Today I embark on a new (actually, continuation) of a journey I was once on. I was with an amazing company for 3 years. I helped set the store up and, sadly, I helped shut it down too.
Now that i’ve relocated to Vancouver, there’s another location. I was lucky enough to get hired and today is my very first day. I’m so happy to be able to utilize my art supply knowledge once again. I’m a bit rusty so i’ll definitely need to refresh and revive my memory. It’s incredibly nice to be able to ramble about different products and connect with customers on a creative level. It also helps to inspire me and keep my creative flow going. I also love the fact i’m going to meet new, local, likeminded people.
I’m finally focusing more on myself. I have to help my Mom clean out a car soon. I need to go to costco and return bottles. Life goes on. I still need to work more on my Retrophiliac & Co. bags…but all in due time, right?
I have been suffering from some of the worst anxiety lately. Sleepless nights accompanied by cold sweats, tossing and turning and waking up repeatedly. I’m irritated during the day and I want to be silent at night.
I’m wholeheartedly frustrated.
I feel like I’m someone who can relate to a fuzzy picture on an old television. Sometimes it’s in focus and sometimes it’s just completely static.
When I reach out to corporations and companies I hope my time is valued. I hope that the work I put in to it is either offered with some kind of trade like being provided a service in exchange for a review.
So here I am.
I approached one of the largest computer/tech companies.
They are trying to create a resurgence in the marketplace with products marketed to Millennials in hopes that they will be converted from silver products to colourful cubes. Oh, did I mention their net worth is 200+ BILLION DOLLARS?
Naturally, I would have expected compensation for my time. Knowing a computer is an expensive and hefty piece of equipment to offer me, I would have been happy with money that I could use to reinvest in items for my blog (a microphone?!) to better my content.
Apparently this corporation does not have the budget to pay me to essentially borrow their item and spend time analyzing it and reviewing it. I am just entirely blown away and what I’m trying to do is show neurodiverse (and neurotypical) individuals products that would enhance life. I like to interject my own humour and thoughts. I love to interact with all of you and hear your precious feedback.
Brands: Please value our time as bloggers. If you say you’re going to cross promote us, please post our content on your website and channels as well. Please provide us some kind of incentive and show us that we are appreciated. Please WORK with us.
I was born near the end of the 80s. A time of plenty.
My entrance in to the world was a rocky one. I was born with a couple of birth defects and had surgery shortly after I was born. I had another surgery months (or weeks?) later.
I grew up in an upper class neighbourhood (in Vancouver, BC Canada) in a big pink house that wasn’t much older than me with my family being the very first owners. The houses surrounding us were mostly heritage homes, few of which are still standing today.
I attended a religion-based private/community school from Nursery 3 up until the 6th grade. It was horrible and I spent nearly every day crying. I’d start my day with a sense of dread, spend the middle of the day battling with my own self esteem as those around me diminished it any chance they got. I’d come home and have one of my parents ask me how school was or what I did. It was the last thing I wanted to answer and I would get scolded for being evasive.
I then transferred to a private school and the very same problems followed me there. 6th grade and part of the 7th grade. I wanted to vanish, forever. The kids were just as cruel but they didn’t spend 9 years of their lives growing up with me- not that it made any kind of difference.
I transferred schools again, this time it was a multi-modal program with another very high price tag for me to attend (yes, the last two schools definitely cost notable chunks of change). I had made a couple of friends, but I still felt like I wasn’t supposed to be there. I wasn’t sure where I would ever fit in. This time, it was a couple of teachers that I clashed with. Mr. H – he got mad at me through my ’emo’ years for wearing a spiked bracelet. He told me it was banned and that I was NEVER to wear it again. I kept asking why? What was wrong with it? I didn’t get a solid answer. I was very upset. I went to the office and the receptionists were talking about me right behind my back. I called my Mom and within NO TIME at all she came to the school and confronted the teacher. She asked him, point-blank, if he thought it was some kind of “S&M thing” and he wouldn’t say anything! She then confronted the receptionists and they admitted they were talking about me.
I love my Mom so much, she’s always been my #1 and ALWAYS been there for me. She’s my best friend.
The second teacher, Mr. F was the art teacher. He told me once that all my art looked the same and constantly excluded me from events that were meant for everyone. It was a struggle to KNOW that i was purposely left out.
This is Part 1 of my story. If you’re interested in knowing more, please let me know.
Creating videos is something i’ve grown to love. I wanted an opportunity to showcase some of my favourite art i’ve made. It would mean a whole lot to me if you could watch this video!
Navigating Life 