Posted in business, Djing, Life decisions, Performing, poetry, Thoughts

MAY DAY

National poetry month

So national poetry month is over but it doesn’t have to stop for you, poet.  You need to take what you learn and build on it. Plus, these prompts are always there to be reused for future poem ideas. So speak, poet. Speak.

May Feelings

The month of May has a different feeling my life.  Since being terminated on Star Wars Day (May 4th) last year,  I changed my direction from being unemployed to being unemployable.  I started to rebuild A Serious Production from a music production house to a mobile DJ service and podcast production house.  I was fustrated with working for companies that I didn’t care about completely.

This constant struggle to push myself just for a paycheck was insulting.  I wanted to build my accounting career to experience all categories of accounting but I realized that will never happen in a single company. The accounting profession is greater than what is used in business.  I started to feel a distaste to office politics. So, I redirected most of my time to build a DJ career than accounting.

CharRon the DJ

I have been performing as a DJ / turtablist with a band, group, and solo in clubs, parties, festivals, bowling lanes and sandwich shops for 12 years. I have several recordings of music that I have performed on. I own a CDJ and turntables and still carry a collection of records, CD, and mp3s(I used to have a backpack of cassette but I got rid of them.). So, it occur to me, that I could this for poetry slams, comedy shows, events, and conferences.

So I invested my unemployment money into my own company and purchase the necessary items: a sound system, controller, wireless mics, par lights, insurance, licensing, and start-up fees. The mobile DJ business was to be my calling card to interact with different people who had different taste in music.  This is a sure fire way to hear different genres of music that I would not hear on my leisure.

So, I am a official business owner of A Serious Production in Sacramento. Plus, I got hired to DJ/MC with an entertainment company called Firehous Entertainment for 5 month now.  I am, also, the show DJ for Comedy Burger and Sac unified Poetry Slam.  So, I can add to my resume the title: professional freelance DJ. I do have goals that I am striving for and will acomplish soon.

I also produce podcasts. I have done my own podcast, RES on the GO, on Soundcloud. But I am highly regarded for producing the growing podcast called Fat Chicks on Top with my partner Auntie Vice. I am working with other potential client with their idea and planning on making them a reality.

Pretty good for an unemployed accounting clerk turn DJ / business owner. Check out my company, A Serious Production, by clicking the link: here.  Plus, I will give a 20% discount on all services by informing me about the blog post.

 

Posted in Life decisions, poetry, Thoughts

The Office (Day 6)

Pass beyond a security door and enter large room to meet the time clock. The clock is a Nazi but that is okay, I have to punch it daily. I sit in a 4X5 cubic space in the center of the room. The enclosure has no window to eliminate the distraction of scenery and time. Pictures of beaches fill Bob’s cubicle wall but time carry a knife and comes by every hour to prick our necks. A reminder that our lives lost time. Time kills.

Gluten-free Jeanine silently finishes the last danish from the coffee table. This room would be a quiet place if, not for the tap, tap, tapping on the keyboards.

I monitor the monitors monitoring me. An audiovisual stand-off. As artificial lighting overhead illuminates. Jane tolerates a migraine daily. My calendar is my conscience that ponders what I ponder: garbage in – garbage out.

Dave got fired yesterday. Vultures circle his unmanned desk. I got dibs on the multi-colored markers.

From the break room, the smell of burnt popcorn wafts. It is the perfume of the damned. I scrap together six coins to pay the dealer’s new price: A-3, Snicker bar, please. Office refrigerator stores memories of employees long gone. Passive aggressive notes mark our slow descent into hell. Keep your hands off my sandwich – Phil. Boss brings her special creamer to work and signs her name on it. A sharpie will not stop me. I dump half in the sink and leave a thank you note from Phil.

I trick myself everyday by saying I belong here and this is what I deserve. My therapist says I’m in an abusive relationship with my job.

Yesterday, there was a training video about office shooters. Not sure, if it was prevention or tutorial. Will see how the next evaluation goes?