Women in NYC

I'm surprised there are any left. The less attractive women get ridiculed for being less attractive, and any woman who is mildly to extraordinarily attractive has to deal with varying degrees of sketchy ass mo'fos staring, whistling and in far too many cases, harrassing them as they walk by. Now, I'm not saying that men should not admire the female form. I'm all for admiration and checking out and the like. But there's a degree of disturbing that many a NYC man seems to not comprehend. For example:

Scenario 1: You're walking down the sidewalk and a sexy lady is walking in the opposite direction. Assuming you are attracted to sexy ladies, you give her the once over (in other words, check her out) and then smile (or don't) and go on your way.

Acceptable.

Scenario 2: You're walking down the sidewalk and a sexy lady is walking in the opposite direction. You stop everything that you are doing to stare directly at her as she walks past you. You stare at her face, her rack, her legs, and she walks past you, you stare at her ass. You stare so blatantly that the blind guy across the street notices and feels ashamed to be a man.

Not acceptable.

And no, I'm not making scenario 2 up. I've seen it (minus the blind man part...honestly, he'd never be able to tell). I've also heard guys make unbelievably crass comments to women as they walk by. 10 out of 10 times, the women either ignore him or respond in an unfriendly way, and the man then typically threatens them or call them bitches.

Also not acceptable.

I realize there's a machismo unintellect here. I understand some women are so hot you can't help but check them out. But seriously, do you expect to get a chick's number by calling her "Sweet tits" and telling her you love that sweet ass? Although I suppose the type of guys making those comments typically don't wait for permission to penetrate, if you understand what I mean (they prefer the ol' unconsentual sex strategy, in case you didn't understand). Either way, I'm surprised women here tolerate it. If I had sleazy, creepy, smelly women (or men for that matter), harrassing me and threatening me everywhere I went, I'd probably punch one in the face or stab one something.

The point is: Despite a few anitmomical differences, women are human, too. Sometimes very beautiful humans that will let you see them naked. So maybe we should be a little more respectful.

Not-so-funny blogging at work.

If blogging at work were illegal, and it might be, there are definitely a lot more people that would be in more trouble than I would be.

Once again I reside in self-doubt: Am I good enough to get into advertising and stay there? Once I'm in, if I get in, will I be as successful as I want to be? Am I too lazy to do it? Do I lack the self-discipline and work ethic to make it? Is it possible for me to actually develop an idea that really takes off and impresses the people in a position to hire me? Do I even write that well to begin with?

Then from another angle: Why am I so hell-bent on doing my best work as spec comps in my "student book" so that I can spend the rest of my career being told to "tone it down" or make it less "controversial" by some guy (or girl) whose balls (or ovaries) shriveled up a long time ago and refuses to take any sort of risk whatsoever? Why am I so driven to dive headfirst into a shallow business full of demented politics, a bleak present and an uncertain future? What is really driving me to put myself through all of this? What drives me to become part of a business that most people despise and are considered bizarre if they spend more than 30 seconds a day thinking about?

Maybe all these questions mean I don't belong. Maybe it means I'm normal. I don't really know.

What I do know is that I seem to be a hilarious person (according to several sources), but am an absolute failure when it comes to taking that hilarity and applying it to advertising. I can draw funny pictures. I can tell funny stories. I can make my friends, family and people I barely know laugh out loud. I've even, on occasion, made people laugh so hard they've cried. But for the life of me, I can't bring my funny into advertising. And I don't know why.

Suffice to say, I feel a bit lost. Should I stop all of my "woe is me" bullshit? Yeah, probably. But for right now my heart is a little heavy as I contemplate "giving up the dream," as I have so wonderfully dubbed it. Of course, my dreams still fluctuate like I'm eight years-old, so who really knows what it is I'm giving up. I just hate being called a quitter.