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The torturous activity of watching someone change your website
Work's latest project is creating SquareSpace sites.... How lovely, right? Wrong. We were told to put our personality into them, really make them our own. Apparently, this was conditional on the Powers the Be approving the fonts, colors, content, design, etc.... And apparently, yours truly is hopeless when it comes to creating aesthetically-pleasing website layouts. I guess it was something I never really knew about myself, or cared to know, because I'm really, really frustrated about it.
I designed 3 websites, only to have them ripped to shreds when it time for our website reviews. I don't think I have the tough skin needed for creative design, hell I don't even have a degree in graphic design... So why would you put me in charge of anything creative? Especially if you aren't going to allow me to indeed put my personality into it?
Black is too overbearing, my fonts aren't legible, the color scheme is atrocious, "if I came to your site I would just leave".......
I just about lost my cool over this stupid project, and finally told the person overseeing it that she could just change whatever she wanted, and I'll stick to adding images and content.... "because that's were I really feel your strengths lie"..... Ugh!!!! The even more frustrating part is that she's a friend, and I know she's just doing her job... The whole thing shouldn't make me feel as upset as it is!
For your perusal, here are my sites, completely revamped in a style I would never have chosen:
Vue de Paris
password: passwordss10
My Arch Nemesis
password: passwordss12
Your World Heritage
password: passwordss11
I can barely look at them now without feeling sick.... My World Heritage site is unchanged so far, to my knowledge.... But it's coming.......................
I designed 3 websites, only to have them ripped to shreds when it time for our website reviews. I don't think I have the tough skin needed for creative design, hell I don't even have a degree in graphic design... So why would you put me in charge of anything creative? Especially if you aren't going to allow me to indeed put my personality into it?
Black is too overbearing, my fonts aren't legible, the color scheme is atrocious, "if I came to your site I would just leave".......
I just about lost my cool over this stupid project, and finally told the person overseeing it that she could just change whatever she wanted, and I'll stick to adding images and content.... "because that's were I really feel your strengths lie"..... Ugh!!!! The even more frustrating part is that she's a friend, and I know she's just doing her job... The whole thing shouldn't make me feel as upset as it is!
For your perusal, here are my sites, completely revamped in a style I would never have chosen:
Vue de Paris
password: passwordss10
My Arch Nemesis
password: passwordss12
Your World Heritage
password: passwordss11
I can barely look at them now without feeling sick.... My World Heritage site is unchanged so far, to my knowledge.... But it's coming.......................
Awful. Just Awful.
Okay, it's not war or a death or illness.
But I just realized that EVERY PLAYLIST I HAVE EVER MADE IN MY LIFE ... is gone. iTunes, Windows Media Player, things that I literally took HOURS to create, things that captured moods, or certain periods of my life ... gone.
OH.
And so are the thousands of songs that went on those playlists.
So basically, all I have right now are the 442 songs I bought from iTunes when I used to have money.
I am so close to crying. It will hit me harder later and I will definitely be crying. If you know me at all, music is a huge piece to me as a person. That it's all just gone and unrecoverable is... sadly, it's devastating.
But I just realized that EVERY PLAYLIST I HAVE EVER MADE IN MY LIFE ... is gone. iTunes, Windows Media Player, things that I literally took HOURS to create, things that captured moods, or certain periods of my life ... gone.
OH.
And so are the thousands of songs that went on those playlists.
So basically, all I have right now are the 442 songs I bought from iTunes when I used to have money.
I am so close to crying. It will hit me harder later and I will definitely be crying. If you know me at all, music is a huge piece to me as a person. That it's all just gone and unrecoverable is... sadly, it's devastating.
Strength
What a week. What a hard, emotional, sad week. I believe the entire country has felt the physical, emotional and spiritual pain from the Newtown tragedies. I cannot imagine how heightened and more intense it must hit anyone who has children of their own. There are no words and constant tears. If it hurts complete strangers this much, I cannot begin to imagine how the residents of Newtown are continuing on each day. Eventually, I hope and pray that the strength that WILL begin to grow and resinate inside of them (even us?) is spent with good energy and lived each day with a peaceful soul.
When pain enters a life, heart, body or mind...when a spirit is crushed or trust is diminished, pain sets in. We all know what pain is. We know avenue upon avenue of pain and its twisted turns and its dead ends. Eventually, that caterpillar CAN be a butterfly. I believe That humans (even smart animals) DO have the ability to turn their pain, once it has stopped being an action and started becoming a layer of hardness around a life, heart, body or mind...when it sits on a spirit or blinds trust...to turn that pain slowly into inner strength.
To be resilient, defiant or stubborn is genetic. Inner strength is something you must acquire and even earn in some instances in life. You have to experience that raw, hollow aching. That desperate and lonely helplessness. There is no easy way and there never should be an easy way in life. Ever. I believe That there are other ways to build inner strength but since the residents of Newtown and the whole rest of this country are suffering through such a tremendous loss, I feel that it is very important for us all to remember NOT to be defeated by such an unthinkable act, such an unexpected blow. We must become stronger from this. We must turn this pain into gold, into peace, wisdom and strength.
I pray for this for all of us. I love you, you and you way over there!
Merry Christmas. Happy Hanukkah. Happy Kwanzaa.
Xo xo,
Kara
When pain enters a life, heart, body or mind...when a spirit is crushed or trust is diminished, pain sets in. We all know what pain is. We know avenue upon avenue of pain and its twisted turns and its dead ends. Eventually, that caterpillar CAN be a butterfly. I believe That humans (even smart animals) DO have the ability to turn their pain, once it has stopped being an action and started becoming a layer of hardness around a life, heart, body or mind...when it sits on a spirit or blinds trust...to turn that pain slowly into inner strength.
To be resilient, defiant or stubborn is genetic. Inner strength is something you must acquire and even earn in some instances in life. You have to experience that raw, hollow aching. That desperate and lonely helplessness. There is no easy way and there never should be an easy way in life. Ever. I believe That there are other ways to build inner strength but since the residents of Newtown and the whole rest of this country are suffering through such a tremendous loss, I feel that it is very important for us all to remember NOT to be defeated by such an unthinkable act, such an unexpected blow. We must become stronger from this. We must turn this pain into gold, into peace, wisdom and strength.
I pray for this for all of us. I love you, you and you way over there!
Merry Christmas. Happy Hanukkah. Happy Kwanzaa.
Xo xo,
Kara
Solemn Anniversary
I don't know what to write. I've been crying in anticipation for this event for literal weeks; looking up pictures and stories and old diary entries and just weeping. I sometimes worry that September 11th effected me much more than it reasonably should have - I did not directly know anyone killed on that day, I did not yet live in Lower Manhattan (or even within city limits), but... it is a daily thought of mine. Like, I actively try to avoid 9:11 on the clock because I don't need another reminder of it.
I never want to forget how I feel about this. I think, worse than me being so hyper-sensitive about September 11th would be to let it fade from memory. Horrific acts of terror and hatred cannot be forgotten - it is through memory that connections are made, and that victims can live on. Life as we knew it as a country, as an entire planet ceased to exist at 8:46 EST 10 years ago. Families torn apart, lives ended, and we all lost a huge sense of security and safety. For weeks (if we're honest, for years), no one knew if another strike was coming at any moment. No one I know could hear or see a plane flying overhead without paranoidly feeling it was flying to low/off to do something horrible. Nothing made sense. Everything was scary.
For the first few years after it happened, I could tell you what clothes I was wearing to school that day. Unfortunately, that detail is gone for me now, and THAT scares me. I still know exactly where I was (Dr. Lagana's 4th period honors U.S. history class, row by the windows, 3 seats back, next to a weird black box/radio that was talking about the World Trade Center), who was around me (diagonal to Nicole, Josh Simon, Sarah Rennie, Lenny Cagno, Stacey Cohen, Jessica Rosenfeld, Kristen Holder, Joe Weinstein, Tom Rizzuto and a few other kids in the class with me).
- I still remember how none of us knew what was happening when we came into class, noisy as always. And Doc didn't do anything to quiet us down. I was the closest to the radio that was mysteriously on, and the woman was talking about the World Trade Center. We kept talking, waiting for Doc to settle us down, to explain to us why we were listening to a recording of the '93 bombing. Was it related to the talk we'd had on Friday of last week when we'd debated whether or not we should be looking into technology that would create a force field around American soil to keep us safe from outsider attacks? How?
Then I heard them say 'plane' and I knew that something was very, very wrong. There hadn't been a plane in 1993; it was a truck in the basement with a bomb in it. Airplane was not related. Slowly the room quieted down. Doc was leaning on the edge of his desk; he couldn't even stand up. I won't ever forget his eyes; sometimes I can SEE his eyes in my head and I feel my heart rip open. "This...is happening now".
Then...chaos. Knowing that Sarah's dad worked down there. That Nicole's dad's place of work is in lower Manhattan. That just 2 days prior I'd half-heartedly made up with Eric and now his father working down there was making me feel sick.
- The rest of that day was a blur. Every class we just silently watched the TV screens; I don't know why, but watching it in Spanish class really sticks out in my mind. The hallways were eerie; no one knew what to say. Lots of hugging; I remember hugging people I didn't even know very well, but it just seemed like the right thing to be doing. The rest of the week was like that, too - just fear and nausea and not knowing what was coming. Repeatedly seeing graphic images of the crashes, people jumping, the buildings collapsing...
For as much as I have a reputation as being a cryer, I wasn't able to cry until Friday. I remember that clearly, too. I was listening to the radio before school and it just finally fully hit me, what had happened, that there might still be people trapped inside, alive and dying at the same time, that I couldn't do anything...and I just laid down on the floor and let myself cry out everything inside of me.
- I remember for months, the sense of 'being an American' was huge; that it wasn't just New York, where a town away from mine you could see the smoke billowing out of the rubble. Everyone stopped fighting for a second and tried to come together. It rocked all of us to our cores, with New York City as the epicenter. We were all brethren, and it was a beautiful time in our country. It is clearly long gone (have you heard some of the political debates of late? I feel stupider listening to these people who are hoping to run our nation), but I wish that wasn't so. For a few, brief months, we actually felt like A COUNTRY - a united front with similar goals who were coming through a tragedy together and wanted the same things - to make it better.
Where were you? What's your story? What's your connection to 9/11?
I never want to forget how I feel about this. I think, worse than me being so hyper-sensitive about September 11th would be to let it fade from memory. Horrific acts of terror and hatred cannot be forgotten - it is through memory that connections are made, and that victims can live on. Life as we knew it as a country, as an entire planet ceased to exist at 8:46 EST 10 years ago. Families torn apart, lives ended, and we all lost a huge sense of security and safety. For weeks (if we're honest, for years), no one knew if another strike was coming at any moment. No one I know could hear or see a plane flying overhead without paranoidly feeling it was flying to low/off to do something horrible. Nothing made sense. Everything was scary.
For the first few years after it happened, I could tell you what clothes I was wearing to school that day. Unfortunately, that detail is gone for me now, and THAT scares me. I still know exactly where I was (Dr. Lagana's 4th period honors U.S. history class, row by the windows, 3 seats back, next to a weird black box/radio that was talking about the World Trade Center), who was around me (diagonal to Nicole, Josh Simon, Sarah Rennie, Lenny Cagno, Stacey Cohen, Jessica Rosenfeld, Kristen Holder, Joe Weinstein, Tom Rizzuto and a few other kids in the class with me).
- I still remember how none of us knew what was happening when we came into class, noisy as always. And Doc didn't do anything to quiet us down. I was the closest to the radio that was mysteriously on, and the woman was talking about the World Trade Center. We kept talking, waiting for Doc to settle us down, to explain to us why we were listening to a recording of the '93 bombing. Was it related to the talk we'd had on Friday of last week when we'd debated whether or not we should be looking into technology that would create a force field around American soil to keep us safe from outsider attacks? How?
Then I heard them say 'plane' and I knew that something was very, very wrong. There hadn't been a plane in 1993; it was a truck in the basement with a bomb in it. Airplane was not related. Slowly the room quieted down. Doc was leaning on the edge of his desk; he couldn't even stand up. I won't ever forget his eyes; sometimes I can SEE his eyes in my head and I feel my heart rip open. "This...is happening now".
Then...chaos. Knowing that Sarah's dad worked down there. That Nicole's dad's place of work is in lower Manhattan. That just 2 days prior I'd half-heartedly made up with Eric and now his father working down there was making me feel sick.
- The rest of that day was a blur. Every class we just silently watched the TV screens; I don't know why, but watching it in Spanish class really sticks out in my mind. The hallways were eerie; no one knew what to say. Lots of hugging; I remember hugging people I didn't even know very well, but it just seemed like the right thing to be doing. The rest of the week was like that, too - just fear and nausea and not knowing what was coming. Repeatedly seeing graphic images of the crashes, people jumping, the buildings collapsing...
For as much as I have a reputation as being a cryer, I wasn't able to cry until Friday. I remember that clearly, too. I was listening to the radio before school and it just finally fully hit me, what had happened, that there might still be people trapped inside, alive and dying at the same time, that I couldn't do anything...and I just laid down on the floor and let myself cry out everything inside of me.
- I remember for months, the sense of 'being an American' was huge; that it wasn't just New York, where a town away from mine you could see the smoke billowing out of the rubble. Everyone stopped fighting for a second and tried to come together. It rocked all of us to our cores, with New York City as the epicenter. We were all brethren, and it was a beautiful time in our country. It is clearly long gone (have you heard some of the political debates of late? I feel stupider listening to these people who are hoping to run our nation), but I wish that wasn't so. For a few, brief months, we actually felt like A COUNTRY - a united front with similar goals who were coming through a tragedy together and wanted the same things - to make it better.
Where were you? What's your story? What's your connection to 9/11?
morning panic attacks.
Today was nice, as you can tell by my last post, but it didn't start off so fair. I woke up from a phobic nightmare after about 4 hours of sleep. I reached for my bottle of xanax to stave off the oncoming panic attack, but I realized i had taken my last ones a week ago.
My oh-so-caring doctor made sure to forget to refill my prescription, so i rolled a shaky cigarrette, and tried to stop the flow of tears, which came flowing in minutes. I cried for about 15 minutes or so until I had finished my second cigarrette in a row, then breathed and stretched until i felt well enough to get up.
School, work, and now a girl... I'm too far over my head, already, but in no way do I feel fulfilled in my life.
Fuck. Just one day at a time...
My oh-so-caring doctor made sure to forget to refill my prescription, so i rolled a shaky cigarrette, and tried to stop the flow of tears, which came flowing in minutes. I cried for about 15 minutes or so until I had finished my second cigarrette in a row, then breathed and stretched until i felt well enough to get up.
School, work, and now a girl... I'm too far over my head, already, but in no way do I feel fulfilled in my life.
Fuck. Just one day at a time...
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