From Boston Craigslist, 3/1/11:
“Seeking Entertainment photographer to part of our Staff. seeking creative person to shoot live performances, still shots black/white and color to document our activities. interestred persons should leave infomation we will get back to you.“
Free advice – when posting a help wanted ad, maybe think about using verbs. And spell check. And punctuation.
1 Comment | 
free advice, progress? | 
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Posted by erinire
I usually pick up my prescriptions at CVS. In fact, I’ll usually take any excuse to pick up anything at all at CVS. I love CVS. Except for their piped-in music, which makes me want to throw railroad nails. Anyway, I went to CVS the other day and tried to fill my prescriptions, but their system was down. I went to another CVS to fill my prescriptions, and their system was down too. Apparently, it was a bad day for CVS.
I’ve also filled scrips at Target, which seems like a great idea considering you have the whole sales floor to entertain you while you wait. Unfortunately, their pill bottles are these horrid, cone-shaped, red things that make me feel like some kind of pariah every time I reach for an Effexor. So no more Target pharmacy for me.
It was this confluence of circumstance that drove me to refill at Stop & Shop pharmacy. I mean, I didn’t even realize that Stop & Shop HAD a pharmacy, but hey, I mean, pills are pills, right? They had all the usual trouble with my out-of-state health insurance, so I left them with my card and headed home with the plan to pick up my meds the following morning.
Next morning, I get there, and it’s too early to fill two of the prescriptions. Fine, that’s cool, I’ll just take the one. Except for how they only have ten pills in stock. So I get a partial. Weird but whatever, right? It’s just Stop & Shop.
Time comes to fill the other two prescriptions, and I show up at the counter, and the pharmacist informs me that they haven’t been able to get shipments of the one medication for over a month. They’re still out of Effexor. And they’ve also lost my insurance card.
“We don’t keep insurance cards,” he tells me, before poking lazily around and happening on a stack of – oh what – insurance cards. “Are any of these yours?”
So at this point I’m pretty annoyed. I mean, they’ve had my information for over a week, knowing full well the whole time that they wouldn’t be able to fill the scrip, and nobody even bothered to CALL me. I mean, CVS would have called me. CVS would have had my medication in the first place. And CVS wouldn’t have lost my insurance card.
Free Advice: If you have a prescription, and every CVS nationwide has fallen prey to some kind of server crash, suck it up and drive the extra mile to Walgreen’s. It’ll be worth it in the end.
2 Comments | free advice, meds, progress? | Permalink
Posted by erinire
I mean, I could update you guys about a lot of things. I could give you the over/under on all the tablets coming to market, and might, meanwhile, expound upon the relative merits of converting to ProRes 422 when using Final Cut Pro. I’m eagerly awaiting the maturity of HTML5. I own four 1-TB hard drives.
Ask Katsumi – I wasn’t born this geeky. When he first met me, at 22, I’d literally just learned how to type. I remember pecking out whole papers in the computer lab at college because I didn’t realize you could save your file to a floppy disc. FLOPPY DISC. I didn’t learn about technology until I absolutely had to – I had no head for it, I thought, it had no soul.
My first gig with Pusser provided impetus for the honing of my secretarial skills, and then, suddenly finding myself the PA at a high-end post-production facility, I had to learn everything else fairly quickly. It’s still a matter of some pride that I know how to daisy-chain three HDCam decks so they’ll all dub at once. By the time I went back to Pusser in 2008, I was configuring the fiber-channel storage for our Avid system and honing our workflow for a straight line from production to online.
I’d be lying if I said that Katsu had nothing to do with this transformation – I turned to him whenever I needed IT support, which was often, and relied on him to guide me through the bits and bytes of day-to-day business. But now there is no Katsu. I mean, that’s not totally true, I definitely texted him and was like “WTF is HTML5″ before I got all about HTML5, but still. You can’t lean on your estranged spouse the way you leaned on your husband. And, you know, that’s cool. I like to stand on my own two feet.
But what I’d REALLY like is one of these. Techporn. What a feeling.
Leave a Comment » | how i am awesome, i hate technology, progress?, work | Permalink
Posted by erinire
It’s tough, because I know when things are right and I know when things are wrong. I can feel when things start *thinking* about heading wrong. I can taste it in the wind. I know it before it’s there, like how you can feel a thunderstorm. But I’m helpless.
I didn’t associate it with the Abilify withdrawal, not immediately, and I still don’t know if I do, but there’s an undercurrent of terror that runs through every breath. This faceless, nameless, panic that has no root and has no salve. I remember this, I remember from before, and I’m troubled that it hasn’t gone away. Even after all the changes.
But am getting by it, getting through it, carrying on. You know.
All is well until it isn’t, and, after that, it is again.
3 Comments | charming neurosis, Depression, meds, personal hell, progress? | Permalink
Posted by erinire
The button on my favorite jeans broke today. My only comfortable jeans. The only ones that don’t make me feel fat. And my first instinct was to go out and buy another pair. I mean, they’re just Lucky Brand, not like, Paige Denim or something, so we’re talking about a relatively small investment. Just $99 plus tax for all the glory that comes with a new, well-fitting pair of jeans.
My instinct, as I said, was to just drive down to Newbury Street and grab a pair. We got some new bookings at ECA Productions, and I mean, what am I going to do otherwise? Jeans are a necessity. Right?
I was living pretty high on the hog with Katsumi. We both made good money, so we both pretty much did what we wanted. No groceries but the groceries from Whole Foods, no cat food but the very best. I bought new clothes without a second thought, and, though I love to cook, we dined out more than we dined in. Once, during restaurant week, we went out to Pigalle and spent the equivalent of a month’s car payment on dinner and drinks for two. It was no big deal. Coming from this angle, yes, I mean, of course, just go get the jeans. You need them. Obviously.
So this morning I slung my purse over my shoulder, grabbed my wallet and my shiny new Discover card and headed out the door. But instead of going into the city and hitting the Lucky store, I went to a Goodwill in Somerville and unloaded five boxes of crap from the old apartment. Those days of decadence are long gone, the days of five-course dinners and designer shoes, and even though once upon a time replacement denim may have taken precedent, these days I’m more worried about paying our rent. Like, actually worried.
Don’t get me wrong – I’m not complaining. I still sustain some very expensive habits, and it’s hard to rally a pity party around a camp that’s basically burning cash. I live a nice life, I drive a nice car, and, really, I wouldn’t want to change a thing. It’s interesting to see how “needs” turn into “wants”, and how “wants” turn into “luxuries”, and how easily we can slip from one way of being to the next, when we’re given no choice but to do so. I like that I seem to be resilient, in light of things.
2 Comments | car-ma, city livin', cookin', eatin', how i am awesome, jake, money, progress? | Permalink
Posted by erinire
I heard something on the radio the other day. I forget the exact context, but it had to do with work / life balance, and the interviewee said:
“If your job is your life, you need to get a new job or get a new life.”
And this kind of made me sad, because, for me, it’s impossible to separate the two. Until that nasty incident in June 2009, I’d worked constantly since I was 14 years old, with the notable exception of my first semester freshman year of college when I spent my time on more worthy endeavors. Like smoking in the dorm room. Yes, back then you could still smoke in dorm rooms. Crazy! I know!
Anyway.
I’ve been lucky in that most of my jobs have been very meaningful to me, but it’s really a double-edged sword. Because when things have meaning, they have weight. And when they have weight, they can drag you under. This is to blame, in large part, for my breakdown – too much heft assigned to the job, too much self-worth wrapped up therein, too little time spent cultivating other interests – but I couldn’t have helped it if I tried. And then, without it, I felt so lost. How strange that not working can be just as unhealthy as working too much.
So you think about it, though, and at some point you have to land on the notion that without work, you really can’t live. I mean, work brings money, and who can live without money? Nobody normal, certainly. And people even work who don’t NEED the money, right? Look at Warren Buffett! So those who need work to live, and those who have live to work, but, either way, work is the key. There’s no getting away from it.
I’m curious again, Internet. What’s your work / life balance? How do you strike it?
And, perhaps more to the point, could you smoke in YOUR dorm room?
2 Comments | aberrant behavior, charming neurosis, life story, progress?, therapy, work | Permalink
Posted by erinire
I have a husband. And I have a boyfriend. And it will likely stay that way for some time. As I mentioned, Katsu’s insurance is the only thing standing between me and the Forgotten Doorway to the Nuthouse, except for how without the insurance I wouldn’t even be able to go to the nuthouse and would probably wind up doing who even knows what. I need to stay married, or that insurance goes out the window and I go toppling off a cliff.
My mother is not pleased about this, nor do I expect her to be. And in light of this, I’m forced to examine my own interpretation of what marriage actually means. I believe in love. I believe in commitment. I believe in hope. But I know that these things aren’t always enough, and so I have to say, honestly, I don’t know if I believe in marriage.
I’d like to get some other perspectives, if anyone is willing to share. Not on my situation, per se, but on the larger overarching motif.
What does “being married” mean?
7 Comments | matrimony, progress? | Permalink
Posted by erinire
Man, talking about yourself is exhausting. I had one appointment yesterday and one today, with two very nice female therapists. Neither of them talked about baggage insurance kiosks, or spent an hour lecturing me about how my husband really needs a doctor of his own. We talked about me. Which was kind of nice. But also kind of draining.
It’s kind of a drag getting all that history stuff over with: the sexual assault, the ensuing ED, the failed attempts at therapy. And then it’s kind of a drag getting all that current stuff over with: my breakdown, what led up to it, my divorce and my current, rather perplexing, partnership. It’s kind of a pain dealing with this new health insurance, and it’s kind of a pain driving new places.
But I think today I found a keeper. And now the real work begins.
4 Comments | progress?, therapy | Permalink
Posted by erinire
B! and I spent our first Christmas together with no heat.
Things started to go south the night of the 23rd, it would seem, because by the morning of the 24th our thermostat read five degrees below its target. We pondered this while rushing to my parents’ house, 40 minutes away, for Christmas Mass and dinner. We pondered it further on our drive back home, as the temperature dropped and the hour grew late. Upon arrival, our apartment was a balmy 58 degrees, and we intellectually deduced that the heat was for sure not working. We opened our presents under piles of blankets and slept with four quilts.
That was all kind of romantic and sweet actually, until the morning, when things started to suck. It was freezing, far too cold to shower (too cold to wash my face, truth be told), and so I arrived at my parents’ house a dirty, shivering, unkempt ball of angst. I mean, fucking Christmas, right? Who shuts off someone’s heat on Christmas??
(Actually, it happened to me in 2005. So this is the SECOND time I’ve had my heat shut off on Christmas. Sidenote.)
I called National Grid, who didn’t have an answering service, and I called my landlord, who didn’t answer his phone. And the more I thought about things, the madder I got. I mean, I’d been paying my bills, right? I know the account isn’t in my NAME per se, but obviously SOMEBODY’s signing the checks. And you choose December 23 to enforce your right to terminate? National Grid! You bastards!
Eventually I got someone on their emergency line, who told me that, because we still had hot water and gas for the stove, that it was an internal problem. So I called my landlord again, who didn’t answer. Again. By 11pm, I was googling “tenant’s heat rights MA” and constructing a lawsuit in my head. I mean, I know it’s a holiday and everything, but for God’s sake, man, CHECK YOUR VOICEMAIL! This is an emergency, and you’re legally bound to respond. B! and I stayed with my folks that night – him on the couch, me in a twin bed – and woke up early to drive back to Revere.
An icy blast greeted us when we opened the door, and I called my landlord for the THIRD time and left a message in my Serious Voice. For those of you who have heard my Serious Voice, you understand it is not to be messed with. My Serious Voice means business, you know, and I guess he must have heard me, because less than five minutes later he walked in our front door. B! greeted him cautiously, and together we ventured down into the basement to find….
a big ol’ oil heater.
Oil. Not gas. Oil.
And, hey, guess what. We’d run out.
Oops.
1 Comment | city livin', how i am awesome, progress?, tiniest violin, worst week ever | Permalink
Posted by erinire
It’s not often you get to witness the total evisceration of another human being while waiting in line for a merchandise exchange. But today, it happened. At Microcenter.
I have a real love-hate relationship with this particular retailer. The array of computer products makes me positively giddy, but, each time I go, the staff sets new standards for complete ineptitude. I once bought a scanner from a man who could barely speak English, and this other time the salesman talked my boyfriend into buying a 15″ case for a 13″ laptop. Waiting in line takes about as long as getting a cavity filled, and yes, you can bet, it’s just as painful. If you need somebody to help you there’s nobody around, but if you’re set on your own they swarm to you like flies, and (I swear!) they will only let women ring register. I’ve never seen a girl on their salesfloor. Walking in there is like playing roulette with close-range paintballs. You’ve gotta brace yourself for the worst.
Given all this, it gave me a sick kind of pleasure today to listen as this bespectacled middle-aged woman gave the manager hell. She was also unhappy with the level of customer service we were being provided, but, unlike me, she wasn’t about to take it lying down. “What is your MANAGEMENT STRATEGY to deal with this?” She howled, referring to the extra-long queue at the drop-off counter. “Why don’t you just HIRE MORE PEOPLE?”
“Ma’am, we’re trying to do your best for people, we have strict tests-”
“Don’t give me EXCUSES!” She shrieked. Her voice quavered, as though she were on the edge of hysteria.
“- we have strict tests to ensure that our associates are qualified. We get over a hundred applications a week, but people can’t pass the tests!”
Tests? TESTS? They TEST these people? Like, the one guy couldn’t even do basic MATH – there is NO WAY a 13″ MacBook Pro is going to fit in a 15″ case – and, while listening to the argument, I watched another salesclerk count $1,200 (in twenties) at least seven times. I mean, fuck, they don’t even answer the PHONE half the time when you call! What kind of tests could they possibly be GIVING, and who are these “unqualified applicants”? AMOEBAS?? I mean, seriously!
Eventually, the manager turned tail and fled, and, eventually, I made it to the counter to exchange my laptop sleeve for a spindle of CD-Rs. “Maybe you should apply for a job at Microcenter,” I suggested to B! on the way out the door. He said he didn’t know. I mean, we hear they have this really hard test.
4 Comments | i hate technology, personal hell, progress? | Permalink
Posted by erinire
