Hi. I'm Jessica Rose Parlay. :) Feel free to call me Jessie or Rosie, if you so desire. I typically go by Rosie on the 'Net.
My reason for being here is simple: I have discovered that I simply cannot stand desk jobs. I know there are plenty of people who like them and do well at them--I'm friends with several, actually. I also have nothing against them, especially the ones where they give you an office or let you decorate your cubicle instead of having a stick up their butt about people being individuals, and I have nothing but respect for my friends who rock their positions as desk jockeys. I just cannot stand to do those jobs myself.
I do know, however, that I also am not likely to make much as a blogger--not doing that by itself, anyway. No worries--I have no intentions of making myself dependent upon my blogging income, not even when I can. I've never been one to put all my eggs in one basket, anyway, not even with my savings.
No, I have plans for this little endeavor. The blog is just the beginning. I have several webcomics in the works, and I hope to have a YouTube channel up and running within a month or so. I also have a novel that I've been cooking up for a couple of years that I think I'm just going to bite the bullet and finish writing, then see what comes of it. I'm not going to promise any sort of schedule for anything yet, since my life has this horrible habit of dumping upon my plans. I might be moving within a year or so, as well. We'll see.
I suppose I should say a little more about myself as a person, my history, maybe.
Let me see. I (thankfully) quit my old job a little bit after I moved back in with my parents to help my mother with my father, who, at the time, was terminally ill. I couldn't figure out why I hated it so much when I liked my boss, my coworkers, my clients, and even my boss's boss. I liked meeting up with my clients, too. Now I think it was simply a matter of it being a competitive job, where we sort of pitted ourselves against other employees to earn bonuses and awards, instead of one where we were a team or simply let be to do our jobs. I learned from selling magazines for my high school club fundraisers that I just do not function well in that environment--why I could not see that that was what was wrong, I do not know.
I started a part-time teaching job--which is what I am still doing--to have some sort of income while I was at home and like that much better. Actually, I'm considering going back to school for an education degree, now that I have the time for it.
Speaking of having the time for things, I sometimes wish I didn't have the time for them. You probably gathered from the past tense when I mentioned my father's illness above, but yes, my dad did die. I feel selfish for wanting to have had more time with him. Terminal illness takes a lot out of a family, and any fool could tell I hated watching my dad suffer.
That does not keep me from wishing, though.
However, Dad would have raised an eyebrow or two at me for sitting around and wallowing in my grief instead of doing things with it and with myself, and just letting the crying come as it will, so I don't. Sit and wallow, I mean. Wallowing is for pigs, and while I have heard that pigs make excellent ballistic tests when one wants to find out what a certain sort of gunshot would do to a human body, I am not a pig, regardless of what the jerks in my middle school would have told you.
And no, I have not daydreamed about using the above jerks for ballistics tests. I disliked them, but I did not hate them. A lot of them were picked on, too.
You may hear more about the jerks in middle school and my dad's illness. I've worked out much of my issues with them, but not all. I let it come as it needs to, because I have better things to do with my life than sit on my floor and navel gaze. After all, what's the use in working out my issues if I don't let it show in my life?
Well. I shall probably write more on myself later, but I think that's enough for now. The one thing I probably should tell you before I go is that my writing style changes with my mood. Large words and clever turns of phrase come and go, and so does Jane-Austen-era letter-writing formality, as you might be able to see already if you look closely enough. I just write it the way it comes out and let it be, so Shakespearean epithets and twenty-letter words from Webster's Collegiate Dictionary (which, yes, I do like to read for fun) can show up side by side with bleeped cusswords and slang that would be more at home at UrbanDictionary.com than in a Webster's. The only editing I do is when something is meant to be an essay. :)
Oh, also, I have some art and rants up on MyBrokenRoseUnfold.deviantArt.com if you would like to look at them. Feedback, there and here, is always appreciated. Let me know if there's something you'd like to see drawn or would like to hear about--I plan on making this particular blog about "whatever I please to write this time."