning with body language and facial expressions. But when that phone rings, you pick up blind. On the other end could be an irate parent demanding to know why their senioritis-plagued student who dropped a required course 2nd semester is having her admissions revoked. Or could it be that eccentric author who’s trying to pitch a “novel” idea for the hundredth time and won’t take no for an answer?

But it’s not just the phone thing. I could lose my job at any time. The evil corporate mothership, not unlike Corporate, Inc., that owns my company can do away with my department and cancel more of my projects on a whim, as has occurred several times before, mind you. And then where will I be? Ah, yes. That leaves me surfing monster.com and careerbuilder.com, desperate to find another job, hoping that this time, yes, this time, it will be the dream job that combines all my skills and interests and offers job security.

Once again, I would like to emphasize my unique qualities that would make me a perfect fit for this job. At this critical point in my career, I could decide to try a new profession, one that has job openings everywhere and provides a much higher salary. But no, I am fiercely determined to cling to my hopeless idealism and idiotic belief that I might once again find a job that I love, a job that I can keep. So, I ask you this, who else would make a better Fool?

Attached is my resume and I look forward to speaking with you regarding my qualifications for this position.

Sincerely,

Humble Applicant No. 41,108

Corporate Crap

crippity, crip, crap

you crummy corporate king of

quotas and bloody bottom lines

I’m just a figure, not a face.

I’m just a number, not a name.

Downsized and dumbed down

It’s all the same.

Mergers and margins,

the business of bargains

Timesheets tracking

the seconds of my soul

being sold to bang a buck

I just don’t give a —-

Ah, but my bills …

corporate kills

Ode to the Pants and Zodiac Animal Alter-Egos

Yes, I am not ashamed to admit

I am a fan of the pants—the “traveling pants.”

Read the whole series in, what, two weeks?

Laughed, cried, and agonized with The Sisterhood.

The sheer number of times I cried …

There was a time I went for years without crying.

Nowadays, kittens make me weepy.

Crying is progress.

The pants are progress.

I also love Fruits Basket.

Me and tons of pubescent girls.

Why? you ask.

Because they serve up raw emotion,

our ugliest fears and tenuous ties

to the idea of love and happiness,

our totally twisted relationships with our parents.

Our very identities hang in the balance

amidst Prince Yuki fan clubs

and soccer camp.

God, I wish I could write like that.

The human heart laid bare.

Storytelling at its most addicting,

entertaining,

silly,

and honest.

Honesty is progress.

to do list

This one was written on my morning commute and is inspired by the rhythm of Jenny’s “Hot Mouth Chew”:

here are the things

i gotta do

i have to do

i always do

there are the things

i wanna do

i long to do

i rarely do

where in the world

do i find the time

to do the two

and still sleep too?

I love

I love your thunderous snoring
I love it when we’re boring
I love our scores of toys
the simple joys we share
the gentle care You show me
in everything You do
and anything I wrote or drew
could never quite convey
the way your sweetness
and your sarcasm
touch me in ways
I can’t fully fathom
but all I know is this:
loving You is utter bliss
Note: I’m giving this poem to my husband for Valentine’s. Even though I don’t subscribe to holiday coercion, I do think any excuse to tell someone you love them is a good excuse.

mondays

mondays are icky,

sticky with sunday’s sweet residue

they kick of the cycle of sleep overdue

mondays are mean

soaked in caffeine

wish it were friday

so i can go play!

on babies

baby games

and baby names

baby showers,

parental powers

I’d rather not possess

I must confess

I’m petrified of parenthood

I’m terrified of what I could

and would potentially do

to a child

the idea’s wild

the responsibility

beyond my ability

to even conceive of

Artist Dates

Each week it is my mission

to take myself on an “artist date,”

the purpose of which

is to help me create.

Last week: Destination 99-cent Store.

There were sweet snacks and knick-knacks aplenty,

trinkets and treasures galore!

I got a pencil case featuring the fearless spidy,

Marvel valentine grams with lollipops,

mechanical pencils with eraser tops,

and a chocolate orange

to top off my decadent binge.

This week, with my new Kodak as my date,

who knows what wonders await …

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