Hello, non existent readership....

I must write. One of my too-late-to-count new year's resolutions is to blog here everyday. That frequency could prove outlandish due to my lack of motivation for much these days. Alas, there is no excuse as I still do not have a job in New York. Oh bother! The good news is that I have the third and final interview with a clothing line I adore this coming Monday. Yes, I did make it to the last round. I am not overjoyed yet. Low expectations grant a low percentage of let downs. God, I am such a debbie downer.
Memphis, I miss your clean(er) air, your sky full of stars outside my little farmhouse, the nooks worth hours of exploring and driving about. I do not miss the drama of midtown and a few of you folks who have no class. It's true. I actually believe I truly 'hate' someone. For those who know me, really know me, you know my heart is true and loyal. Crazy in the head, yes, and well aware. Also, prone to panic attacks, full of obsessive compulsive disorders, tired, neurotic.... okay. Finished there. It truly took a lot for a true dislike to rear it's nasty self and mature into a Hate. Overall, life is good and moving upward. I am not too starving and I am loved. I could be in a worse city while depressed. Like Memphis. Or, Houston. Gross.

Love always and forever till you fucking cross me, Candace

My resume.

Moved to NYC early November. Still no job. I've been applying and hustling myself betwixt bouts of depression and breakdowns. It's been a rough ride. The roughest and toughest and loneliest time in my life, well, the second loneliest time ever. No need to expound on the former. Just trust me, it sucked. Sooooo I'm posting my resume here for everyone, no one and anyone to let me know what the hell is wrong with me. Not enough experience? Starting a business, getting married and graduating college concurrently was not a good idea? A deterrent to my maturation? The whole process of having to create a resume for the first time was a downer. If I was 21 years old, maybe this would look alright. I'm not. An old woman and a month away from 30. Old. The formatting got messed up in the copy/paste process. Go ahead, bring it all on at once. Woe is me.





37 Driggs Avenue apt. 3c
Brooklyn, ny 11222
901.262.6610
candacecmills@gmail.com

CANDACE MILLS

OBJECTIVE


Seeking employment as a representative for a gallery or arts organization or the fashion industry.

EXPERIENCE


2 Chicks and a Broom—Memphis, TN (June 2002-September 2008) Owner


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Developed concept of Memphis’ first and only green cleaning company
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Moved company from a home office to a commercial location
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Opened a retail store to the public.
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Conceived and co-authored training handbook
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Managed payroll and acted as office manager
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Responsible for all advertising. Coordinated local music and art events to promote business. Hosted annual party, funds of which were donated to local charities
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Acted as liaison with accountants and lawyers
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Hired and oversaw 28 independent contractors and 2 full-time staff
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Managed scheduling of 800 clients with employees, as well as all client feedback
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Administered training and monitored work performance of independent contractors and staff
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Acted as representative of business in Memphis Area Women’s Council


T.R. Mills Contractors, Inc- Memphis, TN (August 2006- February 2007) Office Manager


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Assisted company in duties of payroll, accounts receivables, contract preparation and job bids.
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Ensured all contracts and regulations documents of projects were current and in accordance with governmental or legal regulations.
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Received cash and check receipts, maintained ledger book and computer record of bank deposits
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Wrote and distributed employee and contractor checks
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Posted billing and ran various invoices for member and non-member agencies




EDUCATION


Alt.consulting: FastTrac program for entrepreneurs, 2005


University of Memphis: Bachelor of Arts, 2003

Major: Modern European History


Institut Catholique de Paris: Summer program, 2001

REFERENCES
*********I will keep these private. My list is badass and makes me smile. ************

Lou Reed Reading last night in NYC and this is what I have to say....

Lou, please leave the poetry to gutter punk luddites and Hallmark. Seriously, I don't want to go as far as saying you are presently maladapted for the prose.....okay, I'm saying it!!!! Stay off the verse. You've done it, those who have brains paid attention and are passing on their records to the young ones. I was way to old and cynical to be there. Last night I endured what was my first and probably last poetry reading I will ever attend for the rest of my days. Lou Reed read from his new exhaustive book, weighing in at 1.1 lbs, full of every lyric the man has written. He read a bit, answered questions such as "what is cool?" and "what's your favorite modern R&B?", sighed, then read a bit more. Some bullshit hipster in the audience with his "Alice's Restaurant" hat and comic irony mustache (A.E., thx) felt the need to make Lou regret asking the audience to answer a question. This dipshit took this moment to yell out his thoughts to ol' Lou, bypassing query at hand and ignoring all the folks who followed the rules by writing their thought down on paper and placing it in a fish bowl to be approved by the moderator. I wanted to truly kick this kid in the teeth. Anxiety set in and I knew, if I moved towards the exit, everyone standing behind me would curse my rested tush and lust for the wooden chair I abandoned. It was standing room only and I was in the thirdish row to the right of the stage. The man is a legend, I am well aware of his historical significance. He is one to respect, and, one to stop listening to after you turn 18-20 years old. Please, do not put his record on unless you are alone, it has some serious personal significance you want to attempt to share, or if you are writing some research paper. For seriousness. He looked banging, very healthy. He oozes cool. Perpetual ooze, a pool of insatiably cool ooze from his pores no band aid can hold back. That description kinda made me nauseous. I felt honored to see with mine own eyes someone who lived through the factory years, Warhol, heavy drug use, and not be a vegetable. It's a feat, no doubt. Now I knew I could actually push that ol' envelope a little harder and deeper. If Lou is breathing, my heart will stay beating. jokes. The two Dudes sitting in front of me, definitely two dudes from the same dude cloth, felt badass just being there. You could tell if you paid attention or have a lack thereof such as myself. One had an incredibly distinct balding hairline and the other wore a tattered red bandana to probably cover his Daddy Warbucks crown. Lou delivered a line about having a "one night fuck" and, of course, the Dudes nodded in accordance that a passing screw by the Hudson in the wee hours of the morning would rock their world, or, 'they've been there'. I honestly doubt they've been there. Unless they paid for it. Even then and if, they missed the whole point of what the words were about. One of the Duderstein's got up and helped himself to an Old Hollywood Celebrity photography book for sale during the reading!! This guy needs to remove himself from my view. Take Arlo Guthrie with you, douchebag. I'm not saying I dawdled my time away. One can learn something from anything, and, as anyone knows, I am up for ANYTHING! I'll try anything twice. maybe. So, I did. So what if I wanted to disappear when Mr. Reed began his rewritten version of The Raven by Poe. I cannot help it. Made me wonder if his next choice would be a Macbeth or Bukowski rework. I must be an awful person. The closing words did come and chairs were moved out of the way. My body began to move, not to the exit, but, to the front. Did I want to meet him? My body did. He still made me feel okay, like he did when I was a young Candace. He still let me know that things were gonna be alright, and, I sincerely wanted to thank him. The line of people waiting for an autograph was entirely too long. I did not need to tangibly know that I was there. I would not forget being there. If I did, I could read this ridiculousness I'm writing now.

Gotta go, laundry day.

What I want for christmas.....

Please, somebody get me this!

New York Times review.....

Another artist in the confessional tradition is David Heatley, whose first book, “My Brain Is Hanging Upside Down,” seems to encompass every uncomfortable thought he’s ever had about sexuality, race and his family.

The section “Sex History” is just what it says it is: Heatley’s nearly complete sexual history, from childhood games onward, documented in more than 700 tiny, doodly, wobbly-lined panels (although he draws a discreet veil over his relationship with his wife). It’s riveting for prurient reasons, of course, but also for its apparently comprehensive honesty: he’s perfectly willing to come off as a callow jerk.

“Black History,” a much longer application of the same technique to his relationships with every black person he’s ever known, is a little more coy — he tries to make his internalized racism shrivel up by exposing it to harsh sunlight, but he’s also trying to reassure us that he’s down. (Padding the story with hand written commentary on his favorite hip-hop records was probably a bad idea.)

But the final third of the book, devoted to his family tree, centers on a beautifully unsettling mosaic of comic-strip jokes that seem to be at his parents’ expense but inevitably end up ridiculing his own dealings with them. The book culminates in a lengthy piece about the birth of his children in the context of the generations before theirs: Heatley isn’t the only one, he knows, who’s ever heard a woman gasping and a newborn crying.

I made it.

Thank you, Memphis. I'm out to the bright lights of New York city.

I've been here for a little over three weeks. The cats are adapting just fine. What the hell am I going to get into here, other than trouble? Not sure. Future foggy. This is a quick post. I come with the promise to write more often, draw more comics and get myself involved in my surroundings. I'm destined for super stardom.

I've recorded several new SHM tracks. Give a listen if you have a few minutes to waste.

www.myspace.com/superhatemotel

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