Five: Another Day in the Porn Shack

I broke down and talked to my friend / nemesis. It's kind of hard to ignore someone standing at your desk, though I managed yesterday. Despite our brief conversation and a few friendly Twitters we shall not be friends any longer. Okay so that is one of the most childish things I have said as an adult but whatever, this is my blog so if you don't like it fuck off.

I did take true delight that she did manage to say "Don't hurt the animals, we have organic lube" or something equally stupid and totally against our standards. Seriously, we sell sex, sex and animals should not be mentioned in the same sentence ever. Ever. She also managed to make herself and our company look like idiots by commenting on a tweet from a revered member of the adult blogging community about sex workers not paying taxes. Hey, they buy cigarettes and liquor, they pay taxes. All kidding aside, if you buy a freaking banana you pay taxes and regardless of what they do for a living they are humans and should be treated as such. And we're off the soapbox.

Nothing brings a smile to my face than watching someone think they've pulled a fast one, achieved what they wanted by stabbing a friend in the back and fuck it all away because they're stupid. Of course knowing our business she'll be the next CMO.

This won't be me bitching about work all the time. There will be some whining and comlaining about my married boyfriend (I've already heard it so shut it), my subsequent lack of social life, my nagging mother and other such funness. Ciao.

Four: Premature Retro

I am fully aware that blogging had it's heyday a few years ago but a bizarre compulsion has incited me to write. I do wish I could sit with a pen and paper and compose but doing everything at a computer is so ingrained me at this point that it's almost impossible. I do have a journal that I write in during really low moments usually when I'm in bed and need a release. I also have a travel journal that I keep on trips so when I'm old I can look back say "remember that trip to Barcelona with so and so" but even that is hard for me to keep, being tired and all having usually consumer too much alcohol at some casino, I mean the time change and get lag and all.

I call it premature retro. Blogging has it's place in this world and I am embracing again. And yes I do Twitter but that has become yet one more thing I do for work and not fun anymore. I have developed some good relationships over time but I look forward to the day I can bid adieu to my "professional" Twitter account. Not that I'll ever close it, I may never post another tweet on that bitch but they will not get it from me and no one else will ever post under that name other than me. Passive aggressive makes me smile sometimes and one of those sometimes is right now. With an eyebrow lift.

I am admittedly lazy and suspect I will write several posts at one time.
When the words flow they flow and why waste all that because the post you started is over? Not to mention that most days I don't have it in me to write another word and simply want to look at trashy gossip sites, LOL Cats and f my life. Mindless I crave it. Speaking of I need some cheese and crackers and a judge show. It looks like there are no judge shows to sate me to Futurama will have to suffice.

Three: Authoring

It pains me sometimes to know that my best writing is often ala Facebook. I fought it for the longest time, much like getting a cell though I can live without Facebook and simply cannot exist without a cell phone. I used to be a great writer, now all my creative juices are sucked out of me at work. Actually, work sucks the life out me and I often feel like the cube dweller I have in fact become. I used to think I could make a difference and now know that I am just a cog in the wheel. I often think I would rather work for a non-profit and do some good and then I think of my mortgage and love of really expensive shoes. I hate being a slave to the dollar but I love what the greenies can buy me. I'm a hypocrite, I've admitted it before and will again. If you don't like it don't look in the mirror and don't read.

I found myself responding to a FB post that had tagged me. An old friend of mine from junior high and high school had flagged me about a Connells post he had written giving the set list of their recent concert in my hometown. I love The Connells, they are my all time favorite band and actually lost a job at a concert venue I worked at in college to go backstage and meet them. It was totally worth it. This is my response to my friends post:

"A set list to make my knees weak and heart race. One of the highlights of my summer was introducing my musically well versed boyfriend to The Connells. Standing there listening to my youth brought back such sweet memories of being young and burden less and effervescent; dancing like heathens at a ritual of guiltless sin and passion, despite the acoustics of The Boathouse. So jealous you got to talk to Mike."

I comment that makes me more proud of than any of the vast writing I have done for work. It makes me see that there is still a part of me left; that my job, my fucked up relationship and the daily grind hasn't extinguished what was once a promising intellect. In hindsight it is a little weepy and over the top but work with me I've had a codeine and a few beers. It still gave me a boost in a day/week that has been hellacious and emotionally draining. I'm sure I spelled hellaciuous wrong but don't actually care enough to try to figure out the correct, If there is one, spelling. If spell check can't do then fuck it.

I hope that I can find more moments like that to keep me going, there are days that I truly wonder if I can. I find myself becoming numb to life and even the most exciting things render a "meh" from me. I am blessed (I do not like that word as I am not religious outside of the random thoughts of being Buddist and crossing myself every time an ambulance races by) that I am able to travel internationally and have friends all over the world. Yet I find it harder and harder to get excited about things and feel any genuine glee. My dog, who is harrassing me as we speak to play tug-o-war, is one my delights. I could hours about how awesome he is, but most people don't to hear an almost middle aged single chick talk about her dog. Really, not only does it incite pity but you can read that shit anywhere.

So I will try to keep my eye out for glee. If you see her give her my name and tell to shoot my way as I'm running low and could use a dose.

Second: Porn aka Work

I work in porn. I am proud to say that, not only does it make my mother and father shudder it always shocks the listener the first time I say it. Don't get me wrong they still blanche the second and third time but generally get used to over time. Though I do have one long time friend who to this day, three years later, still blushes and gets prudish every time I say it or reference the industry that allows me to purchase shoes and still make my mortgage every month. Now it's fun game I play when I'm with her; it's much more fun after several drinks and I ask the bartender if they'd prefer their tip in cash money or porn - they always choose porn. I can usually guarantee we won't see each other for a couple of months after such an incident so I try to keep it to a minimum since she's lived around the corner from me almost a year and we've only hung out five or six times. In her defense she does travel every week and I know her time home is sacred. Yuk, I hate defending my lack of social life.

Yeah, so back to porn. It's fun to tell people I work in the adult industry. I do not perform, that's what the talent is for and while they are great fun to meet and have lunch with they do not have a job I envy. I work in search engine marketing and get to optimize for really snappy phrases like "anal dildo" and "fucking machine", I wish I could tell my old high school journalism teacher how often I apply the classic rules of journalism to my daily job; catchy title, strong lead line and inverted pyramid body structure. Only I call it title tag, h tags and keyword rich content. H tags really aren't that important but when comparing journalism rules to SEO it's the best correlation, though h1 tags are usually the title of the article so it's a push.

I must say that what was once my fantasy job is now something I dread, much like statistics when I hadn't done the homework and no fucking idea what we were talking about. To this day I still break into a cold sweat at the craps table and my boyfriend always bets the dark side when I shoot. And usually wins, thank god for the Palazzo bloody marys, they do make throwing the dice far less stressful. You know that old saying "Careful what you wish for, it just might come true"? Well that shit does, it's happened to me a few times now. This scares the shit out of me since I'm always saying crazy shit like "I'd love to have triplets" which,considering my "advanced age" of 36, could happen as I'm going to end up at some fertility center begging for viable eggs. I could never have three humans in my body at one time because I would be huge. And I obsess over my weight (did I mention I have ovaries and love fashion. I may preach that fashion, society and consumerism has ruined women by forcing them to want to be anorexically thin but I will still do countless hours of pilates and run many miles a week to be thin. I am a hypocrite in more ways than one.) So, yes, be careful what you wish for and I will stop saying things like "It would festive to run with the bulls in Pamplona" and "Of course I can still ski double diamond runs". Silly me, if you break a leg skiing you can't wear this seasons Michael Kors.

I can say that I have, after what seems like endless hours of strategy, uncountable emphatic debates, and thousands of words written by me I may have achieved what I once thought impossible; the occasional decent ranking for "sex toys" (Google willing) only to find that people aren't searching the phrase "sex toys" like they used to. I hate my job. Only an SEO can appreciate the pain it is to psycho analyze Google every day of their lives. Even when I'm not at work I'm thinking about relative terms, content, taxonomy, social marketing, contests, content, rank, back linking, content, standards and the list goes on. And when I'm not thinking directly about my immediate work I am discussing search trends, engine usage and user trends with my boyfriend who works predominantly in paid search. It's no wonder I crave mindless television. It's a good ole time around the dinner coffe table. Don't get me wrong, I still love SEO I just don't love doing it for my company anymore. Which kind of breaks my heart since I truly believe in the founding father's mission and goal. While I will not reveal my employer I will say we donate millions of dollars every year to non profit orgs that educate citizens of emerging countries about family planning. Every child should be wanted and not suffer because their parents were not equipped with a decision. And that will be all I say about it.

I suspect I may not be long for the world of porn. Not because I don't love it and find it an incredible challenge and daily mind bend but because I can no longer work for or with an antiquated mind set that will not change with technology despite knowing that it has to to stay alive. It's like trying to convince my long dead grandmother that she should get a microwave with push buttons instead of a dial.