Every time I rant in my column, my boss comes back and tells me that if I rant people won't listen to me.
Every time he comes back and tells me that, I tell him that people aren't listening to me anyway.
It should be unsurprising that, given how great my weekend was, the week following it has been, well, less great. I don't want to be too down because it hasn't been awful, but by 4 p.m. Monday I was asking if it was Friday yet. That generally doesn't happen until at least Tuesday night and more often Thursday.
So since I can't run away and leave everything behind, I'm just going to complain a little bit.
First, a woman felt prompted to call me. Three times. A prompting is an LDS term, and I don't mean to make light of something that I take seriously. However, it doesn't belong in the newspaper. I am not more likely to do something for someone who's trying to seem pious. When people ask me (the journalist, not the person) if I'm LDS, I don't tell them. If their pitch can't stand on its own, that's where it stops. Guilt also doesn't help because, as the people of this county have discovered, I have no soul.
Then I got into a yelling match with my boss.
Then I realized I'd overlooked an insanely important (to other people) event, and it completely trashed the newspaper. I'm a news snob, and I hate when less important things get in the way of news. In today's gladiator market, pretty much everything gets in the way of news. I grouchingly put up with ads because, well, I like getting paid. I grouchingly put up with everything else because, well, my opinion doesn't actually matter.
Then I struggled trying to find a column idea and finally came up with an issue that means a lot to me — women's rights. I wrote what I thought was a well-presented argument and my boss thought was an anti-man screed. Privately, I do sometimes feel like the culture in Utah oppresses women, or at the least does not encourage their involvement like it should. Publicly, to avoid calls for my head and/or church membership, I toned down the Amazon warrior princess.
To add to that, I am in pain, although it's my own dumb fault; I layered hiking with lots of verticality with 800 reps that included pretty much my entire body and then threw in 14.5 miles of running, all in a 96-hour period. Everything hurts — not like I'm sore, but like I've been beaten. I actually was playing dead on the floor during the fake quake yesterday because I could not move.
And then tonight this happened:
D-bag trying to hit on me: rm eh? cool .. good girl? hehe
Followed closely by:
"do you own a bikini?"
My response was, "Are you kidding me?"