we should all remember these double standards (and thanks for the reminder BBDO Guerrero Manila)
…and in the meantime, I get a headhunter’s email describing a role that’s supposed to be enticing: “You will sit in a trading floor seat in an open environment surrounded by high-intensity colleagues.”
This is the one part about my old job that I want nothing to do with ever in my life again.
Why do headhunters keep boxing me into something I don’t want to be ?!
I got around to updating my Linkedin with my current crappy job ( I was hoping that I wouldn’t stick around for so long, but it has already been 6 months), and now “congratulations” are pouring, rubbing it all in.
I must find something better soon.
For four months while studying abroad I lived in rural Hong Kong, a lush island terrain that would have been beautiful were it not for the massive, decaying brown tenements that housed the poorest families in the city, underfunded and overpopulated places where children’s cries came through…
Good to remember.
I want to take R. out on a “date” after her exam today. The place I wanted to take her to doesn’t take bookings, but they put me on a “list” and said they’d call me. Maybe. If there’s an opening. Perhaps. They can’t really tell if they will, see, but “being on the list will improve our chances”. And this is not even in Manhattan.
Everything in me (a.k.a. paranoia) is telling me that I should call and book a secondary-choice place, and cancel it if the first one does, miraculously, call.
But I will do no such thing. I must trust that things will work out on their own. See where serendipity will take us.
It is December 6th, and I remember.
I was 13 years old when Marc Lépine opened fire and murdered 14 women for being at engineering school when he wasn’t. He blamed feminism for the situation he was in, and murdered these women for being in non-traditional jobs, for being there.
Every year, the memorials I go to are different. Some are quiet - I remember several winters in the snow, holding candles and reciting names like a talisman against violence.
Geneviève Bergeron, 21 years old. Hélène Colgan, 24 years old. Nathalie Croteau, 24 years old.
When I was younger, they seemed impossibly mature and sophisticated. I used to imagine them laughing and enjoying university, cut down without warning. Now that I’m 35, they seem so young, and I wonder if they were afraid.
"We name these 14, silently or quietly or screaming their names to heaven, because we can’t name the others. Because there is enough controversy around this day, this naming of 14 women who were undoubtedly killed for being women, and we can’t imagine the controversy in naming them all, acknowledging that some women are targeted because they are vulnerable, because they matter less, because they are hated beyond belief, because there will always be someone who tells me that women who don’t want to be abused shouldn’t be sex workers, shouldn’t be ‘liars’, shouldn’t be in relationships, should just leave…"(via pseudobabbler)
I had no idea
I like days full of minimalism.
First, an amazing violinist creating a crowd on the subway platform playing (her own?) minimal music, then Darmstadt collective performing Riley’s “In C" at Issue Project Room, with very appropriate projections in a very appropriate space. So good!
I also wanted to make it to a trunk show of a really cool pair of Japanese designers that I recently discovered, n+a , to find R. her New Year’s present, and to a show of “Nebraska” at MoMA, but there was no way I could fit it all in one evening.