In April, I made a list of movies I wanted to see this year.
As of 6:30 PM this evening I have seen twelve of the thirteen.
Kevin Smith was an asshole in how he release Red State so people like me didn't get to see it in the theater. And that's disappointing.
Here's to hoping next year will be just as "successful."
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Monday, December 12, 2011
I've written it before...
And I may as well again:
It really sucks when the world reinforces the bad things you believe about yourself.
It really sucks when the world reinforces the bad things you believe about yourself.
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Happy American Thanksgiving
As usual, I start this thing with no purpose in mind, just that I want to write something.
Upstairs, my brothers and their wives chat with my brothers' friend. I'm down in my room, in the dark, listening to music and hearing their din. Across the way, the dryer is spinning, zippers http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifbanging against the drum.
A few years ago, Thanksgiving, I flew with my parents up to Oregon to visit with my brother and his (then) girlfriend. We went with her parents out to a beach so people could look for agate. I climbed up on rocks and watched the waves roll in, shatter against the rocks, then slide back out. Someone caught a picture of me out there, looking and I was asked what I was thinking. I thought of nothing, just the ocean. Later that week, I overheard my brother, while he was looking at the photos, say that that picture was exactly how he thought of me.
I still don't know what to think about that.
I'm sort of officially my niece's godfather, without all the god stuff. Not sure if I have to sign anything or just agree to it. I'll probably see her once a year, twice if I'm lucky. There's no way to know for sure, though. I don't know what my role really is other than really hoping that nothing horrible happens to her parents. To be fair, even before this I hoped that nothing horrible would happen to my brother and his wife, so that hasn't changed.
'Night, all.
Upstairs, my brothers and their wives chat with my brothers' friend. I'm down in my room, in the dark, listening to music and hearing their din. Across the way, the dryer is spinning, zippers http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifbanging against the drum.
A few years ago, Thanksgiving, I flew with my parents up to Oregon to visit with my brother and his (then) girlfriend. We went with her parents out to a beach so people could look for agate. I climbed up on rocks and watched the waves roll in, shatter against the rocks, then slide back out. Someone caught a picture of me out there, looking and I was asked what I was thinking. I thought of nothing, just the ocean. Later that week, I overheard my brother, while he was looking at the photos, say that that picture was exactly how he thought of me.
I still don't know what to think about that.
I'm sort of officially my niece's godfather, without all the god stuff. Not sure if I have to sign anything or just agree to it. I'll probably see her once a year, twice if I'm lucky. There's no way to know for sure, though. I don't know what my role really is other than really hoping that nothing horrible happens to her parents. To be fair, even before this I hoped that nothing horrible would happen to my brother and his wife, so that hasn't changed.
'Night, all.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Of Work and House
The second week of October I started a new job, sort of. I have the same title. The same pay. The same lack of respect. I'm not scheduling nurses anymore, though. I'm scheduling inmates for dental appointments. Inmates can't come to me and bitch about why they're scheduled when. They can't make bizarre demands. (No, I can't just schedule you for four days this week. You have to check with your supervisor.)
The problem (and I always have a problem since I, apparently don't know how to be happy) is that I don't use my brain much. Scheduling the nurses, I was constantly solving minor and, too often, major problems. I was always creating alternate plans. When I presented a supervisor of the director of nursing with an idea I had to think though what I was saying to try to convince them that I was right. My job now is just me inputting information into the computer, scheduling guys to see my doctor, and double checking what I just did. It's boring and thoughtless.
It is less stressful, though.
Of course, I'm not really happy and I'm stuck in a small room that has no windows with a lady who's tired of all the bullshit she's had to put up with for the last four year but tries to put a positive spin on things and a lady who just hates her job and her life and is willing to share loudly and in detail. Our boss sticks her nose into everything, and she's nice and all, but she doesn't really know what she's talking about because she doesn't do the work on a daily basis. Sure, she had the basic training and looks at the program every day, but since she doesn't do the work she doesn't know or understand all the details. (I don't either, since I've only been there for four weeks, but I'm learning quickly because I spend most of my eight hour days doing the work.) I ran into this problem when I worked entering data up in North Bay. I don't expect the boss to know I the details of the work I'm doing, but I like it a lot better when the boss trusts his or her subordinates.
Oh, and to top all this off I'm still fucking living with my parents. In a room where the shelf space is taken up with other peoples' crap. And it's been over a year. [sarcasm]Joy![/sarcasm]
Why am I still living with my parents if I don't like it? Well, it all started about eleven-or-twelve-or-thirteen months ago when I decided that I hated the job I was in and had to get out ASAP. That's when my plan fell apart. My original plan was to stay with my parent no longer than the new year. But when I started looking for a new job I thought it logical to not get stuck with a lease when it was possible I'd be working somewhere an hour or more away. (I don't like to drive thirty minutes, why would I drive an hour?) I figured that I'd throw out applications, get a few interviews, and be moved along no later than June. Come June, no fucking interviews. I was still sending out applications, though, to jobs that would be a promotion and jobs at my current level, so by October, for sure!
During the summer I had one interview. It was hundreds of miles to the South and near-ish to the coast. It was a long interview. A good interview. I knew when I left, though, that I wasn't going to get it. They knew that I wanted to promote and this was a job at my current classification level in a city hundreds of miles from my family and the friends they assumed I had. In the end I didn't get it.
A month later, I interviewed, at my current level, for a secretary position for an AW where I work. About six weeks after that, I interviewed for another position at my current level where I work. Eventually, after another week I get offered the first position, I was their second choice, but would rather have the second one I interviewed for. I talked it over with some people and decided the second one was a better choice for me and made sure I was still in the running before declining the first. (I hope this is clear.) When I was finally, officially, offered the second position, I started pulling listings and looking for a clean, well lighted place of my own.
Then, the week before I started, I was asked to an interview up in Cowcity for a promotion. (Last week, which was 3 weeks after the interview, the guy said they still hadn't decided. I'm afraid that he's just a coward and won't tell me that I'm forever trapped where I am.) With the chance of a promotion to a city 100ish miles away, as the car drives, I really shouldn't be thinking of getting myself trapped into a lease. Two weeks after that interview I interviewed up at a prison in Far North Coast. Also for a promotion. (I didn't get that job, but they said that I was would be really good at doing it and should apply for the position again, somewhere else. Of course, there are only 35 positions like that in the whole fucking state and too many of them are in places that I ain't gonna move to.) This week I went and took a test in Cowcity for a different classification. It would be a little less money, but it would get in away from lay-offs and into a place where they do good work and I could show that I work hard and well and they should FUCKING promote me to a higher level.
Hence, I'm stuck in a room where there's a 10-year old computer my pop still uses to load his iPod with. (He won't sync it with his newer computer for some dumb-ass paranoid reason.) A room that has two giant, probably broken, speaker sitting on a half file cabinet. A room with piles of empty boxes because you just never know. A room where I have books and movies in boxes on the floor because the shelves are all taken up. A room that I am continuously told is "my room," but I can't use most of it.
And yet I haven't looked at any kind of place to move, locally, because there's some bullshit optimism in me that keeps telling me that I'll be out of here soon and on to somewhere different, maybe even better.
And so I wallow in myself and I don't do anything. I'm just so very tired, you know? Tired of trying. Tired of hoping. Tired of working. Tired of thinking. Tired. And not in that funny Madeline Kahn way, either.
The problem (and I always have a problem since I, apparently don't know how to be happy) is that I don't use my brain much. Scheduling the nurses, I was constantly solving minor and, too often, major problems. I was always creating alternate plans. When I presented a supervisor of the director of nursing with an idea I had to think though what I was saying to try to convince them that I was right. My job now is just me inputting information into the computer, scheduling guys to see my doctor, and double checking what I just did. It's boring and thoughtless.
It is less stressful, though.
Of course, I'm not really happy and I'm stuck in a small room that has no windows with a lady who's tired of all the bullshit she's had to put up with for the last four year but tries to put a positive spin on things and a lady who just hates her job and her life and is willing to share loudly and in detail. Our boss sticks her nose into everything, and she's nice and all, but she doesn't really know what she's talking about because she doesn't do the work on a daily basis. Sure, she had the basic training and looks at the program every day, but since she doesn't do the work she doesn't know or understand all the details. (I don't either, since I've only been there for four weeks, but I'm learning quickly because I spend most of my eight hour days doing the work.) I ran into this problem when I worked entering data up in North Bay. I don't expect the boss to know I the details of the work I'm doing, but I like it a lot better when the boss trusts his or her subordinates.
Oh, and to top all this off I'm still fucking living with my parents. In a room where the shelf space is taken up with other peoples' crap. And it's been over a year. [sarcasm]Joy![/sarcasm]
Why am I still living with my parents if I don't like it? Well, it all started about eleven-or-twelve-or-thirteen months ago when I decided that I hated the job I was in and had to get out ASAP. That's when my plan fell apart. My original plan was to stay with my parent no longer than the new year. But when I started looking for a new job I thought it logical to not get stuck with a lease when it was possible I'd be working somewhere an hour or more away. (I don't like to drive thirty minutes, why would I drive an hour?) I figured that I'd throw out applications, get a few interviews, and be moved along no later than June. Come June, no fucking interviews. I was still sending out applications, though, to jobs that would be a promotion and jobs at my current level, so by October, for sure!
During the summer I had one interview. It was hundreds of miles to the South and near-ish to the coast. It was a long interview. A good interview. I knew when I left, though, that I wasn't going to get it. They knew that I wanted to promote and this was a job at my current classification level in a city hundreds of miles from my family and the friends they assumed I had. In the end I didn't get it.
A month later, I interviewed, at my current level, for a secretary position for an AW where I work. About six weeks after that, I interviewed for another position at my current level where I work. Eventually, after another week I get offered the first position, I was their second choice, but would rather have the second one I interviewed for. I talked it over with some people and decided the second one was a better choice for me and made sure I was still in the running before declining the first. (I hope this is clear.) When I was finally, officially, offered the second position, I started pulling listings and looking for a clean, well lighted place of my own.
Then, the week before I started, I was asked to an interview up in Cowcity for a promotion. (Last week, which was 3 weeks after the interview, the guy said they still hadn't decided. I'm afraid that he's just a coward and won't tell me that I'm forever trapped where I am.) With the chance of a promotion to a city 100ish miles away, as the car drives, I really shouldn't be thinking of getting myself trapped into a lease. Two weeks after that interview I interviewed up at a prison in Far North Coast. Also for a promotion. (I didn't get that job, but they said that I was would be really good at doing it and should apply for the position again, somewhere else. Of course, there are only 35 positions like that in the whole fucking state and too many of them are in places that I ain't gonna move to.) This week I went and took a test in Cowcity for a different classification. It would be a little less money, but it would get in away from lay-offs and into a place where they do good work and I could show that I work hard and well and they should FUCKING promote me to a higher level.
Hence, I'm stuck in a room where there's a 10-year old computer my pop still uses to load his iPod with. (He won't sync it with his newer computer for some dumb-ass paranoid reason.) A room that has two giant, probably broken, speaker sitting on a half file cabinet. A room with piles of empty boxes because you just never know. A room where I have books and movies in boxes on the floor because the shelves are all taken up. A room that I am continuously told is "my room," but I can't use most of it.
And yet I haven't looked at any kind of place to move, locally, because there's some bullshit optimism in me that keeps telling me that I'll be out of here soon and on to somewhere different, maybe even better.
And so I wallow in myself and I don't do anything. I'm just so very tired, you know? Tired of trying. Tired of hoping. Tired of working. Tired of thinking. Tired. And not in that funny Madeline Kahn way, either.
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Childish Things
Taking a job with the state more than six years ago was probably a mistake. At the time it was a good idea because I needed to get away from 'Bucks. I needed to do something that helped me feel like a grown-up rather than the pathetic man-child I've always been.
I suppose, for a while, it worked. I woke up at the same time every morning. I wore shirts with buttons all the way down the front. I had weekends and holidays off. I made more money than I'd ever made before. Debt was paid. I was working in the grown-up world. No more scheduled by the week coming in at 4:30 AM one day and then working until 11:30 PM the next day.
I never really enjoyed myself though.
When I was a kid, I dreamed the usual dreams of the future. I imagined myself a firefighter single-handedly battling a blazing forest fire. I sat in the Oval Office bossing the army to sweep through the world bringing peace. I drove thousands of head of cattle across the country. I circled the globe over and over with in a boat/plane/submarine/tank hybrid with a martini in my hand. I flew to Mars and placed the first boot print in the ruddy soil. Like every kid, I didn't ever imagine myself working in a regular office pushing paper around. Of course, like so many people in the great ole You Ess of Ay that's where I ended up. (To be fair, my dreams changed as I got older to things that were more possible.)
And as that went on the dreams that could have been possible went away. Not totally away, but they seemed so unrealistic, so unsafe.
Working the normal grind is safe. You go in, do the shit you're told to do, you get paid. You get paid a consistent amount with each check. You know what's coming and you can plan where it's going. Safety is all a paper-pushing job offers, not satisfaction.
Here I sit, still not satisfied. Six years, six long fucking years, stuck in the same classification. Three years since I hit the top of the pay grade. Four-and-a-half years since I had an interview that could lead to a promotion.
Then I start thinking about the kinds of places that I'm likely to be promoted to: analyst, accountant, personnel specialist, paralegal, etc. Do I really want to be any of these things? They are all so far from the sort of things I imagined for myself.
Again, here I sit. I sit thinking about how much I hate where I am in my life. That's certainly something that I never dreamed about.
I suppose, for a while, it worked. I woke up at the same time every morning. I wore shirts with buttons all the way down the front. I had weekends and holidays off. I made more money than I'd ever made before. Debt was paid. I was working in the grown-up world. No more scheduled by the week coming in at 4:30 AM one day and then working until 11:30 PM the next day.
I never really enjoyed myself though.
When I was a kid, I dreamed the usual dreams of the future. I imagined myself a firefighter single-handedly battling a blazing forest fire. I sat in the Oval Office bossing the army to sweep through the world bringing peace. I drove thousands of head of cattle across the country. I circled the globe over and over with in a boat/plane/submarine/tank hybrid with a martini in my hand. I flew to Mars and placed the first boot print in the ruddy soil. Like every kid, I didn't ever imagine myself working in a regular office pushing paper around. Of course, like so many people in the great ole You Ess of Ay that's where I ended up. (To be fair, my dreams changed as I got older to things that were more possible.)
And as that went on the dreams that could have been possible went away. Not totally away, but they seemed so unrealistic, so unsafe.
Working the normal grind is safe. You go in, do the shit you're told to do, you get paid. You get paid a consistent amount with each check. You know what's coming and you can plan where it's going. Safety is all a paper-pushing job offers, not satisfaction.
Here I sit, still not satisfied. Six years, six long fucking years, stuck in the same classification. Three years since I hit the top of the pay grade. Four-and-a-half years since I had an interview that could lead to a promotion.
Then I start thinking about the kinds of places that I'm likely to be promoted to: analyst, accountant, personnel specialist, paralegal, etc. Do I really want to be any of these things? They are all so far from the sort of things I imagined for myself.
Again, here I sit. I sit thinking about how much I hate where I am in my life. That's certainly something that I never dreamed about.
Monday, September 26, 2011
Where are the woods?
I suppose we should talk, Universe (or whatever).
On Friday, you made me, well, not quite happy because I haven't really been happy in a while, but you made me feel good. You gave me a job interview on Tuesday. Not just another interview at the same level, but an interview for a job that would be a promotion. I haven't had an interview like that for four or five years. I guess I was excited.
And that excitement led to a decent weekend of nothing. I watched the first season of Louis. I caught up on e-mail and my feed reader. I was generally lazy, but felt okay about it.
Sure, there were things that happened, things I was told, things that I thought that weren't so great, but I had an interview for a promotion on Tuesday.
Sunday night I couldn't get to sleep. My mind raced with thoughts that I'd rather not repeat. I didn't get to sleep until about four-and-a-half hours before I had to wake up for work on Monday. I had an interview on Tuesday for a promotion, though.
At work this morning I was told, without actually being told, that a nurse is being asked to resign and she will resign, leaving us another nurse short. Then I found out that half our clerical staff are out, but should have been told hours before I did find out. And then, forty minutes before, I got volunteered to take minutes at a meeting I've never been to before and don't know what they are looking for. (Let me put it this way, Universe (or whatever), at a staff meeting you just write down the crap people say. At this meeting they were actually expecting specific things to be taken down because they are important and could come up at a lawsuit.) And I was unhappy, but I kept thinking about that interview for a promotion.
But then, Universe (or whatever), I got an e-mail. And what did that e-mail say? It said that the interviews tomorrow were cancelled. My presence, Universe (or whatever), was neither required nor requested in Cow City.
And I still had the fucking meeting to go to so that I could take minutes.
Fuck you, Universe (or whatever). Fuck you.
Maybe we need some time apart.
On Friday, you made me, well, not quite happy because I haven't really been happy in a while, but you made me feel good. You gave me a job interview on Tuesday. Not just another interview at the same level, but an interview for a job that would be a promotion. I haven't had an interview like that for four or five years. I guess I was excited.
And that excitement led to a decent weekend of nothing. I watched the first season of Louis. I caught up on e-mail and my feed reader. I was generally lazy, but felt okay about it.
Sure, there were things that happened, things I was told, things that I thought that weren't so great, but I had an interview for a promotion on Tuesday.
Sunday night I couldn't get to sleep. My mind raced with thoughts that I'd rather not repeat. I didn't get to sleep until about four-and-a-half hours before I had to wake up for work on Monday. I had an interview on Tuesday for a promotion, though.
At work this morning I was told, without actually being told, that a nurse is being asked to resign and she will resign, leaving us another nurse short. Then I found out that half our clerical staff are out, but should have been told hours before I did find out. And then, forty minutes before, I got volunteered to take minutes at a meeting I've never been to before and don't know what they are looking for. (Let me put it this way, Universe (or whatever), at a staff meeting you just write down the crap people say. At this meeting they were actually expecting specific things to be taken down because they are important and could come up at a lawsuit.) And I was unhappy, but I kept thinking about that interview for a promotion.
But then, Universe (or whatever), I got an e-mail. And what did that e-mail say? It said that the interviews tomorrow were cancelled. My presence, Universe (or whatever), was neither required nor requested in Cow City.
And I still had the fucking meeting to go to so that I could take minutes.
Fuck you, Universe (or whatever). Fuck you.
Maybe we need some time apart.
Thursday, September 01, 2011
Once more unto...
Had an interview today. It was at the place I currently work for a job with the same title and pay as I have now. However I would be learning new things and one of the interviewers, the one in charge of all the clerical staff, said that if the right person were to be found on her staff she'd be aiming to train that person toward an analyst position she's hoping to have created soon.
I was able to curb my moodiness (I faked it, but I never maked it) for about forty minutes of interview. They laughed at the joke I made even before the interview and they set me at ease. I felt good about this one.
'Course my track record about feeling good about interviews has been quite poor.
I was able to curb my moodiness (I faked it, but I never maked it) for about forty minutes of interview. They laughed at the joke I made even before the interview and they set me at ease. I felt good about this one.
'Course my track record about feeling good about interviews has been quite poor.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Thank you, Internet.
Thanks for helping to reinforce some of the most negative things that I believe about myself.
It's nice to know I'm right.
*hugs*
ticknart
It's nice to know I'm right.
*hugs*
ticknart
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Work is what I do to convince myself that I'm not a useless human being.
I just did the math, we really only have 20 slots for RNs where I work. That means the five missing nurses leaves us with only three-quarters our maximum staff. Still, if The Director would let the one guy move to first watch and the extra nurse on third watch was willing to cover one of the relief posts we would only really need one more RN to fill out the schedule.
Unfortunately, The Director seemed to tell me that she isn't willing to let the one nurse go to first watch. Not without meeting with the supervisors at least. That meeting probably won't happen for two, maybe three, weeks. The third watch nurse will have to volunteer after notice is posted about the open positions. Even if she volunteers we have to give everyone fifteen days to bid for the post as well.
In hindsight I shouldn't have been, but I was constantly surprised by the shock supervisors expressed when I told them that with the two RNs promoting we would have five open RN positions. Every one of them was amazed. The insist that they didn't know we were so short. Except several of them were involved with encouraging two nurses to "resign" in the past three months. Two "resigning" and two promoting is four add the other who transferred to a position in Cow City and we get five. Funny how that happens.
The worst thing, and I know it shouldn't be the worst thing, is having all these people telling me to be happy or to smile or blah fucking blah. I hear this all the time. They know I don't smile and I'm not happy because I have a job that I fucking hate, but it doesn't matter to them, and usually I'll make a joke. Today, though I didn't. When told to be happy or to smile I told them no, thanks, I'd rather not. I never stuck around long enough to learn of their reaction to my comment.
I know what my problem is. I can't seem to let go of my fucking job. EVER! If I could I wouldn't have had to write that post last night at 10:30 because I kept dwelling on the bullshit going on there. Even after writing it I stayed in bed staring at the ceiling for at least twenty more minutes. Oh, yeah. Sucks.
And now all I want to do is call in sick. Call in sick tomorrow and for the rest of my life. Or at least for the 350ish hours I have saved up. Fuck them all.
I miss being able to read and actually focus on what I'm reading. I miss being able to write bits of stories to clear thoughts out of my head. I miss hearing a joke from a person or the TV and having the good feeling that comes from laughing linger for a while; now the feeling is gone before I finish smiling.
Unfortunately, The Director seemed to tell me that she isn't willing to let the one nurse go to first watch. Not without meeting with the supervisors at least. That meeting probably won't happen for two, maybe three, weeks. The third watch nurse will have to volunteer after notice is posted about the open positions. Even if she volunteers we have to give everyone fifteen days to bid for the post as well.
In hindsight I shouldn't have been, but I was constantly surprised by the shock supervisors expressed when I told them that with the two RNs promoting we would have five open RN positions. Every one of them was amazed. The insist that they didn't know we were so short. Except several of them were involved with encouraging two nurses to "resign" in the past three months. Two "resigning" and two promoting is four add the other who transferred to a position in Cow City and we get five. Funny how that happens.
The worst thing, and I know it shouldn't be the worst thing, is having all these people telling me to be happy or to smile or blah fucking blah. I hear this all the time. They know I don't smile and I'm not happy because I have a job that I fucking hate, but it doesn't matter to them, and usually I'll make a joke. Today, though I didn't. When told to be happy or to smile I told them no, thanks, I'd rather not. I never stuck around long enough to learn of their reaction to my comment.
I know what my problem is. I can't seem to let go of my fucking job. EVER! If I could I wouldn't have had to write that post last night at 10:30 because I kept dwelling on the bullshit going on there. Even after writing it I stayed in bed staring at the ceiling for at least twenty more minutes. Oh, yeah. Sucks.
And now all I want to do is call in sick. Call in sick tomorrow and for the rest of my life. Or at least for the 350ish hours I have saved up. Fuck them all.
I miss being able to read and actually focus on what I'm reading. I miss being able to write bits of stories to clear thoughts out of my head. I miss hearing a joke from a person or the TV and having the good feeling that comes from laughing linger for a while; now the feeling is gone before I finish smiling.
Nobler?
The shit went down exactly like I thought it would. I left early because I just can't focus on anything right now except thinking about Shakespeare's "undiscovered country."
Monday, August 29, 2011
Office Politics and Fucking Bullshit
Been trying to sleep, but I should can't. Maybe writing this will help. I hope.
Where I work we have about 30 RNs on staff. Now to become a supervisor, you must first be an RN. So, guess where most of the supervisors come from. That's right.
Well, a couple of weeks ago interviews were held for two supervising nurse positions. Three people (only three) interviewed. All of them were from out staff. Our RN staff is currently short four positions. One of the positions is sick relief which is usually an extra nurse on second watch unless someone goes out for a long time. Another post is one that was made up by the asshole because he didn't actually want to think about where to put new RNs when they came to work for us, so it is an extra body second watch, too. Neither of these get filled behind because they are not critical posts. The other empty posts are relief positions, one first watch (from 10:00 PM to 6:00 AM) and the other is third watch (2:00 PM to 10:00 PM) and they are a bitch to fill, but it's been working out for the most part. And as fortune has it a new RN started about a month ago and she'll be slipping into that third watch post starting on the first. Also about a month ago, one of the RNs whose main focus is on paperwork volunteered to be moved into the first watch post; he's not been moved due to politics and fucking bullshit.
Back to the story: two supervisor posts and three RNs interviewing.
Today I was informed, although I think it was more a slip of the tongue on the new boss's part, that both of the supervisor positions will be filled. One will be filled by the nurse who was acting as a supervisor up through the end of July. The other will be filled by the nurse who is completing her training on Wednesday and was supposed to become the third watch relief. The other holds a post on second watch, but the second watch relief person is going to be moved into the newly vacated post. And while I haven't been given an official date I think it's safe to assume this will be happening on Thursday, the first of September.
All three relief positions will be empty.
We'll be down five RNs.
And I'll be the one expected to take care of all this.
How will I do that? Well, we have one nurse from a registry who's willing to do three or four shifts a week. We have a nurse on state salary who will come in for one shift a week second watch only on Saturdays or Sundays. So, let's say that's five shifts a week covered. Five out of fifteen. One third. Let's say that maybe five more will be filled by nurses volunteering for overtime. The other third, well, that'll be filled by forced overtime; making a nurse come in 8 hours early or stay 8 hours later.
And I'll be the one expected to take care of all this.
And that's why I can't sleep.
And horrible thoughts seem a lot more reasonable tonight.
Where I work we have about 30 RNs on staff. Now to become a supervisor, you must first be an RN. So, guess where most of the supervisors come from. That's right.
Well, a couple of weeks ago interviews were held for two supervising nurse positions. Three people (only three) interviewed. All of them were from out staff. Our RN staff is currently short four positions. One of the positions is sick relief which is usually an extra nurse on second watch unless someone goes out for a long time. Another post is one that was made up by the asshole because he didn't actually want to think about where to put new RNs when they came to work for us, so it is an extra body second watch, too. Neither of these get filled behind because they are not critical posts. The other empty posts are relief positions, one first watch (from 10:00 PM to 6:00 AM) and the other is third watch (2:00 PM to 10:00 PM) and they are a bitch to fill, but it's been working out for the most part. And as fortune has it a new RN started about a month ago and she'll be slipping into that third watch post starting on the first. Also about a month ago, one of the RNs whose main focus is on paperwork volunteered to be moved into the first watch post; he's not been moved due to politics and fucking bullshit.
Back to the story: two supervisor posts and three RNs interviewing.
Today I was informed, although I think it was more a slip of the tongue on the new boss's part, that both of the supervisor positions will be filled. One will be filled by the nurse who was acting as a supervisor up through the end of July. The other will be filled by the nurse who is completing her training on Wednesday and was supposed to become the third watch relief. The other holds a post on second watch, but the second watch relief person is going to be moved into the newly vacated post. And while I haven't been given an official date I think it's safe to assume this will be happening on Thursday, the first of September.
All three relief positions will be empty.
We'll be down five RNs.
And I'll be the one expected to take care of all this.
How will I do that? Well, we have one nurse from a registry who's willing to do three or four shifts a week. We have a nurse on state salary who will come in for one shift a week second watch only on Saturdays or Sundays. So, let's say that's five shifts a week covered. Five out of fifteen. One third. Let's say that maybe five more will be filled by nurses volunteering for overtime. The other third, well, that'll be filled by forced overtime; making a nurse come in 8 hours early or stay 8 hours later.
And I'll be the one expected to take care of all this.
And that's why I can't sleep.
And horrible thoughts seem a lot more reasonable tonight.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Eight Down, Five to go!
Out of this list, here are the movies I've seen:
- Your Highness (Stoner movie set in a fantasy world. It kept me laughing)
- Scream 4 (I thought it was great. If the series end here I'm cool. I hope they don't ruin it when they make the next.)
- Thor (So much better than I expected. Is it science or magic? Who care?!)
- Super 8 (Quite good, and so much more violent than E.T.)
- Green Lantern (Committed the cardinal sin of superhero movies: it was boring. So many story telling mistakes!)
- Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part II (Much better than Part I, but that fucking epilogue was there. Idiots.)
- Captain America: The First Avenger (This was so much fun. I'm a little sad, though, that there can't be more set during WWII.)
- Rise of the Planet of the Apes (Just watched this yesterday and it was most excellent.)
Friday, August 26, 2011
"The bluest ink / Isn't really sky..."
I've spent a very large portion of my time at work (15-20%) this week to going through the duties and minimum requirements for a shit load of state jobs because I'd really like to get a fucking promotion. The problem with a lot of the jobs is that I need just a little more schooling, classes in specific subjects, to be qualified. Just 6 semester units. That's all. Two classes. That can be done in one semester, if the classes aren't part of a series. There is, of course, a problem.
I don't know if I want to do the jobs.
Do I want to be an accountant? Do I want to be an actuary? Do I want to work in IT? Do I want to be a paralegal?
I know I can, with the proper schooling/training, do any of these jobs, but do I want to do them?
Every time I ask myself if I want to, the answer is "no." I don't want to balance budgets. I don't want to create tables about death. I don't want to fix other people's computers. I don't want to research case law and slog through legalese.
So, what the fuck do I want?
...
And there's the problem. I'm not sure what I want.
I'd like be somehow involved with the telling of stories, but I'm not moving to the shiny, sparkly circle of Hell (AKA the greater Los Angeles area) or to the other coast. I'm not a city dweller. I live in a city with lots of buildings over five stories and I feel like I'm getting crushed. I can feel the people just pushing in on me from everywhere. (I met with a friend recently. She lives down in the sparkly circle of hell, but in the nicer part, the norther part near the coast. She said that she living near the coast helped. She only feels like she's being crushed from three sides.) And I hate it.
So, choosing not to live in a huge city sort of gets rid of working in a lot of story generating situations, doesn't it?
What do I want to do?
I spoke with my mother yesterday. I mentioned that if I get hired at a job in Cowcity I'm pretty sure that I'd go back to school for my Master's Degree. I won't do an online course because I need to have the give and take that sitting in a classroom provides. Message boards are not as good for me. I'd like an MFA in creative writing, but I'd also be interested in studying theater or film. Oh, and I thought that if I choose to just get a Master's in English wouldn't it be interesting to write a thesis on Fan Fiction? I think it would.
Anyway, she suggested that maybe I sit down with her and my father and discuss me quitting my job and going to school full time at Turkey Tech. For a few seconds it was a very nice offer, but I don't want to live with my parents. The only reason I'm here right now is because I don't want to enter into a lease while I'm looking to get the fuck out of my job. (Although it's been nearly 11 grueling month of this shit. Fuck, that's depressing.) I said that I didn't think it was a good idea.
I'm just going to wait in increasing misery until I find another job and hope that I won't hate it so much that I can't focus on things. Once I can comfortably read a book (I haven't finished one since I read The Phantom Tollbooth in June, I think. Christ, I can't even remember what I may or may not have read. Shit.) that's when I'll be more ready to move on to more mentally intensive things.
I don't know if I want to do the jobs.
Do I want to be an accountant? Do I want to be an actuary? Do I want to work in IT? Do I want to be a paralegal?
I know I can, with the proper schooling/training, do any of these jobs, but do I want to do them?
Every time I ask myself if I want to, the answer is "no." I don't want to balance budgets. I don't want to create tables about death. I don't want to fix other people's computers. I don't want to research case law and slog through legalese.
So, what the fuck do I want?
...
And there's the problem. I'm not sure what I want.
I'd like be somehow involved with the telling of stories, but I'm not moving to the shiny, sparkly circle of Hell (AKA the greater Los Angeles area) or to the other coast. I'm not a city dweller. I live in a city with lots of buildings over five stories and I feel like I'm getting crushed. I can feel the people just pushing in on me from everywhere. (I met with a friend recently. She lives down in the sparkly circle of hell, but in the nicer part, the norther part near the coast. She said that she living near the coast helped. She only feels like she's being crushed from three sides.) And I hate it.
So, choosing not to live in a huge city sort of gets rid of working in a lot of story generating situations, doesn't it?
What do I want to do?
I spoke with my mother yesterday. I mentioned that if I get hired at a job in Cowcity I'm pretty sure that I'd go back to school for my Master's Degree. I won't do an online course because I need to have the give and take that sitting in a classroom provides. Message boards are not as good for me. I'd like an MFA in creative writing, but I'd also be interested in studying theater or film. Oh, and I thought that if I choose to just get a Master's in English wouldn't it be interesting to write a thesis on Fan Fiction? I think it would.
Anyway, she suggested that maybe I sit down with her and my father and discuss me quitting my job and going to school full time at Turkey Tech. For a few seconds it was a very nice offer, but I don't want to live with my parents. The only reason I'm here right now is because I don't want to enter into a lease while I'm looking to get the fuck out of my job. (Although it's been nearly 11 grueling month of this shit. Fuck, that's depressing.) I said that I didn't think it was a good idea.
I'm just going to wait in increasing misery until I find another job and hope that I won't hate it so much that I can't focus on things. Once I can comfortably read a book (I haven't finished one since I read The Phantom Tollbooth in June, I think. Christ, I can't even remember what I may or may not have read. Shit.) that's when I'll be more ready to move on to more mentally intensive things.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Radiolab Rules
I think these were more inspired by that most amazing of NPR shows, but totally worth watching.
Moments:
Symmetry:
Moments:
Symmetry:
Thursday, August 18, 2011
And the shit goes on...
Got another letter today telling me that I didn't get a job that I never interviewed for. To be fair, the letter was vague enough that I couldn't actually tell if they'd done any interviews at all.
It was a nice capper to a shitty day.
Thanks universe.
It was a nice capper to a shitty day.
Thanks universe.
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
I've always been yucky!
I made sure to have dinner well and on the way to being completed by the time The Mother got back from work tonight: chicken was salted and sitting; rice and water was ready and waiting; and the macaroni (noodle? pasta?) salad was in the fridge so flavors could mingle. Today was her first day of school with students. It was rough.
Going to work every day to a job you hate, or are just tired of, or burnt out on is tough. I know because I do that, but the longest I've ever been away from my work was 16 days and it was painful to go back to my job. I don't want to imagine how hard it is for someone to go back after sixty days.
So, I was a good son and made dinner. I also cleaned up dinner. I also choose what we watched while eating dinner, but that was purely selfish. (Apollo from the new Battlestar Galactica co-starred in it.) I didn't mind doing it and I'm always willing to help make dinner, lunch, whatever (I like to cook), I hate being the decider for everyone. I hate it so much. I know it won't be expected of me, but I live in irrational fear.
Oh, "great" and "powerful" "mystical" forces of the "universe," help me to settle my job bullshit once and for all so I'm comfortable enough that I can sign a year long lease. I would appreciate it.
Also, to swing this post in a startlingly different direction, I'm trying to plan a trip to Oregon. At this moment I think a flight up there and a car rental for a weekish and extra stuffs would cost me about $1000. But I'd get to spend some time with those who moved to the hipster place and then head out to see sister-in-law and brother and their baby at there new place. And I could drag brother and niece, since SIL would probably be in school, to the cheese factory and the plane exhibit and generally goof around. I also want to visit other brother and other sister-in-law and use their proximity to go to the Paley Festival. Which to choose? Could I do both? Unfortunately, any plans have to be based around the job bullshit, so like February or March, if I'm lucky.
I've never been lucky, though.
Going to work every day to a job you hate, or are just tired of, or burnt out on is tough. I know because I do that, but the longest I've ever been away from my work was 16 days and it was painful to go back to my job. I don't want to imagine how hard it is for someone to go back after sixty days.
So, I was a good son and made dinner. I also cleaned up dinner. I also choose what we watched while eating dinner, but that was purely selfish. (Apollo from the new Battlestar Galactica co-starred in it.) I didn't mind doing it and I'm always willing to help make dinner, lunch, whatever (I like to cook), I hate being the decider for everyone. I hate it so much. I know it won't be expected of me, but I live in irrational fear.
Oh, "great" and "powerful" "mystical" forces of the "universe," help me to settle my job bullshit once and for all so I'm comfortable enough that I can sign a year long lease. I would appreciate it.
Also, to swing this post in a startlingly different direction, I'm trying to plan a trip to Oregon. At this moment I think a flight up there and a car rental for a weekish and extra stuffs would cost me about $1000. But I'd get to spend some time with those who moved to the hipster place and then head out to see sister-in-law and brother and their baby at there new place. And I could drag brother and niece, since SIL would probably be in school, to the cheese factory and the plane exhibit and generally goof around. I also want to visit other brother and other sister-in-law and use their proximity to go to the Paley Festival. Which to choose? Could I do both? Unfortunately, any plans have to be based around the job bullshit, so like February or March, if I'm lucky.
I've never been lucky, though.
Monday, August 15, 2011
What They Do All Day and How They Feel About What They Do
A week-and-a-half ago I had an interview in Southern Wine Country. It seemed to go well. I mean we talked for about 40 minutes. That's good, right? Still there were some issues. They wondered why I had left my last job, five years long, to work in a prison. They sort of questioned how long I'd be willing to stick with them. And they really seemed confused about me driving 250ish miles (one way) for an interview.
Anyway, today I found out that I didn't get the job. The letter said that there were many excellent applicants and many exceptional interview (of which I was apparently one), but they chose another person.
I'm not really disappointed that I didn't get the job. I don't know if I would have taken it. It wouldn't have been a promotion and the chances for moving up would be just as small there as they were at my last job.
Oh, during the interview I also got the sense that the two people were trying to figure out what was wrong with me because I've been in the same classification for almost six years. I tried to explain it, but it may have come off as whiney.
At least I finally got an interview. Now if only one of the two dozen applications I sent to Cowcity would get me an interview. That would be nice.
When I told my parents about it my dad reached deep into the platitude bag and said, "Something better is coming for you." I reminded him that what I need right now is something different and then reminded him why. He doesn't seem to understand how awful my job is for me, or he chooses not to understand; sometimes I'm not sure which. I know in the past he's had at least one job that he hated and made him miserable and the only reason he kept it was because of his fledgling family (I was four and five at the time) and his desire to keep us clothed and fed. At that time he was lucky and found a job that was much better, but he probably would have taken just about anything that paid comparably. That's the way that I feel right now.
So, here's to hoping for more interviews, even if they don't get me a job because those interviews feel like moving forward even though it's really just spinning in a circle. Spinning in circles can be fun though, no matter what your age.
Also, today I got a huge compliment from my current boss. She said with a brain like mine I need should be able to just promote to the top of where ever I want to end up. She said she wished she had half the brain that I do. She said that even though she doesn't want me to leave she gives me her highest recommendation because she doesn't like the idea of someone like me barely treading water. I don't often feel good about myself anywhere, but especially at work and today I felt okay about being me.
Anyway, today I found out that I didn't get the job. The letter said that there were many excellent applicants and many exceptional interview (of which I was apparently one), but they chose another person.
I'm not really disappointed that I didn't get the job. I don't know if I would have taken it. It wouldn't have been a promotion and the chances for moving up would be just as small there as they were at my last job.
Oh, during the interview I also got the sense that the two people were trying to figure out what was wrong with me because I've been in the same classification for almost six years. I tried to explain it, but it may have come off as whiney.
At least I finally got an interview. Now if only one of the two dozen applications I sent to Cowcity would get me an interview. That would be nice.
When I told my parents about it my dad reached deep into the platitude bag and said, "Something better is coming for you." I reminded him that what I need right now is something different and then reminded him why. He doesn't seem to understand how awful my job is for me, or he chooses not to understand; sometimes I'm not sure which. I know in the past he's had at least one job that he hated and made him miserable and the only reason he kept it was because of his fledgling family (I was four and five at the time) and his desire to keep us clothed and fed. At that time he was lucky and found a job that was much better, but he probably would have taken just about anything that paid comparably. That's the way that I feel right now.
So, here's to hoping for more interviews, even if they don't get me a job because those interviews feel like moving forward even though it's really just spinning in a circle. Spinning in circles can be fun though, no matter what your age.
Also, today I got a huge compliment from my current boss. She said with a brain like mine I need should be able to just promote to the top of where ever I want to end up. She said she wished she had half the brain that I do. She said that even though she doesn't want me to leave she gives me her highest recommendation because she doesn't like the idea of someone like me barely treading water. I don't often feel good about myself anywhere, but especially at work and today I felt okay about being me.
Sunday, August 14, 2011
The beginning is the hardest part. Except for the middle and the end.
So, I've been sitting here trying to convince myself to write something. Not something for the blog, but fiction. A story.
Several weeks ago Queenie posted, "Have you ever had that feeling, the one where you tell everyone that your real ambition is to write, when really all you do is read what other people write?" and I keep thinking about it. I went through this six or so years ago.
I'm sure I've written about it before, but I stopped telling people that I want to be a writer a long time ago. A writer I am not. I do not write. There was a time there, almost two years ago, where I was writing something, that no one here would have read, almost every day. I was working myself up to writing something that I could maybe, possibly send off to someplace where they read the writing and mull it over and decide whether it might work for their publication, or not. Probably not. I was close, though.
I had started a story. I had written down the basic ideas. I'd created a very bear bones outline. (The beginning. A bit about the middle. A huge question mark for the end.) Then I left a job where I was comfortably miserable for a job that's so excruciating, for me, that I'm having trouble focusing enough to read. (It took me three weeks to read The Bourne Identity, and that's not a tough book. I've only read the first section of A Dance with Dragons and can't get any farther. I did, however, breeze through The Phantom Tollbooth, but that book is special.) I no longer even write for that site that I frequent and those were just stories based on a TV show that ended nearly a decade ago.
However, I have ideas.
Ideas are so easy for me. They just bloom and neurons fire and thoughts that seem random start to connect into something larger. If I'm good, I write them down so I'll have them for later. I'm rarely good.
Last week I figured out the beginning, middle, and end of a story idea I've been thinking about for a year. It's not meant for the general public. I've got it figured out, though. But I can't write it. When I try to start my stomach lurches and I'm overcome by a sense of nothingness. The idea is still there, in my head. I can see how it needs to get down in the the bits of the computer. I can't type though. I can't focus. My fingers just run across the keys, feeling them, but not pressing down. And I move off to something else: a funny cat video, or the television, or the darkness under the sheet and blankets. I still feel it pressing on my skull. It wants to get out, but when I tried to type it earlier, nothing. nothing
When I picked my parents from the train station on Friday my mother told me that my brother wants to make an illustrated story about a mythical American animal. She said he didn't want my help, though, because I wouldn't be interested in doing it. The truth is I would be interested. In fact I thought of a story for the animal yesterday, but when I went to e-mail my idea to him I typed two words then couldn't type anymore. Partly because I don't know if it's the sort of story he wants, but mostly because I just couldn't because even if he didn't like the story idea he can start moving in the right direction by knowing what he doesn't want to do. Hell, even when he reads this and says he'd like to know I don't know if I'd be able to type the answer to him. At this point, I don't even know if I could speak it to him.
Several weeks ago Queenie posted, "Have you ever had that feeling, the one where you tell everyone that your real ambition is to write, when really all you do is read what other people write?" and I keep thinking about it. I went through this six or so years ago.
I'm sure I've written about it before, but I stopped telling people that I want to be a writer a long time ago. A writer I am not. I do not write. There was a time there, almost two years ago, where I was writing something, that no one here would have read, almost every day. I was working myself up to writing something that I could maybe, possibly send off to someplace where they read the writing and mull it over and decide whether it might work for their publication, or not. Probably not. I was close, though.
I had started a story. I had written down the basic ideas. I'd created a very bear bones outline. (The beginning. A bit about the middle. A huge question mark for the end.) Then I left a job where I was comfortably miserable for a job that's so excruciating, for me, that I'm having trouble focusing enough to read. (It took me three weeks to read The Bourne Identity, and that's not a tough book. I've only read the first section of A Dance with Dragons and can't get any farther. I did, however, breeze through The Phantom Tollbooth, but that book is special.) I no longer even write for that site that I frequent and those were just stories based on a TV show that ended nearly a decade ago.
However, I have ideas.
Ideas are so easy for me. They just bloom and neurons fire and thoughts that seem random start to connect into something larger. If I'm good, I write them down so I'll have them for later. I'm rarely good.
Last week I figured out the beginning, middle, and end of a story idea I've been thinking about for a year. It's not meant for the general public. I've got it figured out, though. But I can't write it. When I try to start my stomach lurches and I'm overcome by a sense of nothingness. The idea is still there, in my head. I can see how it needs to get down in the the bits of the computer. I can't type though. I can't focus. My fingers just run across the keys, feeling them, but not pressing down. And I move off to something else: a funny cat video, or the television, or the darkness under the sheet and blankets. I still feel it pressing on my skull. It wants to get out, but when I tried to type it earlier, nothing. nothing
When I picked my parents from the train station on Friday my mother told me that my brother wants to make an illustrated story about a mythical American animal. She said he didn't want my help, though, because I wouldn't be interested in doing it. The truth is I would be interested. In fact I thought of a story for the animal yesterday, but when I went to e-mail my idea to him I typed two words then couldn't type anymore. Partly because I don't know if it's the sort of story he wants, but mostly because I just couldn't because even if he didn't like the story idea he can start moving in the right direction by knowing what he doesn't want to do. Hell, even when he reads this and says he'd like to know I don't know if I'd be able to type the answer to him. At this point, I don't even know if I could speak it to him.
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Nixon, FOUND!
My brother and sister-in-law sent a bag of agates back with my mother. I was sorting through it and found one with Richard Nixon's face on it. (He's on the left side of the rock. His nose and brow and angry, squinting eyes.)
Monday, August 08, 2011
A Mixed Blessing.
Pants that once did not need a belt now require a belt, even when the pockets are empty. Belts are just one more thing to get through when there is great urgency in the bathroom.
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Even Tim Gunn knows...
...you don't fuck too much with Superman's costume!
This is the second part of Alan Kistler speakhttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifing with Tim Gunn. Part 1 is abouthttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif Green Lantern. Gunn picks up on Guy Gardner's personality based on the clothes.
This is the second part of Alan Kistler speakhttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifing with Tim Gunn. Part 1 is abouthttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif Green Lantern. Gunn picks up on Guy Gardner's personality based on the clothes.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Fuck Off, World
So, taking this job has been a huge fucking mistake. I should have stayed in the North Bay comfortably miserable.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Acoustal Tunes
For the first time, I left a comment on the Facebook. Twice, actually. A few minutes ago my mother came down the stairs (I just rolled my eyes at myself there. Shit.) and asked me if I'd be my grandmother's friend on Facebook. My answer was that I'd have to think about it for a few weeks.
See, my grandmother is one of the problems I have with the social media stuff. It's not that she's part of it because I think it's great she's part of it and enjoys commenting on stuff 'n such. The problem is that she friends everyone. You own a kind of a dog she likes? She'll friend you. You enjoy extra butter on your popcorn? Friend. You want to pay less taxes? Obviously friend material.
So, lots of friends that she shares so many interests with. So many.
Oh, and then she goes around bragging about how she's friends with a guy in India. Good friends, apparently, because they both like dogs.
That just bothers me.
I know that people who are more extroverted (like everyone) will have more friends than me, but it seems to me that the idea of what a friend is is losing its meaning.
Am I the only one who worries about that sort of thing? Words losing their meanings because we use them in vague, sort of similar way to what they originally meant?
What I'm trying to say is that if I just went out on a thing like Facebook and had a thousand or so friends that I didn't know, didn't write, even blocked their updates, what does it mean when I call someone I know and like and talk with a friend? Does it mean anything at all?
See, my grandmother is one of the problems I have with the social media stuff. It's not that she's part of it because I think it's great she's part of it and enjoys commenting on stuff 'n such. The problem is that she friends everyone. You own a kind of a dog she likes? She'll friend you. You enjoy extra butter on your popcorn? Friend. You want to pay less taxes? Obviously friend material.
So, lots of friends that she shares so many interests with. So many.
Oh, and then she goes around bragging about how she's friends with a guy in India. Good friends, apparently, because they both like dogs.
That just bothers me.
I know that people who are more extroverted (like everyone) will have more friends than me, but it seems to me that the idea of what a friend is is losing its meaning.
Am I the only one who worries about that sort of thing? Words losing their meanings because we use them in vague, sort of similar way to what they originally meant?
What I'm trying to say is that if I just went out on a thing like Facebook and had a thousand or so friends that I didn't know, didn't write, even blocked their updates, what does it mean when I call someone I know and like and talk with a friend? Does it mean anything at all?
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
After the Death of Dobby
Saw Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, part 2 on Sunday. It was a lot better than part 1.
The things that bothered me bothered me when I read the book.
I don't understand why they tacked on that 19 years later thing. The best ending was when they faded out on Harry, Hermione, and Ron after the battle of Hogwarts. I hate the epilogue for so many reasons. Maybe I'll explain better at some time in the future.
The other thing that really pissed me off was that the Slytherins were locked in the fucking dungeon! The whole fucking series was about giving people the chance to do what's right. It insisted that people who were bad could be good. It believed in fucking redemption! And yet the Slytherins weren't even allowed to try to defend their school? Fuck that! (In the book, the Slytherins were just cowards and ran from the battle. That pissed me off.) So, they're all just evil. So much for redemption and trust and fellowship.
Something I liked was the creepiest hug in the world. Great moment.
The things that bothered me bothered me when I read the book.
I don't understand why they tacked on that 19 years later thing. The best ending was when they faded out on Harry, Hermione, and Ron after the battle of Hogwarts. I hate the epilogue for so many reasons. Maybe I'll explain better at some time in the future.
The other thing that really pissed me off was that the Slytherins were locked in the fucking dungeon! The whole fucking series was about giving people the chance to do what's right. It insisted that people who were bad could be good. It believed in fucking redemption! And yet the Slytherins weren't even allowed to try to defend their school? Fuck that! (In the book, the Slytherins were just cowards and ran from the battle. That pissed me off.) So, they're all just evil. So much for redemption and trust and fellowship.
Something I liked was the creepiest hug in the world. Great moment.
Monday, July 11, 2011
"One loyal friend is worth ten thousand relatives."
---Euripides
I just added some people to my Facebook and disregarded a whole lot of others. I feel like I'm a dick.
Okay, I know I'm a dick, but this whole social media thing feels like it's built up of everyone just "friending" everyone who asks. I'm going to do my best to just massively limit myself. Most people won't care what I do anyway. Right?
Fuck. I hate so many things right now that go beyond the usual.
I just added some people to my Facebook and disregarded a whole lot of others. I feel like I'm a dick.
Okay, I know I'm a dick, but this whole social media thing feels like it's built up of everyone just "friending" everyone who asks. I'm going to do my best to just massively limit myself. Most people won't care what I do anyway. Right?
Fuck. I hate so many things right now that go beyond the usual.
Sunday, July 10, 2011
"...the inablity to construct a future."
---Rollo May
I got to work on Friday, pulled out the schedule binder, and took a close look at it. Everything looked good. All posts were filled through the next Saturday. With the exception of a few holes in the schedule, the rest of the month looked good. Nothing to much to worry about. The only thing I had to worry about on Friday was the suicide watch going on in back, and I couldn't take care of it until the guy was seen by a psychiatrist. I thought that if I got everything done, I'd be able to check out early. Why sit around doing nothing at work when I can sit around doing nothing somewhere I don't hate?
The day before, when I got back from work, there was a letter from one of the agencies I'd applied to. I mailed out the application on Tuesday, but I'd applied there several times in the weeks before. I immediately ripped the envelope open and read the short paragraph. Basically, it said that they are looking for the most qualified applicants and I am not going to be interviewed. When I checked my e-mail I had a nearly identical e-mail from a different agency. It's nice to know that after five year and ten months I'm still not qualified to promote. The worst thing was that one of the agencies that turned me down for an interview is a place that I actually believe in what they do. It's a place that even if I hate my job I'd be working on something that I think is good and right and helpful and important.
My mood was a force of darkness surrounding me because when people asked me how I was doing, I told them that I was upset and disappointed. Of course they asked me why and, against my normal operating procedure, I told them. All of them offered to help me in any way they could. How the fuck could they help me? They're not the ones who refuse to give me an interview. They don't have the power to call these agencies and insist they give me a chance. They can't help me! Sure, if I get an interview they'll give me a good recommendation, but it's unhelpful right now and doesn't make me feel better, just more frustrated.
Is it so wrong, oh bastard asshole force of the universe, for me to get an interview? If I'm going to fail, I'd like to fail on my own merits. Give me a fucking chance! Let me put on my long sleeved shirt and a tie with stripes and give it a shot. Let me try to get closed minded assholes to open up. Let me try to convince them that even though I'm a fat, piece-of-shit schlub I'm worth taking a chance on. And if I fail, at least I failed trying. And if it's wrong, jackass universe, why? Why? Just why?
At tenish, I called back to find out about the suicide watch. The guy was with the doctor. I called back after ten-thirty and the watch was on. I called people at home. I called nurse registries. I called people at the facility. I walked around and asked people in person to take a shift or two. I sat on my overblown ass and waited for four-and-a-half hours to hear from people. Out of nine shifts, I filled two. Both, fortunately on Friday. And I wasted a day at work bored. I sat and did nothing. I doodled. I read some fan-fic that I'd sent to myself a while ago and actually finished reading weeks ago. I did nothing.
And all this makes me want is something horrible.
One of the people I talked to tried to pull the bullshit, "This stuff happens for a reason." on me. I don't believe in that anymore, and I told her so. I'm so careful in my life, so guarded, that really bad shit doesn't happen to me. I don't let it. I don't allow myself to get into those kinds of positions. Unless one of my parents dies in the coming week and I'm here to help the other parent, then I don't see how me getting disappointed at failing a job interview warrants the fucking universe keeping me away from these interviews "for a reason." A vague, indefinable, pointless fucking reason.
And my weekend has been me in a funk. At least the new Harry Potter opens next weekend. That'll be two hours away from me and my bullshit and my worrying over things that I'm not quite comfortable writing about here.
God, I... I... Fuck.
I got to work on Friday, pulled out the schedule binder, and took a close look at it. Everything looked good. All posts were filled through the next Saturday. With the exception of a few holes in the schedule, the rest of the month looked good. Nothing to much to worry about. The only thing I had to worry about on Friday was the suicide watch going on in back, and I couldn't take care of it until the guy was seen by a psychiatrist. I thought that if I got everything done, I'd be able to check out early. Why sit around doing nothing at work when I can sit around doing nothing somewhere I don't hate?
The day before, when I got back from work, there was a letter from one of the agencies I'd applied to. I mailed out the application on Tuesday, but I'd applied there several times in the weeks before. I immediately ripped the envelope open and read the short paragraph. Basically, it said that they are looking for the most qualified applicants and I am not going to be interviewed. When I checked my e-mail I had a nearly identical e-mail from a different agency. It's nice to know that after five year and ten months I'm still not qualified to promote. The worst thing was that one of the agencies that turned me down for an interview is a place that I actually believe in what they do. It's a place that even if I hate my job I'd be working on something that I think is good and right and helpful and important.
My mood was a force of darkness surrounding me because when people asked me how I was doing, I told them that I was upset and disappointed. Of course they asked me why and, against my normal operating procedure, I told them. All of them offered to help me in any way they could. How the fuck could they help me? They're not the ones who refuse to give me an interview. They don't have the power to call these agencies and insist they give me a chance. They can't help me! Sure, if I get an interview they'll give me a good recommendation, but it's unhelpful right now and doesn't make me feel better, just more frustrated.
Is it so wrong, oh bastard asshole force of the universe, for me to get an interview? If I'm going to fail, I'd like to fail on my own merits. Give me a fucking chance! Let me put on my long sleeved shirt and a tie with stripes and give it a shot. Let me try to get closed minded assholes to open up. Let me try to convince them that even though I'm a fat, piece-of-shit schlub I'm worth taking a chance on. And if I fail, at least I failed trying. And if it's wrong, jackass universe, why? Why? Just why?
At tenish, I called back to find out about the suicide watch. The guy was with the doctor. I called back after ten-thirty and the watch was on. I called people at home. I called nurse registries. I called people at the facility. I walked around and asked people in person to take a shift or two. I sat on my overblown ass and waited for four-and-a-half hours to hear from people. Out of nine shifts, I filled two. Both, fortunately on Friday. And I wasted a day at work bored. I sat and did nothing. I doodled. I read some fan-fic that I'd sent to myself a while ago and actually finished reading weeks ago. I did nothing.
And all this makes me want is something horrible.
One of the people I talked to tried to pull the bullshit, "This stuff happens for a reason." on me. I don't believe in that anymore, and I told her so. I'm so careful in my life, so guarded, that really bad shit doesn't happen to me. I don't let it. I don't allow myself to get into those kinds of positions. Unless one of my parents dies in the coming week and I'm here to help the other parent, then I don't see how me getting disappointed at failing a job interview warrants the fucking universe keeping me away from these interviews "for a reason." A vague, indefinable, pointless fucking reason.
And my weekend has been me in a funk. At least the new Harry Potter opens next weekend. That'll be two hours away from me and my bullshit and my worrying over things that I'm not quite comfortable writing about here.
God, I... I... Fuck.
Monday, June 27, 2011
Do you know what a "bronie" is?
Work, of course, was awful. I explained to at least six people why having the asshole gone doesn't make my job good. I explained like this: Having him leave is like having ten thorns removed, but there are still thousands of thorns poking.
The reason I think people are so focused on him and me is that he was a point that I could focus on and nearly everyone could understand what I was saying. When I get into the intricacies of what I actually do at that place, I lose people. They don't understand how complicated my job is.
Anyway, I spent the entire day working, except for the the ten minutes I took to eat my lunch too fast, and I didn't actually get anything finished. Well, maybe correcting all the mistakes people made when they tried to "help" me while I was gone. This whole week is going to be catchup.
*sigh*
The reason I think people are so focused on him and me is that he was a point that I could focus on and nearly everyone could understand what I was saying. When I get into the intricacies of what I actually do at that place, I lose people. They don't understand how complicated my job is.
Anyway, I spent the entire day working, except for the the ten minutes I took to eat my lunch too fast, and I didn't actually get anything finished. Well, maybe correcting all the mistakes people made when they tried to "help" me while I was gone. This whole week is going to be catchup.
*sigh*
Sunday, June 26, 2011
I don't think Facebook is a good fit.
So, Facebook. Yeah.
Since I rejoined a few months ago I have had over twenty "friend" requests from people. I have neither confirmed nor denied any of the requests. They just sit there, waiting for a decision. I need to decide exactly what kind of a dickhead I am. Am I the kind of dickhead who just denies the "friending" of everyone who I don't want as a "friend" (which includes grandparents, aunts, uncles, people from high school, alternates Facebook accounts of people, people who know people I know, cousins, old teachers, etc.) or do I "friend" everyone then block the updates from those I don't really know or care about, in a personal sense.
One person who I haven't added wrote me to ask if it's okay that he wanted to be my "friend" on Facebook because I sort of reacted poorly when he wanted to "friend" me on MySpace. I told him the truth, that for now my only "friends" on Facebook are my brothers, their significant others, and my mother.
Another person wrote, "Burn [ticknart] Burn..." after I didn't "friend" him. I wrote back, "Please, explain Facebook etiquette to me." He responded, "It's no big deal. I was just curious to see how you were doing. If you are using FB only for close friends, family, or any other group of people of which I am not a part, I'll understand perfectly. After all, I have most of the 'friends' on my list blocked."
Which leads to the second kind of dickhead, the one who blocks their "friends." I get the idea behind it. Who cares if someone whacked a bush and found a giant cherry? I don't, but even if I block people, they can still see everything that I put up there, if they want. And that disturbs me.
Do you suppose Facebook would allow levels for "friends" so you can control the content you allow people to see? I doubt it, but I'd be more likely to just "friend" everyone if I could.
Another thing about Facebook that disturbs me is how you lose control over your privacy.
I am now tagged in two photos. One shows me in profile, I think, and the other is my knee. I didn't ask to be tagged in these. The person who posted them put my name in. I suppose I could ask for the tags to be removed, but odds are good that someone else would see at least one of them and tag me again.
I think it's stupid, but it's a choice when my aunt decided to get on her phone everywhere and update where she was at every moment during my brother's wedding. She chose to give up that bit of privacy. When you're tagged by people in a photo, you have no choice.
That makes me uncomfortable.
Since I rejoined a few months ago I have had over twenty "friend" requests from people. I have neither confirmed nor denied any of the requests. They just sit there, waiting for a decision. I need to decide exactly what kind of a dickhead I am. Am I the kind of dickhead who just denies the "friending" of everyone who I don't want as a "friend" (which includes grandparents, aunts, uncles, people from high school, alternates Facebook accounts of people, people who know people I know, cousins, old teachers, etc.) or do I "friend" everyone then block the updates from those I don't really know or care about, in a personal sense.
One person who I haven't added wrote me to ask if it's okay that he wanted to be my "friend" on Facebook because I sort of reacted poorly when he wanted to "friend" me on MySpace. I told him the truth, that for now my only "friends" on Facebook are my brothers, their significant others, and my mother.
Another person wrote, "Burn [ticknart] Burn..." after I didn't "friend" him. I wrote back, "Please, explain Facebook etiquette to me." He responded, "It's no big deal. I was just curious to see how you were doing. If you are using FB only for close friends, family, or any other group of people of which I am not a part, I'll understand perfectly. After all, I have most of the 'friends' on my list blocked."
Which leads to the second kind of dickhead, the one who blocks their "friends." I get the idea behind it. Who cares if someone whacked a bush and found a giant cherry? I don't, but even if I block people, they can still see everything that I put up there, if they want. And that disturbs me.
Do you suppose Facebook would allow levels for "friends" so you can control the content you allow people to see? I doubt it, but I'd be more likely to just "friend" everyone if I could.
Another thing about Facebook that disturbs me is how you lose control over your privacy.
I am now tagged in two photos. One shows me in profile, I think, and the other is my knee. I didn't ask to be tagged in these. The person who posted them put my name in. I suppose I could ask for the tags to be removed, but odds are good that someone else would see at least one of them and tag me again.
I think it's stupid, but it's a choice when my aunt decided to get on her phone everywhere and update where she was at every moment during my brother's wedding. She chose to give up that bit of privacy. When you're tagged by people in a photo, you have no choice.
That makes me uncomfortable.
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Saturday's Are Alright For What Now?
So, I've been in a pretty bad mood all day. I've barely gotten out of bed. In fact, I'm in bed as I type these pointless words. The day has been spent wasting time by playing a game and listening to musicals on YouTube. I relistened to A Very Potter Musical then A Very Potter Sequel followed by Me and My Dick and finally Musical: The Online Musical. I recommend all of them. I think I like Musical: The Online Musical because it's a metamusical. The others are just entertaining. If you watch the Potter sequel, keep your eye out for the scarf, my favorite part.
Anyway, even with the music, I've been in a crappy mood. Why? Why? Why? It's because I go back to work on Monday. I'll be at work in less than 35 hours. Shit. Fuck. And celery dammit.
So, I just got done with a conversation with my mother about my going to work on Monday. She told me that (here she apologized) I should think positive because the asshole is gone. To which I said it's not that great because he only made a job that I hate worse. She said that him being gone makes it better. I said sure, but it's gone from super-ultra-mega shitty to ultra-mega shitty; it's just a small change in degree. She said that's it's still better.
And with that I turn off the computer and go to bed, full of nightmares.
Anyway, even with the music, I've been in a crappy mood. Why? Why? Why? It's because I go back to work on Monday. I'll be at work in less than 35 hours. Shit. Fuck. And celery dammit.
So, I just got done with a conversation with my mother about my going to work on Monday. She told me that (here she apologized) I should think positive because the asshole is gone. To which I said it's not that great because he only made a job that I hate worse. She said that him being gone makes it better. I said sure, but it's gone from super-ultra-mega shitty to ultra-mega shitty; it's just a small change in degree. She said that's it's still better.
And with that I turn off the computer and go to bed, full of nightmares.
Friday, June 24, 2011
Blood From a Rock
In my continuing effort to prove how narcissistic and selfish I am:
My favorite thing about my vacation is that I have now fulfilled the quota of weddings that I am required to attend. Both of my brothers are married. I have no sisters. There are only cousins and (quite probably) an uncle left for weddings and while the outside guilt may come pouring in if I don't attend any of those, especially if they're local, I won't feel guilty. If the heartbreak happens and either of my brothers feels the need to get remarried in the future, I do not think I have to attend. I was there the first time, the second will depend on how well I've converted into a hermit.
Some may be wondering (And I feel confident writing that because for an unknown reason I have 36 "followers" according to my Blogger dashboard. I only recognize like four of the names and expect that most of the rest are just advertisers who expect me to "follow" them (HA!), but that leaves a few of you out there who hahttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifve not been reading this here blog for even a healthy portion of its seven year eight month and eightish day existence.), what about my wedding. Well, I still don't plan to ever have a wedding. I do not ever expect to meet someone and fall in love or a comfort zone with and then get married. I am not looking and if something like that comes along I'm sure I'll miss it. If I don't miss it, the fine. There are lots of possibilities. Just know that I am not keeping an open mind when it comes to myself and romance.
My great uncle asked my mom if the next of her boy's weddings could be closer to home so he wouldn't have to drive so far. (He's oldish.) When I heard that I wanted to go and reassure him that there wouldn't be another one, so he didn't have to worry. I didn't, though, I'm tired of explaining things like that to people who know me.
I keep getting it from this one woman at work. She said that she can't believe that I'm not taken. I asked why it's a surprise. She said that I'm so nice, some nice girl should have snagged me by now. I said that I've never really looked for anything like that. She suggested that she has some women I could meet, like her niece or cousin or something. Inside I was horrified because, as a one who judges others and expects to be judged in return, she a bit too much crazy Christan and too white trashy and this women she thinks would be good for me lives with her. Thanks, no. She asked me why not and I told that that even though I'm not the kind of person who plays around, I like just being with myself I don't need or want someone else to think about and worry about. Although that was only part of the answer, she seemed satisfied with it, but she still thinks that someone should snag me soon. With I sigh I was happy to leave that conversation.
I write all of that to tell this:
The brother who got married almost two years ago and his wife came down from Oregon and, of course, my niece was with them. She's just about eight months old and the brother and Sister in Law are really good about sharing her and she likes to be held. Now, I'm not the sort of person who asks to hold a baby. I do enjoy holding them, but I'm never going to ask. I will offer to hold the child if the parent seems to need a hand and I will gladly accept the child if offered, but I will not directly ask to hold it and I will never, ever, just snag it from someone's arms. I think out of everyone at the house for the week and a half I held the baby the least because of the way I am.
Part of it, I think is because I haven't really imagined myself ever as a father since early in high school. (Huh, that's half my life ago.) I am not a childfree person. I just don't expect to have kids. I have issues and I know I have issues and at this moment, and for half my life, I haven't wanted my problems to hurt a kid in any way.
There was a moment during the vacation, though...
The niece was handed off to me. She didn't squirm. She just rolled over into my shoulder, put one arm around my neck, and snuggled in. Everything in me seemed to stop working. If I had a heart it would have melted. And for those few seconds she snuggled, I thought that maybe having a kid wouldn't be such a bad thing.
The thought didn't last though, but it's a nice memory
My favorite thing about my vacation is that I have now fulfilled the quota of weddings that I am required to attend. Both of my brothers are married. I have no sisters. There are only cousins and (quite probably) an uncle left for weddings and while the outside guilt may come pouring in if I don't attend any of those, especially if they're local, I won't feel guilty. If the heartbreak happens and either of my brothers feels the need to get remarried in the future, I do not think I have to attend. I was there the first time, the second will depend on how well I've converted into a hermit.
Some may be wondering (And I feel confident writing that because for an unknown reason I have 36 "followers" according to my Blogger dashboard. I only recognize like four of the names and expect that most of the rest are just advertisers who expect me to "follow" them (HA!), but that leaves a few of you out there who hahttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifve not been reading this here blog for even a healthy portion of its seven year eight month and eightish day existence.), what about my wedding. Well, I still don't plan to ever have a wedding. I do not ever expect to meet someone and fall in love or a comfort zone with and then get married. I am not looking and if something like that comes along I'm sure I'll miss it. If I don't miss it, the fine. There are lots of possibilities. Just know that I am not keeping an open mind when it comes to myself and romance.
My great uncle asked my mom if the next of her boy's weddings could be closer to home so he wouldn't have to drive so far. (He's oldish.) When I heard that I wanted to go and reassure him that there wouldn't be another one, so he didn't have to worry. I didn't, though, I'm tired of explaining things like that to people who know me.
I keep getting it from this one woman at work. She said that she can't believe that I'm not taken. I asked why it's a surprise. She said that I'm so nice, some nice girl should have snagged me by now. I said that I've never really looked for anything like that. She suggested that she has some women I could meet, like her niece or cousin or something. Inside I was horrified because, as a one who judges others and expects to be judged in return, she a bit too much crazy Christan and too white trashy and this women she thinks would be good for me lives with her. Thanks, no. She asked me why not and I told that that even though I'm not the kind of person who plays around, I like just being with myself I don't need or want someone else to think about and worry about. Although that was only part of the answer, she seemed satisfied with it, but she still thinks that someone should snag me soon. With I sigh I was happy to leave that conversation.
I write all of that to tell this:
The brother who got married almost two years ago and his wife came down from Oregon and, of course, my niece was with them. She's just about eight months old and the brother and Sister in Law are really good about sharing her and she likes to be held. Now, I'm not the sort of person who asks to hold a baby. I do enjoy holding them, but I'm never going to ask. I will offer to hold the child if the parent seems to need a hand and I will gladly accept the child if offered, but I will not directly ask to hold it and I will never, ever, just snag it from someone's arms. I think out of everyone at the house for the week and a half I held the baby the least because of the way I am.
Part of it, I think is because I haven't really imagined myself ever as a father since early in high school. (Huh, that's half my life ago.) I am not a childfree person. I just don't expect to have kids. I have issues and I know I have issues and at this moment, and for half my life, I haven't wanted my problems to hurt a kid in any way.
There was a moment during the vacation, though...
The niece was handed off to me. She didn't squirm. She just rolled over into my shoulder, put one arm around my neck, and snuggled in. Everything in me seemed to stop working. If I had a heart it would have melted. And for those few seconds she snuggled, I thought that maybe having a kid wouldn't be such a bad thing.
The thought didn't last though, but it's a nice memory
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Have you heard the good news?
My cousin graduated from high school on the 2nd of June. I was the only one in my immediate family to go and sit and be bored and congratulate the kid and his parents and blah, blah, blah.
After the ceremony, I went to the house of my uncle and aunt for cake and chips and conversation and such. Eventually the subject of my youngest brother's wedding came up (it was last Saturday, for those with a score card) which the mutated into my uncle asking me about the program my brother is in.
Since I don't think I've written it down here before: my brother just completed his first year of medical school. Two or so years ago he earned his Master's degree in public health, which allowed him to travel to a few places in the world and see how crappy things are in other places. And although he wouldn't phrase it this way, he decided to become part of the solution. Hence, med school leading to tens of thousand in debt and a way for him to help educate people and solve some basic problems that too much of the world suffers from and too many people die from, like diarrhea.
So, my uncle and I talk about this for a bit and he asks me if I've ever considered doing something like what my brother is doing. I admit that yes, I've thought about it. He asks why I don't go in that direction. He says he knows I'm smart enough to do it if I want to and he thinks it'd be a good job. I agree with him that I could probably do it, but I won't. He asks why. I tell him that, in large part, it's because I'd have to deal with people around my space or in my face all day long and I don't really care for people. He looks around at the gathering thing and asks what I think this is. This, he says, has people. I give him a lopsided grin thing and nod, hoping that it show that I am uncomfortable being there. That I'm not there for my, but more for them. I think he gets it because he switches gears and asks me about writing. He says that he remembers me doing a thing with a blog and asks why I don't do writing. That's something I can do and don't have to deal with people, he says. I agree with him, but... He cuts me off with a but what. Just do it, he says. And I try to go into my explanation about how work leaves me mentally and emotionally exhausted so that when I'm done with the work day all my brain is good for is nothing he doesn't listen. He thinks I'm making excuses. Maybe I am. I've just been so worn out from work that I don't know anymore if it's actually work or if it's just me finding ways to be stuck. I don't admit it to him, though, because soon his wife jumps in about how it's important to have hobbies and I let the subject get changed. Of course that conversation has been with me for almost three weeks now.
Yesterday, there was news from work. Apparently my asshole boss has been let go. If I believed in a lord, I'd probably be thanking that being. My hope is that the person who is temporarily taking the asshole's place does not micromanage like he did. I hope she takes the time to listen and think before making a judgement. I hope she stands up for the nurses. I hope she does a good job and whoever they end up replacing the asshole with full time does a good job, too.
There is a problem with this, for me though, and it has to do with all the family around here who only hear my complaints about the man and not the actual work that I do. When my parents told me the news, they expected me to be ecstatic. They thought I'd be jumping around and suddenly be looking forward to going to work on Monday. What they failed to think about was the he only made an already wearying/worrying and hard job worse, the job is still going to be wearying and worrying and hard. I hopefully won't have someone peering over my shoulder making the job harder, but it's not going to get better, for me. If I was the kind of person who could just leave all the work bullshit at work, I would be fine, but I'm not. I've been gone from work for a week and a half and have had work related dreams almost every night. Why? Because my job is never done. No part of my job is actually complete until the shift has started then I can't worry about the current shift, but I still have to worry about the next shift and the next day and the next week and the next month. I see holes in the schedule that extend for weeks and months and I'm not allowed to do anything about them because of the limited number of people or the fucking contract or the possibility of someone being removed for training or so many hundreds of other variables. Oh, and now we're coming up on fire season and our prison trains crews to go out and help fight the fires and with them goes nurses which cuts into my fucking schedule and eliminates a body. Of course we don't hire seasonal employees to help if there are fires because, you know, that costs extra money even though it would fucking make sense and ensure that the quality of care at the actual facility stayed high. This prison is not near large cities. I doesn't have a large pool of registry nurses to pull from when we're short. Almost all of them have to drive in from more than an hour away when they do come in...
See, this is why I have the dreams. I should be able to get the hell over the damned place and not fucking worry, but I do. And I try to figure out how to make the shitty situation look a little better with some polish, but polished shit is still fucking shit.
Okay, I'm working myself up. I'm going to stop. I'm going to head upstairs and have some food. I'm going to go and watch Super 8 this afternoon and enjoy myself. I'm going to finish re-reading The Phantom Tollbooth and marvel at its brilliance.
I'll probably return tomorrow.
Be well.
After the ceremony, I went to the house of my uncle and aunt for cake and chips and conversation and such. Eventually the subject of my youngest brother's wedding came up (it was last Saturday, for those with a score card) which the mutated into my uncle asking me about the program my brother is in.
Since I don't think I've written it down here before: my brother just completed his first year of medical school. Two or so years ago he earned his Master's degree in public health, which allowed him to travel to a few places in the world and see how crappy things are in other places. And although he wouldn't phrase it this way, he decided to become part of the solution. Hence, med school leading to tens of thousand in debt and a way for him to help educate people and solve some basic problems that too much of the world suffers from and too many people die from, like diarrhea.
So, my uncle and I talk about this for a bit and he asks me if I've ever considered doing something like what my brother is doing. I admit that yes, I've thought about it. He asks why I don't go in that direction. He says he knows I'm smart enough to do it if I want to and he thinks it'd be a good job. I agree with him that I could probably do it, but I won't. He asks why. I tell him that, in large part, it's because I'd have to deal with people around my space or in my face all day long and I don't really care for people. He looks around at the gathering thing and asks what I think this is. This, he says, has people. I give him a lopsided grin thing and nod, hoping that it show that I am uncomfortable being there. That I'm not there for my, but more for them. I think he gets it because he switches gears and asks me about writing. He says that he remembers me doing a thing with a blog and asks why I don't do writing. That's something I can do and don't have to deal with people, he says. I agree with him, but... He cuts me off with a but what. Just do it, he says. And I try to go into my explanation about how work leaves me mentally and emotionally exhausted so that when I'm done with the work day all my brain is good for is nothing he doesn't listen. He thinks I'm making excuses. Maybe I am. I've just been so worn out from work that I don't know anymore if it's actually work or if it's just me finding ways to be stuck. I don't admit it to him, though, because soon his wife jumps in about how it's important to have hobbies and I let the subject get changed. Of course that conversation has been with me for almost three weeks now.
Yesterday, there was news from work. Apparently my asshole boss has been let go. If I believed in a lord, I'd probably be thanking that being. My hope is that the person who is temporarily taking the asshole's place does not micromanage like he did. I hope she takes the time to listen and think before making a judgement. I hope she stands up for the nurses. I hope she does a good job and whoever they end up replacing the asshole with full time does a good job, too.
There is a problem with this, for me though, and it has to do with all the family around here who only hear my complaints about the man and not the actual work that I do. When my parents told me the news, they expected me to be ecstatic. They thought I'd be jumping around and suddenly be looking forward to going to work on Monday. What they failed to think about was the he only made an already wearying/worrying and hard job worse, the job is still going to be wearying and worrying and hard. I hopefully won't have someone peering over my shoulder making the job harder, but it's not going to get better, for me. If I was the kind of person who could just leave all the work bullshit at work, I would be fine, but I'm not. I've been gone from work for a week and a half and have had work related dreams almost every night. Why? Because my job is never done. No part of my job is actually complete until the shift has started then I can't worry about the current shift, but I still have to worry about the next shift and the next day and the next week and the next month. I see holes in the schedule that extend for weeks and months and I'm not allowed to do anything about them because of the limited number of people or the fucking contract or the possibility of someone being removed for training or so many hundreds of other variables. Oh, and now we're coming up on fire season and our prison trains crews to go out and help fight the fires and with them goes nurses which cuts into my fucking schedule and eliminates a body. Of course we don't hire seasonal employees to help if there are fires because, you know, that costs extra money even though it would fucking make sense and ensure that the quality of care at the actual facility stayed high. This prison is not near large cities. I doesn't have a large pool of registry nurses to pull from when we're short. Almost all of them have to drive in from more than an hour away when they do come in...
See, this is why I have the dreams. I should be able to get the hell over the damned place and not fucking worry, but I do. And I try to figure out how to make the shitty situation look a little better with some polish, but polished shit is still fucking shit.
Okay, I'm working myself up. I'm going to stop. I'm going to head upstairs and have some food. I'm going to go and watch Super 8 this afternoon and enjoy myself. I'm going to finish re-reading The Phantom Tollbooth and marvel at its brilliance.
I'll probably return tomorrow.
Be well.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Monday, May 16, 2011
"Did you know the clitoris is a holy sacred thing?"
NPR has posted the cast recording to The Book of Mormon, the Musical.
While I recommend you listen to the whole thing, if you won't here's where the individual songs are found. To get the best gist of the play, listen to "Hello!" then "All-American Prophet" followed by "Making Things Up Again" next "Joseph Smith American Moses" and finally move to 3:16 of "Tomorrow is a Latter Day" to finish the story.
"Hasa Diga Eebowai," "Spooky Mormon Hell Dream," and "I Believe" are pretty spectacular, too, but the first is purely funny and the other two are about a character rather than the mission he's on.
I really don't want to travel to New York, but I'd really like to watch this play.
While I recommend you listen to the whole thing, if you won't here's where the individual songs are found. To get the best gist of the play, listen to "Hello!" then "All-American Prophet" followed by "Making Things Up Again" next "Joseph Smith American Moses" and finally move to 3:16 of "Tomorrow is a Latter Day" to finish the story.
"Hasa Diga Eebowai," "Spooky Mormon Hell Dream," and "I Believe" are pretty spectacular, too, but the first is purely funny and the other two are about a character rather than the mission he's on.
I really don't want to travel to New York, but I'd really like to watch this play.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Ka-BOOM!
A few years ago, I was taking medication for depression. I was on it for about six months. Then I quit. The explanation I gave was only part of the reason and since I can't sleep, due to thinking about it, I figured that two years off the meds was enough time to really be honest about it.
I've describes myself as fluctuating between a 2 and 6 on the "how you feelin'" scale. I figure I should better describe that scale:
1 -- Your brain is in total shut down. It's trapped in this dark loop that's no thoughts, just horrible, horrible feelings. You can't do anything that requires a little thought. You don't walk. You don't eat. You can't sleep. And you don't care if you piss yourself.
2 -- Your brain is trapped in a loop of darkness, but there's enough extra there so you can function on autopilot. You can use the toilet. You can eat. You can do your mindless bits at work. Hell, you can even drive. You can't, however, do anything that requires even a little critical thinking. Even something relatively simple, but that you don't do all the time, is impossible. Speaking with people is also very hard to do.
3 -- Now there's room in your brain for thinking along with all the darkness. You can pass yourself off as being in just a "bad mood," so people don't worry about you. You can lie to others, but not to yourself about what's going on in your head. The horrible things in your head seem possible to do.
4 -- A lot like 3, but you can see the stupidity in some of the things you thought about/are thinking about.
5 -- You don't give a shit either way, but there's still a weight on you shoulders or chest pushing you down.
6 -- The weight is gone, but you don't feel light. You have trouble empathizing with those who feel good, but it's easy to fall in with those who aren't.
7 -- You start to feel light. You feel the emotions of others and you start to want to share the way you feel with the world.
8 -- The world is rosy. Sure, you might see some problems and you can empathize with the guy whose dad just died, but it's not going to ruin your mood.
9 -- You feel pretty great and you can think critically about everything around you. You can learn. You can talk. You are probably the best version of you that you can be.
10 -- You feel really damn good. You function mostly on autopilot going around doing the things you normally do and knowing everything is right.
(I'm pretty sure there's a stage where you're so blissed out that you can't even function, but I doubt people can reach it without the help of some pretty heavy drugs.)
(Also, I realize that this system isn't the same for everyone. These are my numbers. I'm sorry about how short the higher numbers are, but it's been a long time since I've soared to any of those heights.)
When I was on my medication and it started to even me out, I stayed near a three or four. Those are the most dangerous numbers because you feel bad, but you can think and, during that time, you think you're thinking clearly about things.
To be more specific (and yet vague): The day I decided I had to get off that medication was the day I was going to buy a garden hose. I had it my arms and was carrying it to the cashier when I stopped and realized that maybe going for a drive out into the woods where it would be just me, my car, a full-ish tank of gas, and a garden hose wasn't such a smart idea for my family and friends.
When you are at a 2 for short or long periods of time, you think about garden hoses, among other things, but it's beyond your capacity to do anything about it. Garden hoses aren't something that you've used everyday, or even once a week, for years and years so while the thought might be there, you don't have the ability to use a garden hose, assuming that you have one.
Short forays into 3 and 4 also lead to thoughts about garden hoses, but you're not in that state of mind long enough to do anything with a garden hose. When you're evened out and spend ten, fifteen, thirty days at that level, garden hoses are all you think about and it seems like a good idea to buy one. Garden hoses seem like the best idea not just for you, but for everyone. And you convince yourself that everyone'll understand because you've been trapped in a dark place for a very long time. If they end up having a problem with it... well, fuck 'em.
And as tired as I was, "fuck 'em" just didn't seem like the correct answer.
So, I talked to my GP and the psychiatrist, at the time, and they bounced me back and forth for a couple of weeks, neither one wanting to put me on something different. I got tired of being what that med made me and convinced my GP to ween me off of it. I went back to being what I am without it and I started getting days back where the weight was lighter and my mind was more grayish than black.
I've describes myself as fluctuating between a 2 and 6 on the "how you feelin'" scale. I figure I should better describe that scale:
1 -- Your brain is in total shut down. It's trapped in this dark loop that's no thoughts, just horrible, horrible feelings. You can't do anything that requires a little thought. You don't walk. You don't eat. You can't sleep. And you don't care if you piss yourself.
2 -- Your brain is trapped in a loop of darkness, but there's enough extra there so you can function on autopilot. You can use the toilet. You can eat. You can do your mindless bits at work. Hell, you can even drive. You can't, however, do anything that requires even a little critical thinking. Even something relatively simple, but that you don't do all the time, is impossible. Speaking with people is also very hard to do.
3 -- Now there's room in your brain for thinking along with all the darkness. You can pass yourself off as being in just a "bad mood," so people don't worry about you. You can lie to others, but not to yourself about what's going on in your head. The horrible things in your head seem possible to do.
4 -- A lot like 3, but you can see the stupidity in some of the things you thought about/are thinking about.
5 -- You don't give a shit either way, but there's still a weight on you shoulders or chest pushing you down.
6 -- The weight is gone, but you don't feel light. You have trouble empathizing with those who feel good, but it's easy to fall in with those who aren't.
7 -- You start to feel light. You feel the emotions of others and you start to want to share the way you feel with the world.
8 -- The world is rosy. Sure, you might see some problems and you can empathize with the guy whose dad just died, but it's not going to ruin your mood.
9 -- You feel pretty great and you can think critically about everything around you. You can learn. You can talk. You are probably the best version of you that you can be.
10 -- You feel really damn good. You function mostly on autopilot going around doing the things you normally do and knowing everything is right.
(I'm pretty sure there's a stage where you're so blissed out that you can't even function, but I doubt people can reach it without the help of some pretty heavy drugs.)
(Also, I realize that this system isn't the same for everyone. These are my numbers. I'm sorry about how short the higher numbers are, but it's been a long time since I've soared to any of those heights.)
When I was on my medication and it started to even me out, I stayed near a three or four. Those are the most dangerous numbers because you feel bad, but you can think and, during that time, you think you're thinking clearly about things.
To be more specific (and yet vague): The day I decided I had to get off that medication was the day I was going to buy a garden hose. I had it my arms and was carrying it to the cashier when I stopped and realized that maybe going for a drive out into the woods where it would be just me, my car, a full-ish tank of gas, and a garden hose wasn't such a smart idea for my family and friends.
When you are at a 2 for short or long periods of time, you think about garden hoses, among other things, but it's beyond your capacity to do anything about it. Garden hoses aren't something that you've used everyday, or even once a week, for years and years so while the thought might be there, you don't have the ability to use a garden hose, assuming that you have one.
Short forays into 3 and 4 also lead to thoughts about garden hoses, but you're not in that state of mind long enough to do anything with a garden hose. When you're evened out and spend ten, fifteen, thirty days at that level, garden hoses are all you think about and it seems like a good idea to buy one. Garden hoses seem like the best idea not just for you, but for everyone. And you convince yourself that everyone'll understand because you've been trapped in a dark place for a very long time. If they end up having a problem with it... well, fuck 'em.
And as tired as I was, "fuck 'em" just didn't seem like the correct answer.
So, I talked to my GP and the psychiatrist, at the time, and they bounced me back and forth for a couple of weeks, neither one wanting to put me on something different. I got tired of being what that med made me and convinced my GP to ween me off of it. I went back to being what I am without it and I started getting days back where the weight was lighter and my mind was more grayish than black.
la laa laaa
I am still around.
This morning there was
snow upon the ground.
Last week I saw Thor.
It was a bit of
fun, but not much more.
Just to have a look
I re-failed at life
and rejoined Facebook.
My five "friends" are
family, and for now
that's where I set the bar.
This morning there was
snow upon the ground.
Last week I saw Thor.
It was a bit of
fun, but not much more.
Just to have a look
I re-failed at life
and rejoined Facebook.
My five "friends" are
family, and for now
that's where I set the bar.
Saturday, May 07, 2011
A Bit More About Glee
There's one more thing I wanted to mention about Glee that I forgot, and that's the role of music on the show.
One of the earliest complaints I remember reading about the music is that they didn't use original songs. DUH! Show choirs and glee clubs rarely, if ever, do original music. They take existing music and spin it into their own bit of incredible (or mediocrity). And now that Glee has done original songs I need to know how much people enjoyed them? Personally, with the exception of "Trouty Mouth," which was hilarious, and "My Headband," which was also just a joke, the songs didn't impress me.
The show tends to stick to arrangements of songs we've already heard. Sometimes that's disappointing, the Rocky Horror episode sticks out in my mind, but sometimes it's amazing, like when they did "She's Not There." And, of course, a lot of the mash-ups are great, I posted a link to my favorite, so far, in that other post which is the mash-up of "Don't Stand So Close to Me" and "Young Girl."
Now if Glee were really about a glee club training for shows, we would probably only hear a couple dozen songs rehearsed to death. Fortunately, this is TV and the songs are there to represent how music can underscore our emotions. It's probably safe to assume that nearly everyone has heard a song at just the right time that it seemed to be written about them. Here's a post with several songs that hit me that way and I know I've written about more songs, just don't want to look them up. They're the songs that you used to rewind on the cassette or lifting the arm of the record player for. Today we can just press the reverse button and listen over and over.
My favorite example of using a song to reflect the emotions of a character is "Landslide" from a few episodes ago. Watch Santana's face as she sings all the hurt and confusion and love and a little bit of anger. These are the moments that really make Glee worth watching and this is exactly how music should be used in a show about singing high school students.
One of the earliest complaints I remember reading about the music is that they didn't use original songs. DUH! Show choirs and glee clubs rarely, if ever, do original music. They take existing music and spin it into their own bit of incredible (or mediocrity). And now that Glee has done original songs I need to know how much people enjoyed them? Personally, with the exception of "Trouty Mouth," which was hilarious, and "My Headband," which was also just a joke, the songs didn't impress me.
The show tends to stick to arrangements of songs we've already heard. Sometimes that's disappointing, the Rocky Horror episode sticks out in my mind, but sometimes it's amazing, like when they did "She's Not There." And, of course, a lot of the mash-ups are great, I posted a link to my favorite, so far, in that other post which is the mash-up of "Don't Stand So Close to Me" and "Young Girl."
Now if Glee were really about a glee club training for shows, we would probably only hear a couple dozen songs rehearsed to death. Fortunately, this is TV and the songs are there to represent how music can underscore our emotions. It's probably safe to assume that nearly everyone has heard a song at just the right time that it seemed to be written about them. Here's a post with several songs that hit me that way and I know I've written about more songs, just don't want to look them up. They're the songs that you used to rewind on the cassette or lifting the arm of the record player for. Today we can just press the reverse button and listen over and over.
My favorite example of using a song to reflect the emotions of a character is "Landslide" from a few episodes ago. Watch Santana's face as she sings all the hurt and confusion and love and a little bit of anger. These are the moments that really make Glee worth watching and this is exactly how music should be used in a show about singing high school students.
Two Down
Watched Scream 4 a couple of weeks ago.
And it was so much fun to watch.
The third movie left a bad taste in my mouth. It was like ending the original cast movies with Star Trek V: The Final Frontier, just a mediocre movie. The fourth is much better ending.
Although, I'm sure if there's a fifth I'll be in the theater. I'm a sucker.
And it was so much fun to watch.
The third movie left a bad taste in my mouth. It was like ending the original cast movies with Star Trek V: The Final Frontier, just a mediocre movie. The fourth is much better ending.
Although, I'm sure if there's a fifth I'll be in the theater. I'm a sucker.
Thursday, May 05, 2011
A Bit About Glee
I don't really like the show Glee, but I watch it.
During the first half of the first season, I was a champion of the show. (Not of the blog, so much, but when asked about it in real life. For a while it was my favorite show on TV.) It was about this group of kids trying to find a place to fit and even the place where they best fit wasn't comfortable for them. It was about the formation of a team coming together to work toward a difficult goal. And surrounding this theme were interesting characters, backstabbing, a cute and earnest OCD teacher, a psycho with a fake pregnancy, The Pink Dagger, and the always utterly fantastic Jane Lynch. Oh and lots of great songs. (These span the whole of the first season. Dammit.)
When the second half of the first season came around, something seemed to change. The music was still great, but the characters weren't right. They all seemed so much more over the top. And while that worked for Sue Sylvester, it didn't work so when for Artie or Tina or Brittany or Will. Stories also became about the topic of the week, not the characters. I kept watching, though, because of the songs. It's like horrible train wreck, death and destruction, gorgeous sunset, train wreck, death, amazing painting, train wreck.
After moving, I didn't watch much TV until my brother pointed me to the D&D episode of Community. That's when I went back to my unhealthy hate/love relationship with Glee. It still has all the same problems (although I've been pretty impressed with the Santana arc in the past few episodes), but I can ignore them more. Now I just watch it episode to episode and don't expect anything to really carry over from one episode to the next. I just enjoy what's there. It's become a lot easier to watch.
And that's why I keep watching, even though I'm pretty sure I hate most of the show.
During the first half of the first season, I was a champion of the show. (Not of the blog, so much, but when asked about it in real life. For a while it was my favorite show on TV.) It was about this group of kids trying to find a place to fit and even the place where they best fit wasn't comfortable for them. It was about the formation of a team coming together to work toward a difficult goal. And surrounding this theme were interesting characters, backstabbing, a cute and earnest OCD teacher, a psycho with a fake pregnancy, The Pink Dagger, and the always utterly fantastic Jane Lynch. Oh and lots of great songs. (These span the whole of the first season. Dammit.)
When the second half of the first season came around, something seemed to change. The music was still great, but the characters weren't right. They all seemed so much more over the top. And while that worked for Sue Sylvester, it didn't work so when for Artie or Tina or Brittany or Will. Stories also became about the topic of the week, not the characters. I kept watching, though, because of the songs. It's like horrible train wreck, death and destruction, gorgeous sunset, train wreck, death, amazing painting, train wreck.
After moving, I didn't watch much TV until my brother pointed me to the D&D episode of Community. That's when I went back to my unhealthy hate/love relationship with Glee. It still has all the same problems (although I've been pretty impressed with the Santana arc in the past few episodes), but I can ignore them more. Now I just watch it episode to episode and don't expect anything to really carry over from one episode to the next. I just enjoy what's there. It's become a lot easier to watch.
And that's why I keep watching, even though I'm pretty sure I hate most of the show.
Tuesday, May 03, 2011
It's Not Doing What You Love...
I dreamed again of a baby. This one involved me and it in a car, an old sedan I think, where the drive had jumped out shortly before I started dreaming. The baby never cried, they never do, but its breathing got deep and it made worry noises. (I don't know how I knew it, but it's my dream and I knew.) The car was going down a steep, curvy road. For a long time, I didn't move. Not because I was scared but because I knew that if I hopped into the driver's seat and took control then I'd be stuck. At first we were going slow enough and the road was banked well enough that the car stayed on the road. After several curves I grabbed onto the steering wheel. The car kept going faster though. I screamed at the road, "No, goddammit! I won't fucking drive!" After a very steep corner, I moved over, but I straddled the two seats. I was just far enough over to reach the break pedal. (Never noticed a parking break.) The whole time I was breaking and steer I yelled at the world, "Fuck you, you rock fucking whore! This isn't my fucking car!" I only slowed the car enough to make it around the turns, but some were close calls because at least one tire wasn't touching the ground a couple of times. When I finally woke, we were still barreling down the endless road swing from right to left to right trying not to go over the edge on one side or into the hill on the other, but there was no fucking way I was going to stop the car.
On a possibly related note, I've been reading everyone's blogs, but I haven't felt up to commenting. Haven't felt like commenting on comments either. (Hi there y'all!) At least I've been reading them. Except for yesterday, to remind myself that sometimes I write good (hur hur), I haven't visited that forum I've been known to frequent. When I did check it out yesterday I didn't read anything except for stuff to try to make myself feel better about myself. Not sure if it worked, but I don't want to get involved at the moment. 'Course that sets me behind and in a position where I have to catch up.
I've been contemplating joining Facebook. It sickens me to even think about it. Still, at least I could pretend that I'm part of the lives of people.
And now it's time for me to turn off the light, huddle under the covers, and hope that there are no more babies in my dreams.
'Night.
On a possibly related note, I've been reading everyone's blogs, but I haven't felt up to commenting. Haven't felt like commenting on comments either. (Hi there y'all!) At least I've been reading them. Except for yesterday, to remind myself that sometimes I write good (hur hur), I haven't visited that forum I've been known to frequent. When I did check it out yesterday I didn't read anything except for stuff to try to make myself feel better about myself. Not sure if it worked, but I don't want to get involved at the moment. 'Course that sets me behind and in a position where I have to catch up.
I've been contemplating joining Facebook. It sickens me to even think about it. Still, at least I could pretend that I'm part of the lives of people.
And now it's time for me to turn off the light, huddle under the covers, and hope that there are no more babies in my dreams.
'Night.
Friday, April 29, 2011
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Dreaming Little Dreams
In the last week, I have dreamed that I have dreamed of having a baby four times. None of them are my baby, and I'm not giving birth.
In three of the dreams, I have a baby with me. I know it's not mine. I think one of these babies may have been from a cousin. All of them had a huge scar, one on a leg, one an arm, and the third on its back. In all of these dreams, I already had the baby. I fed and bathed and changed them.
The dream I had last night was different. See, I was helping some friends with packing. When I went back the next day and all that was left was a baby in a car seat. When I tried to call my friends all I got was voice mail that said the kid was mine.
So, what does having a baby force on me mean?
Maybe it's better not to think about it.
In three of the dreams, I have a baby with me. I know it's not mine. I think one of these babies may have been from a cousin. All of them had a huge scar, one on a leg, one an arm, and the third on its back. In all of these dreams, I already had the baby. I fed and bathed and changed them.
The dream I had last night was different. See, I was helping some friends with packing. When I went back the next day and all that was left was a baby in a car seat. When I tried to call my friends all I got was voice mail that said the kid was mine.
So, what does having a baby force on me mean?
Maybe it's better not to think about it.
Friday, April 22, 2011
During The Commercials
I am writing a blog post during the commercials of shows I am watching on Hulu. This isn't the first commercial, though. During the first commercials I just dicked around
That commercial break ended. Thirty seconds isn't much time to really write in. Hey! Maybe I should join Twitter! I'll twat during the commercials of Couger Town. (Yeah, that's what I was watching. It's
We are now onto Modern Family. Don't know how many show's I get in before I get too hungry. Maybe one more. Maybe, but there's no way to know. Hey, this commercial break is a minute! Wow! This would never make it as a twat. Maybe I shoul
Hulu is my brother's fault. He sent me a link to an episode of Community where they play Dungeons and Dragons. I already loved Community and then they played that game. Yeah, searches s
Okay, so this not letting myself complete thoughts when the show comes back on is annoying. I try to
The funny thing about the ABC shows, I think they're from the Sacramento station. There's the "News 10" logo in the lower left
Oh, Community why is your insanity so delightful. When did I know you were one of my favorite sit-coms on TV? Was it "Troy and Abed in the Morning"? Or Señor Chang the frog? Maybe it was "Heeeeere's brownies!" No it's "He was hor
I've been reading about introversion recently. It makes me wonder about my reactions to social situatio
This is the last commercial break before the end of the show. Then I will go and eat. This one is now hungry. 'Night.
That commercial break ended. Thirty seconds isn't much time to really write in. Hey! Maybe I should join Twitter! I'll twat during the commercials of Couger Town. (Yeah, that's what I was watching. It's
We are now onto Modern Family. Don't know how many show's I get in before I get too hungry. Maybe one more. Maybe, but there's no way to know. Hey, this commercial break is a minute! Wow! This would never make it as a twat. Maybe I shoul
Hulu is my brother's fault. He sent me a link to an episode of Community where they play Dungeons and Dragons. I already loved Community and then they played that game. Yeah, searches s
Okay, so this not letting myself complete thoughts when the show comes back on is annoying. I try to
The funny thing about the ABC shows, I think they're from the Sacramento station. There's the "News 10" logo in the lower left
Oh, Community why is your insanity so delightful. When did I know you were one of my favorite sit-coms on TV? Was it "Troy and Abed in the Morning"? Or Señor Chang the frog? Maybe it was "Heeeeere's brownies!" No it's "He was hor
I've been reading about introversion recently. It makes me wonder about my reactions to social situatio
This is the last commercial break before the end of the show. Then I will go and eat. This one is now hungry. 'Night.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Goodbye, Sarah Jane Smith
From DorkTower
I posted this over on What's Distracting Us? yesterday. Then went to watch the last disc of The Sarah Jane Adventures Series 2. The first story on that disc is "The Temptation of Sarah Jane Smith." I don't want give much away, but it ends with a people choosing to sacrifice themselves to save the world. I'm a sucker for those moments, especially when the characters actually die. My eyes got misty and my throat got lumpy.
I'm really glad that there's 3 stories for the fifth series. It's too bad there won't be more.
I think I'll put off watching Series 3 for a week or so.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
The Book of Mormon, the Musical
First, I'm going to scream my head off, again, because I don't live in, or near, New York.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!
Okay, now that that's out of my system there's an interview with Parker and Stone done by John Stewart on the front page of The Book of Mormon website.
Once again, I must curse the world and how far it put New York City away from California. Son of a bitch.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
More Adventures in My Boss is an Asshole
Let’s start from where we left off, shall we?
To remind you, on Thursday I had e-mailed my boss to let him know that a change he made in the schedule would create a permanent hole on Saturday mornings and we’d probably have to use involuntary overtime to fill the hole nearly every week. I tried to be forceful, but with tact.
Friday morning I get to work and find this in my in-box: “I am very aware of this. This would last for three weeks.”
So, he actively knew he was fucking up the Saturday schedule. He knew. And he it didn’t bother him.
After reading his e-mail, I let out a serious string of fucking expletives, but moved on. We were doing some testing which required me to be away from my desk, and from the asshole, for several hours. I put the shit behind me and moved on with my day. Saturday morning, however, I realized that he didn’t include the new supervisor who’s in charge of staffing in this decision. First thing I did Monday morning was forward his e-mails to her, making sure that she’ll be involved in decisions involving the staff from now on.
Shortly after I forwarded the e-mail, the asshole walked into my office and I brought up the change he made to the schedule the week before. “We’ll just change her RDOs,” he said. (RDO means “regular day off,” FYI.) “She’s being assigned a new post,” I said “I don’t have the authority to change post orders. Do you?” He frowned and rubbed his hand all over his face and through his hair and scrunched his eyes and then said, “Well, you know, that, well, ah, see we’d need to meet and confer with the union steward. And, well, uh, well it’s, we’ll just leave her days off and deal with Saturdays as it comes up.”
I knew that he’d give the wrong answer. The correct answer would have been that the nurse needed to stay in her current post due to institutional need. Of course he hates to acknowledge when he’s made mistakes, so I didn’t expect him to fix the error.
Next I immediately brought up a nurse who’s been out sick a lot recently. I expected this nurse back on Monday based on information the asshole had given me last week. The nurse wasn’t here, though. I asked my boss about it. He reminded me that the nurse’s RDOs are Tuesday and Wednesday. I reminded him that last week he told me the nurse would be back this week and the week starts on Monday. But his RDOs, the asshole told me. Monday, I told him. He then turned to the supervisors, who I share an office with, and their dagger-like glares. He backed out the door and half heartedly apologized to me for not giving me the full scoop. I should expect the missing nurse on Thursday, unless we hear differently.
It wasn’t even eight in the morning and I’d already ruined his day. [sarcasm]Yippee.[/sarcasm]
But did it end there? Of course not. After his little visit, I explained to the two supervisors what both conversations with him were about. They got a bit riled. After going out and finishing phase 2 of the testing, the asshole found me in my office again and one of the supervisors said, “I hear we’ve got this hole every Saturday now.” He tried to slide around and back pedal and seemed to want to blame someone, but couldn’t. That conversation ended with the supervisor saying, “So, we have a hole in the schedule every Saturday, then?” He left after that.
Through the rest of the day, I worked to rile up the other supervisors who don’t share my office by sharing the news about Saturdays. I’m conflicted because I really wish I didn’t feel so good about trying to destroy what little confidence the supervisors might have left in him.
Which brings us to this morning.
One of the supervisors wasn’t here like she should have been when I came in. I was told that she headed home because she couldn’t find her keys. Her only hope was that she left the on the kitchen counter.
The asshole galumphs into my office around 7:45 and asks me if the supervisor ran out of here this morning. I didn’t like the half grin on his face. I told him that she wasn’t here when I came in, that she ran home. He asked if she was looking for her keys. I said yup. “Get her on the phone,” he commanded. “I have her keys.” I called and told her that he was with me and that he said he had her keys. She wanted to speak with him. I handed over the phone and heard him say that her keys were found yesterday afternoon in the bathroom.
He hung up the phone then told me, “A nurse found her keys in the bathroom last night. I told [another supervisor] that if [missing key supervisor] called to let her know I had them. Did [missing key supervisor] call last night?” I wanted to say FUCK NO, but shook my head instead. He nodded then said, “I’m heading to [the other yard], have [missing key supervisor] sit in my office and wait when she gets here.” He strolled out with an asshole’s grin on his face.
Now, maybe it’s just me. Maybe it’s because I’ve been sharing an office with the supervisor for 4 months now. Maybe my glasses have suddenly developed a rosy hue. If I were in charge and of this particular woman, I would recognize how hard she works and how much she takes everything to heart. I’d think about how hard she’s probably been on herself since she discovered her keys were missing. I’d know that she’d be really nasty to herself on her hour and a half drive home to look for the keys and how much she’d beat herself up as she drove another 90 minutes back to work. I think about all this and when I saw her, I’d sit her down and tell her that she made a mistake and ask her not to make it again. And that would be the end of it. (Actually, I would have ended it yesterday by calling her on her cell phone and letting her know that I had her keys and she didn’t need to worry when she came in morning.)
Yes, that’s what I would do. Of course the shit fucker I have for a boss isn’t that kind of a person. He’s going to lay it on thick to a woman who’s here five days a week doing her best to keep things running smoothly for the institution and the nurses.
What do I know, though? It’s only 9:15 in the morning and she’s not back, yet. Christ, I hope she doesn’t quit over this.
THE AFTERMATH!
Well, it didn't happen at all like I feared. [Missing key supervisor] went directly to him and even though he tried to make her feel guilty and horrible, she wouldn't let him. She told him how rude and unprofessional it was that he didn't tell her right away that he had her keys. She told him that he needs to stop meddling in the supervisors' programs and always include them in any decision making. Essentially she called him a fuck-up in a whole lot more words.
As for my scheduling problem, well, the new supervisor in charge of the schedule had a talk with him today. She ended their conversation by telling him that he was wrong not including her in a meeting about changing the schedule. She told him that we can't change the schedule unless we go through the proper procedure. And she told him that if he knew he was going to create a hole in the schedule then he's more retarded that the most retarded retard in the retarded world. (She didn't use those words, of course. She'd never say "retarded." She may have thrown the f-bomb around though. She does that on occasion.)
I guess that means everything turned out well-ish today. Of course the fucktard asshole is there until 5 tonight. I'm sure he can fuck something up between now and then.
To remind you, on Thursday I had e-mailed my boss to let him know that a change he made in the schedule would create a permanent hole on Saturday mornings and we’d probably have to use involuntary overtime to fill the hole nearly every week. I tried to be forceful, but with tact.
Friday morning I get to work and find this in my in-box: “I am very aware of this. This would last for three weeks.”
So, he actively knew he was fucking up the Saturday schedule. He knew. And he it didn’t bother him.
After reading his e-mail, I let out a serious string of fucking expletives, but moved on. We were doing some testing which required me to be away from my desk, and from the asshole, for several hours. I put the shit behind me and moved on with my day. Saturday morning, however, I realized that he didn’t include the new supervisor who’s in charge of staffing in this decision. First thing I did Monday morning was forward his e-mails to her, making sure that she’ll be involved in decisions involving the staff from now on.
Shortly after I forwarded the e-mail, the asshole walked into my office and I brought up the change he made to the schedule the week before. “We’ll just change her RDOs,” he said. (RDO means “regular day off,” FYI.) “She’s being assigned a new post,” I said “I don’t have the authority to change post orders. Do you?” He frowned and rubbed his hand all over his face and through his hair and scrunched his eyes and then said, “Well, you know, that, well, ah, see we’d need to meet and confer with the union steward. And, well, uh, well it’s, we’ll just leave her days off and deal with Saturdays as it comes up.”
I knew that he’d give the wrong answer. The correct answer would have been that the nurse needed to stay in her current post due to institutional need. Of course he hates to acknowledge when he’s made mistakes, so I didn’t expect him to fix the error.
Next I immediately brought up a nurse who’s been out sick a lot recently. I expected this nurse back on Monday based on information the asshole had given me last week. The nurse wasn’t here, though. I asked my boss about it. He reminded me that the nurse’s RDOs are Tuesday and Wednesday. I reminded him that last week he told me the nurse would be back this week and the week starts on Monday. But his RDOs, the asshole told me. Monday, I told him. He then turned to the supervisors, who I share an office with, and their dagger-like glares. He backed out the door and half heartedly apologized to me for not giving me the full scoop. I should expect the missing nurse on Thursday, unless we hear differently.
It wasn’t even eight in the morning and I’d already ruined his day. [sarcasm]Yippee.[/sarcasm]
But did it end there? Of course not. After his little visit, I explained to the two supervisors what both conversations with him were about. They got a bit riled. After going out and finishing phase 2 of the testing, the asshole found me in my office again and one of the supervisors said, “I hear we’ve got this hole every Saturday now.” He tried to slide around and back pedal and seemed to want to blame someone, but couldn’t. That conversation ended with the supervisor saying, “So, we have a hole in the schedule every Saturday, then?” He left after that.
Through the rest of the day, I worked to rile up the other supervisors who don’t share my office by sharing the news about Saturdays. I’m conflicted because I really wish I didn’t feel so good about trying to destroy what little confidence the supervisors might have left in him.
Which brings us to this morning.
One of the supervisors wasn’t here like she should have been when I came in. I was told that she headed home because she couldn’t find her keys. Her only hope was that she left the on the kitchen counter.
The asshole galumphs into my office around 7:45 and asks me if the supervisor ran out of here this morning. I didn’t like the half grin on his face. I told him that she wasn’t here when I came in, that she ran home. He asked if she was looking for her keys. I said yup. “Get her on the phone,” he commanded. “I have her keys.” I called and told her that he was with me and that he said he had her keys. She wanted to speak with him. I handed over the phone and heard him say that her keys were found yesterday afternoon in the bathroom.
He hung up the phone then told me, “A nurse found her keys in the bathroom last night. I told [another supervisor] that if [missing key supervisor] called to let her know I had them. Did [missing key supervisor] call last night?” I wanted to say FUCK NO, but shook my head instead. He nodded then said, “I’m heading to [the other yard], have [missing key supervisor] sit in my office and wait when she gets here.” He strolled out with an asshole’s grin on his face.
Now, maybe it’s just me. Maybe it’s because I’ve been sharing an office with the supervisor for 4 months now. Maybe my glasses have suddenly developed a rosy hue. If I were in charge and of this particular woman, I would recognize how hard she works and how much she takes everything to heart. I’d think about how hard she’s probably been on herself since she discovered her keys were missing. I’d know that she’d be really nasty to herself on her hour and a half drive home to look for the keys and how much she’d beat herself up as she drove another 90 minutes back to work. I think about all this and when I saw her, I’d sit her down and tell her that she made a mistake and ask her not to make it again. And that would be the end of it. (Actually, I would have ended it yesterday by calling her on her cell phone and letting her know that I had her keys and she didn’t need to worry when she came in morning.)
Yes, that’s what I would do. Of course the shit fucker I have for a boss isn’t that kind of a person. He’s going to lay it on thick to a woman who’s here five days a week doing her best to keep things running smoothly for the institution and the nurses.
What do I know, though? It’s only 9:15 in the morning and she’s not back, yet. Christ, I hope she doesn’t quit over this.
THE AFTERMATH!
Well, it didn't happen at all like I feared. [Missing key supervisor] went directly to him and even though he tried to make her feel guilty and horrible, she wouldn't let him. She told him how rude and unprofessional it was that he didn't tell her right away that he had her keys. She told him that he needs to stop meddling in the supervisors' programs and always include them in any decision making. Essentially she called him a fuck-up in a whole lot more words.
As for my scheduling problem, well, the new supervisor in charge of the schedule had a talk with him today. She ended their conversation by telling him that he was wrong not including her in a meeting about changing the schedule. She told him that we can't change the schedule unless we go through the proper procedure. And she told him that if he knew he was going to create a hole in the schedule then he's more retarded that the most retarded retard in the retarded world. (She didn't use those words, of course. She'd never say "retarded." She may have thrown the f-bomb around though. She does that on occasion.)
I guess that means everything turned out well-ish today. Of course the fucktard asshole is there until 5 tonight. I'm sure he can fuck something up between now and then.
Monday, April 18, 2011
One down, several to go.
Went and saw Your Highness this weekend.
It was an awful movie, but it kept me laughing, which was the whole point.
Basically the movie was Pineapple Express or Knocked Up or I Love You Man set in a Dungeons and Dragons type fantasy world.
(In fact, you can sort of look at it as a D&D game. One of the characters is a guy who takes great joy in playing the game. One is there just to hang out and bullshit with his friends. One is a newbie with a crappy pre-gen character. And one is a munchkin. (For more information read this.)
All this is an interest way to look at the movie, but I'm not going to do it.)
The movie's full of juvenile humor, but I knew what I was going in for and it makes me laugh. Occasionally the movie veered into the homophobe zone, but that's a staple of this genre and still funny, to me.
The effect, for the most part, were great. The villain was creepy and fun. The girls were gorgeous. And it made me laugh. It meet ever expectation I had.
I look forward to watching it on basic cable in the future and seeing how TV will cut around a lot of the jokes.
It was an awful movie, but it kept me laughing, which was the whole point.
Basically the movie was Pineapple Express or Knocked Up or I Love You Man set in a Dungeons and Dragons type fantasy world.
(In fact, you can sort of look at it as a D&D game. One of the characters is a guy who takes great joy in playing the game. One is there just to hang out and bullshit with his friends. One is a newbie with a crappy pre-gen character. And one is a munchkin. (For more information read this.)
All this is an interest way to look at the movie, but I'm not going to do it.)
The movie's full of juvenile humor, but I knew what I was going in for and it makes me laugh. Occasionally the movie veered into the homophobe zone, but that's a staple of this genre and still funny, to me.
The effect, for the most part, were great. The villain was creepy and fun. The girls were gorgeous. And it made me laugh. It meet ever expectation I had.
I look forward to watching it on basic cable in the future and seeing how TV will cut around a lot of the jokes.
Friday, April 15, 2011
Movies I Must See This Year...
...even if they suck.
Anything that you must see or just want to see this year?
- Your Highness (Looks delightfully silly.)
- Scream 4 (I like 'em. Sue me.)
- Thor (The plastic-y costumes are disappointing, but Thor gets tasered!)
- Super 8 (I have faith in the non Star Trek power of JJ.)
- Green Lantern (Again, the costume sucks, but so much potential.)
- Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part II (Here's to hoping they leave off the bullshit epilogue from the book.)
- Captain America: The First Avenger (Crappy title. Why not just Captain America?)
- Rise of the Planet of the Apes (I'm a sucker. I know it.)
- Red State (Hey, I paid to see Jersey Girl in the theater. Judge away.)
- Puss in Boots (See, sucker.)
- The Muppets (Fuckin' NEW MUPPET MOVIE! HOORAY! (No trailer, yet. Still Sam singing a Guess Who song... wonderful! (Also Dracula!)))
- The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (David Fincher I place this in your hands and hope you succeed. (That the trailer for the great Swedish movie.))
- The Adventures of Tintin: The Secret of the Unicorn (Speilberg, don't fuck this up like you helped fucked up Transformers.)
Anything that you must see or just want to see this year?
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Another Post in the Ongoing Saga of My Boss is an Asshole
A few weeks ago, my boss decided to fuck with the schedule with out asking the person who looks at the schedule for nearly 40 hours a week what it would do. What it did was take away the wiggle room we had on 2nd watch on Sundays. Before, if someone called in sick we didn't necessarily have to bring someone else in. Now, we have to bring in another person or work short.
Today, without talking to the person who looks at the schedule for nearly 40 hours a week, my boss decided to move one of the nurses off her current shift (which is Tuesday through Saturday) and onto an open(ish) shift (which is Monday through Friday). Guess what this does... It leaves us one person short, every week, 2nd watch on Saturdays. This classification of nurses is not know for volunteering for overtime. We have no Permanent Intermittent Employees of this class. And the only registry nurse of this class we have isn't allowed to actually do the work of this class (because my boss is an asshole).
Odds are, we will be forcing overtime on one of two nurses ever week for at least a month. At least they'll be able to switch off weeks, right?
Today, without talking to the person who looks at the schedule for nearly 40 hours a week, my boss decided to move one of the nurses off her current shift (which is Tuesday through Saturday) and onto an open(ish) shift (which is Monday through Friday). Guess what this does... It leaves us one person short, every week, 2nd watch on Saturdays. This classification of nurses is not know for volunteering for overtime. We have no Permanent Intermittent Employees of this class. And the only registry nurse of this class we have isn't allowed to actually do the work of this class (because my boss is an asshole).
Odds are, we will be forcing overtime on one of two nurses ever week for at least a month. At least they'll be able to switch off weeks, right?
Saturday, April 09, 2011
A Modern Old Sit-Com
For her birthday, Thursday, my mother got the complete Dick Van Dyke Show. One of the the things included on the first disk is the original pilot, Head of the Family, which starred Carl Reiner as Rob Petrie (which was pronounced "pete-ry," like the dish). According to the book that came with the set people, producers I think, didn't like Reiner in the lead role. After watching it, I'm not so sure.
The whole episode had a more cynical tone than what the show changed into. Laura was more sarcastic (and if you've watched the show you know that makes her a lot more sarcastic). Buddy's really neurotic, although his coffee order is the same. Sally's more abrasive. Ritchie's a whiny little shit and hides in cupboards and closets. And Rob's more self-centered and needy. All of this adds up to a family comedy show that's darker than the other sit-coms of 1960. However, it sounded and looked very modern, except for the black-and-white. Like if they cut the laugh track and re-filmed it today it could sit along side 30 Rock.
Still, I'm really happy with Dick Van Dyke and Mary Tyler Moore. Who wouldn't be?
The whole episode had a more cynical tone than what the show changed into. Laura was more sarcastic (and if you've watched the show you know that makes her a lot more sarcastic). Buddy's really neurotic, although his coffee order is the same. Sally's more abrasive. Ritchie's a whiny little shit and hides in cupboards and closets. And Rob's more self-centered and needy. All of this adds up to a family comedy show that's darker than the other sit-coms of 1960. However, it sounded and looked very modern, except for the black-and-white. Like if they cut the laugh track and re-filmed it today it could sit along side 30 Rock.
Still, I'm really happy with Dick Van Dyke and Mary Tyler Moore. Who wouldn't be?
Thursday, April 07, 2011
It's Snowing
The snow isn't the normal Sierra cement, though. It's light and fluffy and drifts slowly down to the ground rather than falling like a rock. There's very thin layer on the porch and the snow creaked when I walked on it. This is the kind of snow I imagine they get back East: light and dry(ish).
Also, it keeps the pollen down nicely. No itchy eyes today.
Also, it keeps the pollen down nicely. No itchy eyes today.
Tuesday, April 05, 2011
Monday, April 04, 2011
In The End
There’s a big blue box. It’s bigger on the inside than the outside. It can go anywhere in space and time, sometimes where it is supposed to go. Something will go wrong, and there’s some bloke called The Doctor who’ll make it all right because he’s awesome. Now sit down, shut up, and watch "Blink."--Neil Gaiman
I got to WonderCon at 9:30AM yesterday. I wanted to make sure that I could get into the Dr. Who panel that started at 11:30. I thought two hours would be plenty of time. When I got there, there were at least 500 people already lined up. Let me tell you, there's not much out there like sitting in a room of 3500 people who really enjoy what they're seeing. Too bad there was only 45 minutes, I think the panel could have gone on for hours.
One thing that I got out of my time, this weekend, is how much I miss buying comics. I could order them online or have some shop mail comics to me, but I miss going into the shop. I miss picking up new books and flipping through the pages, admiring the art and skimming the story, to see if I want to buy it. The nearest shop is about an hour away and with gas prices what they are I'm not going there anytime soon. Still, I miss it.
Saturday, April 02, 2011
Adventures in Anxiety
--or--
Do I function in real life?
So, tomorrow is David Willis's birthday and he's at WonderCon. Since I've been enjoying his work for the past seven years and it's his first time at this convention and it's his birthday, I bought him a birthday card. (It's a Batman: The Brave and the Bold card that plays the theme song when you push the button in the corner. I almost got one that had pictures of hamsters because it looked like he could have drawn the card, but there was no way to turn off the annoying song when the card is opened, and like I said I like the guy's work.)
I get the card. I take the card with me to the con. I sign the card and shove a few bucks in it (one for each year I've been reading his online stuff). I panic and decide I not to give it to him. I wander up and down the aisles and there's his table.
Then I reach into my backpack and pull out the card. I stop and start my way to through the crowd. I stand in front of his table and take a deep breath. I stammer and stutter out something about enjoying his work (I hope that's what I said), hand him the card, and say happy birthday. He thanks me for the card and I say your welcome. He asks me if I want a sketch.
My brain screams, "YES! YES! YES! Amber and Arthur, from The Tick awkwardly posing for a photo!" My stomach screams, "I'm going to barf! GET OUT OF HERE!" My mouth stutters, "N-no, thanks, b-but I really appreciate it." And I hurried away.
Now, for my own sanity, I have to assume that he's met weird fans before. Probably mostly people (let's face it, guys) who just hang around the table and want to talk and talk and talk. Transformers, the Walkyverse, whatever, but they don't go away and think that he's their friend and must be their friend because they're read his online comics. So, I can't be the only weird fan who's ever visited him, right? But how many panic and run?
Days like this make me surprised that I can get out of the house and function in the world.
Do I function in real life?
So, tomorrow is David Willis's birthday and he's at WonderCon. Since I've been enjoying his work for the past seven years and it's his first time at this convention and it's his birthday, I bought him a birthday card. (It's a Batman: The Brave and the Bold card that plays the theme song when you push the button in the corner. I almost got one that had pictures of hamsters because it looked like he could have drawn the card, but there was no way to turn off the annoying song when the card is opened, and like I said I like the guy's work.)
I get the card. I take the card with me to the con. I sign the card and shove a few bucks in it (one for each year I've been reading his online stuff). I panic and decide I not to give it to him. I wander up and down the aisles and there's his table.
Then I reach into my backpack and pull out the card. I stop and start my way to through the crowd. I stand in front of his table and take a deep breath. I stammer and stutter out something about enjoying his work (I hope that's what I said), hand him the card, and say happy birthday. He thanks me for the card and I say your welcome. He asks me if I want a sketch.
My brain screams, "YES! YES! YES! Amber and Arthur, from The Tick awkwardly posing for a photo!" My stomach screams, "I'm going to barf! GET OUT OF HERE!" My mouth stutters, "N-no, thanks, b-but I really appreciate it." And I hurried away.
Now, for my own sanity, I have to assume that he's met weird fans before. Probably mostly people (let's face it, guys) who just hang around the table and want to talk and talk and talk. Transformers, the Walkyverse, whatever, but they don't go away and think that he's their friend and must be their friend because they're read his online comics. So, I can't be the only weird fan who's ever visited him, right? But how many panic and run?
Days like this make me surprised that I can get out of the house and function in the world.
Friday, April 01, 2011
Sitting in the Iron Throne
It wasn't as pokey as I thought it would be.
This was the first thing I did at WonderCon. I saw the booth and was drawn to it. They also had costumes from the show. Robert Baratheon's crown is shaped from antlers, which is spectacular because House Baratheon's sign is a crowned stag.
First thing I did, but second favorite part of WonderCon so far.
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