Slave to the Grindhouse

Enough with the dreariness for now and let me talk about something not depressing and esoteric for once. As I have written a couple of weeks back, I celebrated a milestone when I shifted jobs, from a glorified link monkey to an actual writer/editor. I have nothing bad to say regarding my previous work, as I learned a lot about SEO during my time with the company. However, after a year with the company, I got stuck doing the same thing over and over. My professional and personal growth stopped, so I have to transfer from this sinking ship before I become consumed by the sea of mediocrity. Maybe I'm just not up to snuff with organic link building or SEO in general, although my interest with said industry remains at a high.

But I do feel better when I write. There's something peaceful and beautiful in the solitude of writing. It makes me feel in control of everything. My words don't tell me what I did wrong or the mistakes I've made (unless my boss says so). I create my own world where I flail my strangeness and nobody gets hurt, nobody cares because no one's there. Simply put, I'm glad my back to my comfort zone.

But why did I leave in the first place? Writing didn't provide the most professional growth a couple of years ago when opportunities were limited to adult copywriting and article writing, both of which I did in stride. But enjoying my time writing about shemales and armoire cabinets for the 394205 made me realize that things aren't going to get better from here. So like my most recent job outing, I got rid of pornography and keyword variations of "wood armoire cabinets" from my vernacular and went on board as a technical writer for this impressive-looking company. However, there's really nothing impressive about a company that doesn't really have any writing involved. Apparently, I'm a "course developer." Not really bad by any stretch because I get to play around with Adobe Captivate and create instructional videos. Except there's one thing: that's not what I applied for. Off I go again.

Looking back at my employment record, I never lasted more than two years with a company. It's sort of sad because, from the moment I was introduced to the team of my latest job, I felt old, literally. Most of my co-workers, if not all, are two years my junior. Worse, some of them are working with a better job post than I am. I'm not being bitter about my situation -- which puts me in the best possible position at the moment -- but staying at one work and breeding longevity gets people to places. Simply put, my impatience with life proved costly, in addition to poor choices along the way.

That, and I really need to get my shit on track. Really. I've been wallowing in the mess that I've created and it's time to emerge from the pool of suck.