randomramblingtidbits: (Life says "NOPE")
So aside from being a paraprofessional, I also run the art club at school. The club is under this 'Fine Arts' umbrella which includes drama, dance, and choir, so it is understood that when they do a school musical, we will help provide props and sets.

Which is fine if we weren't running down to the wire. I only got a 'suggested' list of props at the end of March and only last week did I get a confirmed list for all the props and sets, not to mention confirmation that we will be using the campus's stage instead of going off campus. Basically, last week was the point at which I got all the info for what to do, and the play opens on May 7th.

I'm not the only one to worry about the timing, since we only got casting and stuff done in early March, barely giving us two months to work with. Luckily the musical is Alice in Wonderland, so the kids are excited to go crazy with colors for the sets (after all, who says Wonderland can't have blue and purple trees?).  The other design club teacher runs soccer, so while he is often gone for games and practice, he is more than willing to have his players help with painting things.

Again, it just feels like we're running rather close to the wire and it wasn't helped that the past two weeks have been standardized testing weeks. That meant I had to cover for a lot of classes when the teachers are administrating the tests, leaving me with a very crowded schedule and no time to stop to work on things.

The call date for the props and sets is next Wednesday. I've got some props cut out for the kids to paint at tomorrow's club meeting, and testing will be done by tomorrow, so I can only hope that this will be enough to get everything done.

On the plus side, this has left me very...I guess creatively frustrated during the week, since I have no time to work on my own art during the week. That means when I go to art classes on Saturday , all the pent up creativity finally has an outlet. My instructor is very impressed by how focused and absorbed I am during this time :) 
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I was having a good day today, was even going to talk about work and how we busted a cheating ring today in all its hilarious glory, but my parents had to go ruin it.

What, now that things are working out in work, my parents have to ruin things? What do they want from me? To be like Sis, a carbon copy of their beliefs, to follow them and Fox News blindly? Because that's not me and I can't keep pretending that it is. There are cracks and cracks and then it collapses and the edges hurt.
randomramblingtidbits: (Default)
Blah Blah Acara's Emotional Issue )
Anyway, during my hiatus I was working on my original content. I was thinking of posting some things here for feedback, but with my parents going on about how I never share art with them, I'm feeling so guilty over posting things for people other them to see. But they've made it clear that they don't like the genre or themes I like to use in my writing, which is why I want to share it with others who do.

randomramblingtidbits: (Default)
(trigger warning for mentions of abuse, death, depression, and suicide)

While part of the reason I stopped posting -both here and on tumblr- was because I did get a job, the other part of it is that I don't like the holiday season. I use too, but then my family decided to ruin it with me by being assholes.

Read more... )


Job Woes

Aug. 26th, 2014 08:18 pm
randomramblingtidbits: (Default)
(trigger warning for mention of depression)

I've been feeling really depressed lately, largely because of the job thing. Since school started, I just felt like I missed my-self imposed deadline for getting a job. But my therapist and a family friend (who was a teacher herself until she retired last year) reminded me that there will still be having job posting, and even have new positions opening as they realize what they still need. But it was still a depressive episode; I didn't even get around to submitting anything last week just because I felt so stagnated and wondering what is the point if I'm just going to be turned down again. But I need to keep going and this was actually a subject we touched on when I was interning at the job center. I need to set small, reachable objectives as I continue to work towards my goal of getting a job. Right now it is just making sure that I submit an application each day, which I have been doing so far.

I still need to work on getting out of my rut. I might try to get back to drawing and writing, and maybe even hanging out on tumblr and Skype again.
randomramblingtidbits: (Default)
(trigger warnings for mentions of depression, suicide, and self-harming)

Netbug, you made a wonderful post about Robin Williams and depression and I wanted to respond to it, but I ended up kind of rambling, so I'm making a DW entry out of it. But you get credit for inspiring this post :)

Anyway, I was thinking about what Netbug said and it took me back to my high school years, when I was severely depressed; I actually had a contract I made with myself that said I was going to kill myself when I turned 18 because I hated myself so much and just couldn't imagine carrying on with this pain into my adult life. I was suffering and I needed help.

And I told my parents two times during this time. Technically three, as the first time I told them I was suicidal was in 8th grade when my brother caught me with an arm red with bite marks. And they did nothing.

Oh sure, they made sure to keep an extra eye on me, always asking how I'm feeling and if I was having 'those thoughts' again and about how they would pray for me. But after a while they think everything was fine with me, that I had managed to 'snap out of it' and let the status quo resume...until I broke down again. This happen my sophomore year (when I confessed to cutting myself) and my senior year (when I broke down crying during lunch). And each time it was the same 'we'll pray and keep an eye on you' solution. It wasn't until Mother's Day of 2012, when I lashed out at one of my cousins, that they finally took me to my aunt's therapist. And said therapist was the one who finally told my parents to take me a psychiatrist who diagnosed me with clinical depression and gave me anti-depressants. But the pills alone weren't enough, as it took one more breakdown for me to finally see a therapist regularly.

My brother once asked me why I needed other people to walk me through these things (my university's counselors were the ones who helped me find an affordable therapist) and the answer is that was how I grew up. After all, if I really needed professional help, surely my parents would have given it to me after I confessed to being suicidal three times?

But my parents didn't understand. Sure, my aunts and uncles may struggle with it because my grandparents were abusive, but me? Their happy-go-lucky, bubbly daughter? I don't think they understood that depression is more than just a mood that results for trauma. Heck, they still don't understand it. Last week, with my sister starting high school, my own four years were brought up and I didn't sugar-coat it that just how I felt during that time. And they get so offended by it, asking me if they 'were really such bad parents that I lead such a miserable life'.

I love my parents and they are wonderful, but they don't get that depression can be chemical, an imbalance in the brain they have no control over. Our family has a history of mental illnesses and I happened to win the genetic lottery that dictates my brain to be that way. The way I felt beneath my false smiles, the way I can still feel, had absolutely nothing to do with them.

The only thing they are responsible for is how they responded it to it.

So, yes, if you are suffering, please, speak up and don't continue to hurt. But everyone else has a responsibility as well, one to listen to the voice, to understand and not silence them. Because after a while, we will see that our words grant us no relief, so we will just quit talking.

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