Useless Writing

A Mild Case of Turmoil

2012-01-27T22:05:00.000-08:00

Today some people in the department where I work were notified that they will be laid-off as of Wednesday.

I wasn't there when they were told, that would have been inappropriate, but I was told that some people were taken into the head supervisor's office and were in a closed door meeting. (There aren't many closed door meetings, so this was unusual.)

Then, on my way out, there were many tears and hugs and red eyes among the women.

I just walked through, signed out, and left for the day. It was awkward. At least for me, I really wasn't noticed during the eye wiping.

The thing I started wondering, as I drove away, was how am I supposed to feel about all of this? The losing co-workers, I mean. I've been with this group of people for three-and-a-half months now. Mostly I sit at my desk in the little office tucked behind the inmate bathroom (There's a vent, I hear the pissing, pooping, and singing. There's a surprising amount of singing in that bathroom.) with the two women who are the same classification as I am. I don't really deal with anyone else. And, being me, I don't go out of my way, ever, to try to get to know them. Yes, I brought corn biscuits (outstanding) and honey butter (too much vanilla) to the potluck, but I just slipped in for a plate then back to my desk. I barely know these people by name. (Although the cute one, who I thought was cute when I first saw her last year, I learned her name pretty quick.) I recognize all their faces now, and I smile and greet them in the mornings, but that's it.

So, how am I supposed to feel about the lay-offs?

Yes, I'm angry and sad that people are losing their jobs when The State has no fucking clue how this "re-alignment" is actually going to shake out. (I have predictions, but now's not the time.) But I'm not sad or angry about the individuals who are leaving. In fact, one of my first thoughts was maybe I can be moved to the desk in the clinic so I'm not trapped in the hole behind the toilet. Of course that mean's I'd be in the clinic and I'd actually have to deal with all these co-workers and a regular basis. That's a plus and a minus.

And then I thought that wasn't how I was supposed to react. Which led me to the question I keep asking.

How am I supposed to feel about the people who are losing their jobs?

Three Down... Seven To Go

2012-01-01T22:07:00.000-08:00

Two-ish weeks before Thanksgiving, my grandpa was sent to the hospital and had a toe amputated. It was massively infected. A few days later they decided that it was too infected and took another toe and some bone and splayed the foot open to hook it up to a wound vac. After picking up my brother, sister-in-law, and niece from the train station the Sunday before the holiday we stopped by and visited, that's the day they first hooked him up to the vac.

Eventually, the vac did it's job and cleaned the infection from his toe, but as it pumped, other stuff happened.

My grandma was left alone. She's starting to lose her marbles, to put it indelicately. She doesn't remember people. She doesn't remember much of anything. She doesn't feed herself because she doesn't. She may think she ate so she insists that she isn't hungry. So, people started having to stay with her. Mostly my asshole uncle who's been unemployed for the last fifteen years and fleecing his parents for rent money. (He was a contractor and said he couldn't find a job during the housing boom. He's a fucktard.) He manipulates people with half-truths and full lies. I've never trusted him my whole life. In the first two weeks he stayed with my grandma he conned her out of more that $4000.

My parents have been working to keep he from pulling his shit and keeping his lies away from my grandma. The problem is that they work while he doesn't. He's there and they're not. They can't be. When they get to him on the weekends she's more confused and angry than she should be. She's gotten better in the last two weeks because my parents have been out of school and been with her. They've spent most of the last week with her. They went down Tuesday and got back today only for my dad to go back down this evening.

The asshole's going to be with her tomorrow night through Wednesday. My mother has taken six or eight weeks off. Leave of absences. She'll be spending most of that with my grandmother.

Back to before Christmas:

While my grandpa was in a rehab place with his foot hooked up to a vacuum, my other grandma, not his wife, went in for hip surgery. It went great, but she was at the surgery center for three days, during which time her husband was having stomach aches so severe he wasn't eating food or drinking beer, and he's a guy who usually has four beers in a day. Oh, and he had blood in his stool. Oh, and he had chest pains. This all came out after my grandma got home, about a week after her surgery. My uncles basically abducted him and forced him to the VA in Palo Alto where the doctor found a blip, as my uncle called it, in his colon and the doctor diagnosed his pain, on a scale of 1 to 10, as a 7.5 to 8. They gave his some anti-acid meds to calm his tummy and he's eating again and apparently he's not bleeding when he craps anymore. He hasn't been back to the doctor to have a camera jammed down his throat to check for ulcers and he hasn't had a camera crammed up his ass to snip the polyp. Hopefully soon.

My other grandpa, meanwhile, had his foot cleaned of infection so to finally, after a month, seal his foot they had to take another toe. He only has the first two now. All though this ordeal he's wanted to get home. Every time someone has seen him in the hospital or spoken to him on the phone he says he wants to come home. He's never had strong legs. He's always sat most of the day. He fell out of his chair -- cutting open his head and breaking his nose -- because walking from the rehab thing to his room wore him out so he fell asleep. The walk is maybe 150 feet. The guy can't piss standing up anymore; he could barely do it while he had all his toes. He can't pull his pants up. And he wants to go home.

He claims that he can take care of himself and my grandma like he was before. Back then he had my aunt coming over every Saturday, though. She'd take them shopping. She'd clean. She'd bath my grandma. She did as much as she could on that one day to set them up for the whole week to come. My parents visited them about every third Sunday. My aunt has taking this horrible situation with the toes and decided that once my grandpa gets home she's going to cut them off. No visits. Not even a phone call. My dad keeps saying that my grandpa can't go home. The thing is my grandpa's mind is totally sound. My dad isn't willing to cancel his appointments with students. My mom has taken time away from work to be there when my grandpa gets home. She's mostly there to make sure that when he falls she can call someone and, hopefully, then convince him that he can't do everything alone anymore.

He'll need someone to help him with my grandma. He'll need someone to help him help himself. That means they probably won't be living in their 3 bedroom ranch home and into a tiny 2 bedroom really expensive apartment in a nursing home.

Happy New Year.

It's the End of the Year as We Know It

2011-12-31T21:40:00.000-08:00

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."

I've written it before...

2011-12-12T20:37:00.000-08:00

And I may as well again:

It really sucks when the world reinforces the bad things you believe about yourself.

Happy American Thanksgiving

2011-11-24T22:38:00.000-08:00

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.

Of Work and House

2011-11-17T21:30:00.000-08:00

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.

Literary Felt

2011-10-23T19:34:00.000-07:00

Spike Jonze: Mourir Auprès de Toi on Nowness.com.

Childish Things

2011-10-11T21:04:00.000-07:00

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.

Where are the woods?

2011-09-26T15:49:00.000-07:00

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.

Once more unto...

2011-09-01T20:08:00.000-07:00

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.

Thank you, Internet.

2011-08-31T21:04:00.001-07:00

Thanks for helping to reenforce some of the most negative things that I believe about myself.

It's nice to know I'm right.

*hugs*

ticknart

Work is what I do to convince myself that I'm not a useless human being.

2011-08-30T20:32:00.000-07:00

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.

Nobler?

2011-08-30T12:26:00.000-07:00

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."

Office Politics and Fucking Bullshit

2011-08-29T22:38:00.000-07:00

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.

Eight Down, Five to go!

2011-08-28T08:29:00.000-07:00

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.)

"The bluest ink / Isn't really sky..."

2011-08-26T22:06:00.000-07:00

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.

Radiolab Rules

2011-08-23T20:55:00.000-07:00

I think these were more inspired by that most amazing of NPR shows, but totally worth watching.

Moments:

Symmetry:

And the shit goes on...

2011-08-18T17:23:00.001-07:00

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.

I've always been yucky!

2011-08-17T20:37:00.001-07:00

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.

What They Do All Day and How They Feel About What They Do

2011-08-15T21:09:00.000-07:00

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.

The beginning is the hardest part. Except for the middle and the end.

2011-08-14T19:57:00.000-07:00

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.

Nixon, FOUND!

2011-08-13T16:04:00.000-07:00

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.)

A Mixed Blessing.

2011-08-08T19:54:00.000-07:00

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.

Even Tim Gunn knows...

2011-07-30T21:55:00.000-07:00

...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.

Fuck Off, World

2011-07-27T20:12:00.000-07:00

So, taking this job has been a huge fucking mistake. I should have stayed in the North Bay comfortably miserable.

Acoustal Tunes

2011-07-20T20:46:00.000-07:00

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?

After the Death of Dobby

2011-07-19T18:18:00.000-07:00

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.

"One loyal friend is worth ten thousand relatives."

2011-07-11T20:40:00.000-07:00

---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.

"...the inablity to construct a future."

2011-07-10T21:48:00.000-07:00

---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.

Do you know what a "bronie" is?

2011-06-27T20:31:00.000-07:00

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*

I don't think Facebook is a good fit.

2011-06-26T12:01:00.000-07:00

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.

Saturday's Are Alright For What Now?

2011-06-25T20:58:00.000-07:00

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.

Blood From a Rock

2011-06-24T18:54:00.000-07:00

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

Have you heard the good news?

2011-06-23T10:12:00.000-07:00

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.

It's your fault!

2011-05-26T19:27:00.000-07:00

You didn't watch when it was on TV!

"Did you know the clitoris is a holy sacred thing?"

2011-05-16T20:18:00.000-07:00

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.

Ka-BOOM!

2011-05-15T23:11:00.000-07:00

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.

la laa laaa

2011-05-15T20:10:00.001-07:00

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.

A Bit More About Glee

2011-05-07T10:55:00.000-07:00

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.

Two Down

2011-05-07T07:40:00.000-07:00

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.

A Bit About Glee

2011-05-05T17:25:00.000-07:00

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.

It's Not Doing What You Love...

2011-05-03T20:50:00.000-07:00

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.

BAH!

2011-04-29T21:34:00.000-07:00

So, my week was shitty.

How about yours?

Dreaming Little Dreams

2011-04-23T20:11:00.000-07:00

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.

During The Commercials

2011-04-22T18:27:00.000-07:00

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.

Goodbye, Sarah Jane Smith

2011-04-21T16:39:00.000-07:00

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.

The Book of Mormon, the Musical

2011-04-20T16:19:00.000-07:00

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.

More Adventures in My Boss is an Asshole

2011-04-19T16:05:00.000-07:00

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.

One down, several to go.

2011-04-18T16:07:00.000-07:00

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.

Movies I Must See This Year...

2011-04-15T17:49:00.000-07:00

...even if they suck.

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.)

I'm sad because I missed Diary of a Wimpy Kid: Roderick Rules before it left. Still, there's always the 'flix.

Anything that you must see or just want to see this year?

Another Post in the Ongoing Saga of My Boss is an Asshole

2011-04-14T16:27:00.000-07:00

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?

A Modern Old Sit-Com

2011-04-09T08:15:00.000-07:00

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?

It's Snowing

2011-04-07T19:39:00.000-07:00

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.

Two Meals Today

2011-04-05T09:45:00.000-07:00

Breakfast: Grilled Cheese

Dinner: Biscuits and Gravy

It's my day, dammit.

In The End

2011-04-04T09:22:00.000-07:00

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.

Adventures in Anxiety

2011-04-02T21:19:00.000-07:00

--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.

Sitting in the Iron Throne

2011-04-01T22:41:00.000-07:00

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.

Favorite Moment

2011-03-30T21:44:00.000-07:00

Just finished watching Amélie, again. Great movie.

My favorite part is so small I don't think most people would notice it:

After having her dream crushed by a cat, Amélie's doorbell buzzes. She goes to answer the door. When she hears Nino Quincampoix say her name, she slows down and walks as silently as possible.

That's my favorite part of the movie.

Je pense, donc je suis? Vraiment?

2011-03-27T21:49:00.000-07:00

A while ago, I read a piece of a story (yeah, it was fan fiction and it has a lot of parts, but they feel too short to be called chapters) where a character, who has isolated herself because she's been teased a bullied for years, loses something that is important to her. After she spends the day searching for it, ditching all her classes, which makes her more depressed and anxious, she climbs several flights of stairs into a room where she knows she can be alone. She enters the room, walks over to a window, pushes the window open, steps up, and steps out. She falls, of course. She survives because she's the kind of character who isn't really allowed to accomplish what she sets out to do. (Also, she's not a main character. She's used to push the main character into a new situation and build that character more.)

That's where that part of the story ends. With her on the ground.

The story didn't bother me. In fact, I found it very honest. What bothered me was a lot of the discussion that came after it was posted.

The character was hated by nearly everyone who has been reading the story as it's been serialized. She was passive. She let things happen to her. She didn't take stands or push back. Her response was to run away and hide if she could. If she couldn't hide, she took what was thrown at her then moved on knowing it, or something similar, was going to happen to her again.

So, when she tried to kill herself, many of the people wrote comments saying good riddance. They didn't like her. They didn't want her around. They thought she took time away from the main characters.

One person tried to defend the character I've been writing about. This person wrote very passionately about people being bullied and how it destroys self-esteem and what it's like to live in constant fear.

Of course the defense was brushed aside. She would have been a better character if she'd stood up for herself. Bullies back off when confronted. She was a drag on the story. She didn't do anything to help the plot. And so on.

The defender continued to try to write about what led the character to step out the window. The defender wrote that this character just got tired of being noticed and wanted to end it and went the only way she could.

To that, one of the other people who hated the character wrote that if she hadn't wanted to be noticed that she wouldn't have tried to kill herself in such a spectacular and public way and that if she hadn't wanted to be noticed, she should have stood up for herself so she'd be left alone.

The defender quit trying to defend here. There was no point in the defender continuing on. The others didn't want to understand. So the conversation stopped online, but not in my head.

(For the record, I am not the one who was defending the character. All of this was written between the time I moved from North Bay to Cowtown and I started getting online regularly. It took a long time for me to catch up on the reading that I wanted to do. I can't say I would have gotten involved. I'm not so good at being part of a "community," even if it is a virtual one.)

What bothered me was the person saying that she tried to kill herself in a spectacular and public way and the implication that there's a way for a person to kill him/herself that wouldn't be spectacular or public.

In this world where (nearly) everyone believes that their life is precious, one taking his/her own life will always seem spectacular, once it's discovered. People are always shocked, whether it's someone quietly hanging him/herself in the garage or if he/she puts a pistol to his/her head in a crowded mall and pulls a trigger. One is reacted to more strongly than the other, but it all comes down to the average person asking why a person would kill him/herself. Because they can't fathom that someone wouldn't want to live. And once the death is discovered, even the quiet, private one, it becomes spectacular and public.

So, how do you explain to the average person that someone may not value his/her life like most people do? Can the average person understand the feelings of self-hatred, or worthlessness, or simple exhaustion others may have? Or will it just bounce off them because they simply believe that humans are simply animals and the first thing all animals try to do is survive?

Are humans simply animals? Do we simply want to survive as a species, if not as an individual? Are those who don't want to survive then wrong? Is it part of "je pense, donc je suis"?

Passed Probation

2011-03-22T17:21:00.000-07:00

And my feelings are mixed.

I was asked the other day if I really hate my job, or is it just my boss that I hate. It's my job. I'm sick of feeling like I can't actually finish anything. I'm sick of feeling like I can't take time off because I'll get blamed for the problems that happen when I'm not there. I'm sick of not blogging because every time I've logged into blogger in the past six months it's all I've wanted to blog about.

I hate all of that.

Applications start going out this weekend. Here's to hoping.

What did you do at work today?

2011-02-28T15:57:00.000-08:00

Oh, I thought about wedding vows:

When I was a kid, I knew it would happen; it was all that I expected.

In high school, I didn't know if I wanted it; hearts broke and mended and broke again.

As an adult, I figured it wasn't for me; my life was mine and there was no reason to share.

I walked through life not looking for love and not expecting it. My world was small and I liked that.

When we met, friendship was all I hoped for. Going to a movie or browsing through a bookstore with you brought me exquisite joy. With you, my world grew. I never expected that and never imagined more.

Then, one day, sitting across from you, talking, I looked into your eyes and I saw myself reflected back. Not me as I see myself in the mirror or me as I see myself from the inside, but me as you see me. I saw that person in there and I knew who I wanted to be. I wanted to be the person you saw.

The more I'm with you, the more I feel myself becoming who you see. The better I'm becoming.

Fuck

2011-02-10T16:48:00.001-08:00

Well, she's got the job. Oh, sure, the offer wasn't made today, but she's got the job.

Son of a bitch.

Maybe I should start looking into Cowcity. Lots of stuff there and I only mildly hate the area.

More Hatred About Work

2011-02-09T19:51:00.000-08:00

Today, she said to me, "I knew after you being here about three weeks that you wanted to leave. So I went to her and I said, 'Go to him and, you know, sort of hint that it's not just him who's having problems. I mean, I don't want to get walked off and lose my benefits for walking in and wrapping my hands around his fat fucking throat and strangling him.'"

I guess that means she recognized early on that I was trying to do a good job. I guess it's a compliment. I guess.

She's leaving, though. Her last day is in two weeks. One of the reasons I can occasionally enjoy going to work is leaving in 14 days.

Another person who helps make the day bearable had an interview last week. It went really well. She knows it went really well because she has a good friend who is on the hiring committee, although that friend wasn't in on her interview. I think she'll get hired and leave two weeks later. She'll possibly leave by the end of the month.

Work just got real fucked.

I hope I fail probation. (I won't, though. I'm not the kind of person who can willfully sabotage his job.) If I fail, I'll just end up back in the North Bay at the other job I didn't particularly care for.

I care for this job even less, though.

Is it wrong that I keep hoping that something will go dreadfully wrong and my boss will one day be found in dumpster after having been missing all weekend?

Hourly Comic Day '11

2011-02-01T16:19:00.000-08:00

Today is Hourly Comic Day. I forgot all about it until about three minutes ago. I suck.

Have a couple of videos:

Yeah.

Good Day

2011-01-23T08:57:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was the best day I've ever had at work. And by "yesterday" I do mean "Saturday."

"Why was it the best day you had at work?" one who reads this blog on a semi-regular basis might ask. And I will tell the ones who wonder:

My job is like fighting in a war with a new battle every day. In these battles I am never allowed to advance, only hold the line. On the best days, when I come in, everyone on the schedule has shown up for work. They get there on time and they do their jobs. The line is strong and we will not lose any ground. Also, no one calls in sick the for the next day so I don't have to rush around asking nurses if they want overtime or making phone calls asking those at home if they want overtime or hoping that one of the registry nurses will come in. On the best days that doesn't happen.

On normal days, we've taken casualties in the battle and we've called in some reinforcements to help us hold the line. Then the sick calls come in and I rush around medical and make calls so that I can get the reinforcements lined up for the next day to make sure the line in held. During normal days there are several time when it looks like the line might be pushed back, but it isn't. We hold, just barely.

There are too many days, though, where by the time I get to work we've been forced to retreat and regroup. Someone called in sick during the late afternoon or the night and we couldn't fill that hole. We had to spread our line a little thin in that area to make sure it's getting covered by someone or else we fall back so we can, for the day, eliminate that position entirely. It's not an elegant solution, it's not a good solution, but it's a solution that has to happen quite often. These are also the day when I have to deliver the news to nurses that they're going to have some involuntary overtime, either they're going to stay a second shift or be forced to come in early the next morning. I don't force them to stay, I just warn them that they may be forced. I'm sure one can imagine how happy that makes everyone feel.

Real shitty days are the days the line's been bombarded and we lose massive amounts of our people. We call in all the reinforcements we can, but there are still holes. Several nurses get forced into mandatory overtime, but there are still holes. And in the end I am asked what went wrong, why did things go so bad? And all I can blame is the flu or nothing at all.

So, there you have it. Each day I go to work and I fight a battle that I'm not actually allowed to win. Too many extra people wouldn't be cost-effective on the days everyone because those extra people would just stand around and do nothing. So I have to wait until we lose position before any reinforcements can be called in and I have to hope that there'll be enough so that if we have to retreat, we won't have to retreat very far.

"Dear Deer"

2011-01-18T17:00:00.000-08:00

No, I think she deserves to have a little more crush.

Obsessive Song: "Walking In Los Angeles"

2011-01-18T08:24:00.000-08:00

"I shot a man in Reno."

2011-01-17T15:50:00.000-08:00

I don't social media. (Yeah, I blog, but like 10 people read this thing and maybe three semi-regularly comment and one is my brother. Really, this blog is about as social as I am in real life.) Nearly three years ago, I killed my Facebook and MySpace accounts, among others. I didn't get the point and found myself feeling obligated for keeping the things updated because they were supposedly about keeping in touch with people. I never like the places, but I had joined anyway because that's what we're supposed to do, right?

Since my sister-in-law and brother had their daughter I seen my mother use her Facebook nearly every day. At first she mostly checked for new baby pictures because the two "grown-ups" in the growing family were pretty crappy about e-mailing pictures of the baby, but it seemed like a new photo of her appeared on Facebook each day. Now my mom uses Facebook to play games mostly.

In November, Heels basically announced that she's not going to blog anymore. Nothing to post, she said. Didn't like worrying about having content to post, she said. And I get that. In the past three and a half month I've posted like a dozen times. (I did way better when I had to e-mail posts in from work because I couldn't get to Blogger.) The difference between me and her, though, is that she still posts stuff to Facebook, probably to Twitter, too, but that's blocked to outsiders. (Okay, her Facebook is blocked, too, but my mom is a friend of Heels and every now and then my mom fills me in on what Heels has posted there. Creepy.)

The thing is, she makes announcements there. The last one that I read was that the Heels/Logic family has found a place to live up in Portland. That couldn't have been a blog post?

I don't mean to pick on Heels. She's my friend and has been for a long time and hopefully will for a long, long time. It's just knowing that there are these bits of information that I can't get to, but could. I could if only I re-joined Facebook or got a Twitter account. It's just that easy. I know it is. And I don't have to do anything, really, except friend the people I want to friend and anger/disappoint the people I don't friend. Hell, I wouldn't have to twit. I wouldn't have to put up a picture of myself and I could ignore the kittens that are thrown at my wall. And I'd still get to see what my friends have to say.

The problem is they never say enough. Not for me, at least. I want to know more than just the 140 (or whatever) characters. I don't like the bullshit of the "liking" of the posts. (Seriously, someone writes that his 15-year old cat died and 37 people "like" it? What the fuck?) The discourse under a post seems to be people saying the exact same thing in different ways. That's not communication. I don't know what it is, but it's not really communicating with each other. It's like people are shortening their thinking into bumper sticker length thought and then setting out to find other people to agree with them. (And help then grow people in Farmville or doing "jobs" in Mafia Wars or whacking things in Bush Whacker.) What is that, really? Is it something that I want?

No. I don't think I do. I don't want to think in snippets. It's bad enough that I think I think in paragraphs rather than essays, I don't want that shortened to thinking in only sentences.

I'm not going to rejoin Facebook. I'm not going to join Twitter. I'm going to continue to miss what little people are saying and I really do miss it. But social media just isn't for me. Not at this point. Maybe if I ever start my own business. Yeah, probably then.

Apologies About Me

2011-01-01T05:53:00.000-08:00

Part of me feels like I should apologize for that last sentence of the last post I wrote. I should apologize because I really do want the peoples out there who happen to read this to have a happy new year. I hope they did. Doesn't change how I feel about my job or where my life is at the moment or the whole new year thing in general, but I do know that the new year stuff isn't really about me. (Although I'm sort of in the mood where I sometimes think it should be only about me.)

So, I hope yours was nice. I hope that if you're up before six in the morning it's because you never went to sleep last night.

" Marley was dead, to begin with."

2010-12-31T16:08:00.000-08:00

The mention of Marley's funeral brings me back to the point I started from. There is no doubt that Marley was dead. This must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful can come of the story I am going to relate. If we were not perfectly convinced that Hamlet's Father died before the play began, there would be nothing more remarkable in his taking a stroll at night, in an easterly wind, upon his own ramparts, than there would be in any other middle-aged gentleman rashly turning out after dark in a breezy spot -- say Saint Paul's Churchyard for instance -- literally to astonish his son's weak mind.

----A Christmas Carol, by Charles Dickens

I bring that up only because I like it so much.

With great certainty I can write, "There hasn't be a single work day since Thanksgiving (US style) that I haven't thought I'd have been better off staying at my old job and just being. Odds are also pretty damned good that I've had the same thought on the weekends, too. With the possible exception of Christmas Day." and mean every single word.

My job exhausts me. I used to think that it was just my boss, but he's just a major part of it. How do I know this? Well, he's been gone all week.

With the jackass at work, I feel like I'm being constantly monitored for any little mistake. I misspell a name and I'm going to be called into his office and have to sign a letter of expectations. I'm in the bathroom when he needs me I'll get a talking to. I go to a staff meeting not ready to take the minutes when I haven't been told that I am the one who needs to take the minutes and he'll decide that they don't need me and I can go back to my old job.

With the jackass gone he's not there to distract me from my job. My job depends on people keeping their word. It depends on them showing up for their shifts. It depends on them being willing to cover holes in the staffing when someone calls in sick. It depends on the fucking generous nature of the shit-eating assholes. (To be fair, there are several really great nurses there who do come in for their shifts and work hard and well and fill behind others during the same shift, but the vast majority of the time they are unwilling to volunteer any extra time when the fuckheads call in sick on a motherfucking holiday because they're fucking assholes. (You'll have to pardon me.)) And that's been my experience this week.

When something goes wrong I'm not blamed, but I'm the first person that's turned to to solve the problem. "What's happened?" I'm asked. "What's your plan?" I'm asked. "Do you think we'll have to mandate someone to hold over?" I'm asked. "What are you going to do about it?" I'm asked. Oh, did I mention they ask these questions right after they get off the phone with the sick person and turn to me and say that the person just called in sick? No? Well, they expect me to have everything ready before the person calls in sick. To have someone waiting in the wings to be ushered on stage just in case the star isn't there. I'm sorry, though, this isn't the theater and the only understudies we have are at home and need plenty of notice because, guess what, when they're not on stage they make plans of their own to be elsewhere.

And so, when I go through days like this, I'm exhausted. Not physically, but mentally. I'm odd, I know that. For some dumb-ass reason I have this faith that most people are generally good and want to help out and make things easier for the people they work with day in day out. I don't know where this faith comes from. Everywhere I look when I'm around people I see the asshole-ish nature of the majority of them. I see how selfish and greed they are, but I keep fucking believing that they want to help, maybe not some faceless stranger, but that they want to help the fucking assholes they see every fucking day.

Shit. I'm sorry. I'm tired. I'm upset. I'm sick of the bullshit. I'm sick of not feeling secure. I'm sick of living in my parents' house because I want out of this job so much I'm willing to move again.

I'm just... I don't know, but I am.

Have a happy fucking new year.

http://sadtrombone.com/

2010-12-07T16:59:00.001-08:00

http://sadtrombone.com/

Obligatory "It's been a while..." Post

2010-12-06T17:07:00.000-08:00

Like more than a month.

Well, my excuse is only that my job tends to wear me out. My brain, at least. It drains me of my desire to do much of anything. Even sleep is hard to get. And it's not the work, not at all. The work is interesting and keeps my brain moving every day. It's my god damned boss. One day that man's going to wake up to find that he has no nurse supervisors and no office staff to help him and he's going to be miserable.

(My boss are also the reasons I haven't spent much of any time with anyone up here since I got back. I'm just not in a mood to be able to deal with people who haven't really experienced me on the lower end of my mood spectrum. Sorry about that.)

To rectify my situation I've prepared all the stuff needed to apply for a job with the local community college district.

That, however, creates a new problem. I really, really need to get out of my parents' house. I need to get into the solitude that I had before. I need a space of my own. (My dad insists that the room I'm using is my space, but it's also where he keeps his CD collection, and all their video cassettes and DVDs are, and where their old (like by ten years) computer is, and art books, and on and on. It's not really my space, just a bed and half-bath I'm borrowing for a while.) But the job I'm applying for is in Moo-ville, which is about 75 minutes away, if traffic is good. I'm not commuting like that. So, what's the point of entering into a lease of any kind? If things go really well, and I hope they go really well, there's a possibility of me moving in a couple of months.

Once again, I failed at NaNoWriMo. I wrote. Got maybe 10,000 words total. Not horrible considering how much work has pissed me off and I was pretty damned sick for a week and we spent nine days away from here to visit my brother, his wife, and their new baby in Oregon. Didn't actually finish anything, but that's how my cookie crumbles.

I'm sure there's plenty more to write, but not now. Not tonight. It's time to go and help with dinner, now.

Be well, peoples.

More Thorough Explanation

2010-11-01T17:24:00.000-07:00

Don't feel so good about doing this, but I promised and explanation.

I don't like my boss. Part of me feels like he's picking on me, but the more logical part figures that since I'm the new one it's easy for him to ask how I'm doing and get an answer. Still, he jumps the gun on things.

Example 1:
Guys were moving my desk out of our office. I was told not to help, so I sat. One guy made a joke about lazy people when they came back and saw that the new desk wasn't moved in yet. I made a joke about me being very lazy.

Got that?

A couple of hours later, the supervisor for the guy who made the joke came to me and told me that I really offended the guy and I had to apologize. The next time I saw the guy, I apologized and everything seemed cool.

The next week my boss called me to his office and told me that he heard I had a problem with those guys. I told him I didn't. He told me that he heard there was a problem. I asked him what the problem was. He said he didn't know then told me that this was a warning.

Example 2:
I made a copy of a page I need to work on a report. There were some very confusing and sort of contradictory entries on the paper. To remind myself to ask about it on the next work day I drew an arrow to the problem area and wrote "WTF?" nearby.

I asked and was answered the next workday, but the woman I asked wanted to make a copy of my copy to show one of the supervisors. She did. I did my work and shredded my copy. The woman I asked ended up showing it to my boss. He called me into a meeting they were having, with the supervisor, and proceeded to tell me, in front of them, how inappropriate it was that I wrote that. I tuned out the rest and left, cowed.

A few days later he was meeting with the woman I asked and he called me in. Once I got in there he proceeded to hand me a letter stating what I did wrong by writing "WTF?" and mildly berated me. I signed the damned letter and listened to another lecture about why it was inappropriate. (Although I personally think those three letters are as inappropriate as saying "darn" or "shoot." Adults know what those words really mean.) He made a copy of the signed letter, told me the original would be in my personnel file and I left, angry this time.

Example 3:
A week or so after that, he was in my office talking to one of the women I share it with when he asked her to leave. He turned to me and said, "I hear you have a problem with [one of the supervisors]." I wanted to say WTF, but didn't. Instead I asked him what I did. He said he didn't know. (WTF!) He told me that when we speak around women we can't talk to them like we talk around other guys. (WTF MFer!) Then he asked if I noticed how he spoke to the women I share my office with. I told him that I didn't notice him speaking any differently to me that he did with any women. He looked taken aback by that. When he recovered he said I needed to go to the supervisor, apologize, and find out what I did. This was my final warning, he told me, next time he learns I've disrespected or offended someone I'm going to be punished.

What did I do? Well, the day before I gave that supervisor something that I was working on that was in a layout I designed. I was looking for criticism and advice. Near the end of the day, she brought it back to me and said it was okay. I said thanks and that I wanted to get my boss's opinion on the layout, too.

After I left for the day, she was speaking with my boss. He asked about me. She told him what I said, but, according to her, she said it in a here-something-odd-he-said-to-me way. She insisted that she wasn't offended or disrespected and that I didn't owe her an apology.

Ever since then I can feel my boss keeping a close watch on me.

And that's part of the reason for the stomach aches. It's like it was way back before I had a blog and was working at 'Bucks. (My manager was sort of trying to push me out or down or something. He'd constantly schedule me to open one morning (in at 4:30AM) and then close the next (There until at least 11:30PM) then I'd either get a day off or a short mid-day shift and the day after would be open then close again. And when I'd trade he'd get really pissed at me. It really sucked. Which is why I quit that one time then started to blog.) It really hurts me, mentally. Especially since I'm trying to hard to do a good job.

By the good graces of the god of shoe laces I'll get my letters of recommendation soon and have a job at the junior college by Christmas or New Year's.

Aching

2010-11-01T06:06:00.000-07:00

I leave for work in 25 minutes. I already have a stomach ache. Three furlough days in a row did not make this place, my boss, better.

I'll try to explain more thoroughly this evening.

Be well, everyone.

A Song I Enjoy

2010-10-31T12:20:00.000-07:00

One of Many

2010-10-26T17:39:00.000-07:00

When your stomach starts to ache as you drive to work, aches all day long, and stops aching when you drive off grounds, it's time to find a different job.

So...

2010-10-25T16:58:00.001-07:00

I am an uncle:

Her name is Sophie.

The world welcomes her.

This Little Bugger

2010-10-21T16:02:00.001-07:00

It's me, writing from work. I don't, however, remember the e-mail address to my blog, so this is going to be (has been?) e-mailed to my regular Gmail and then posted. What a convoluted way to do things.

Anyway, I'm really not a fan of my job.

I was talking to my uncle yesterday, one of the two who work here as officers, and told him that the thing that made working her depressing wasn't the inmates, but the staff that I work with. He told me that as long as he's worked as an officer the joke has always been that it's the staff that's crazy because we choose to come to prison. Doesn't matter that we get to leave after eight, or so, hours and have weekends off. We choose to be here.

Which isn't to say that all the people I work with are horrible, some aren't. At least one is pretty great. Many want too much from me because they don't want to deal with their supervisors, but I keep pointing them in that direction anyway.

The toughest part of my job, so far, is that I have to depend on people to do what they say they're going to do. I call them and set up for them to fill a shift. They tell me yes or no. If it's yes then I put them on the schedule and they are supposed to come in for that shift or call, in a timely manner, and say they can't make it. If they don't show I'm not quite blamed for it, but I hear about it and there are, often, subtle hint in voices that it's partially my fault. As if I should have known whether these people are dependable. I'll be finished with my fourth week on Friday, how can I know if these people are dependable or not?

The most annoying part of my job is the equipment. I have a chair that won't always stay up when I sit on it, but it stays up enough to give me hope so I keep raising it and it keeps sinking. I don't have a stapler or tape dispenser or drawers. The widescreen monitor I've been supplied with takes up nearly half the width of desk space and feels too close to my eyes.

And then there's my boss, which I really shouldn't get into. It makes me upset just dancing around the subject in my brain.

Well, that it from me at 1:30. Maybe more when I get to a computer at my parents' house and finally post the bugger.

A Letter

2010-10-19T18:10:00.000-07:00

Dear Ira Glass,

For years, I have heard your voice during pledge breaks asking people like me, people who haven't sent money into their local NPR stations, to please, pleeeeeeease, pick up the phone and offer support. I've heard you call and embarrass people who had listened to NPR for years, but had never pledged. And I've heard you interview people who listened to their NPR stations for years and how they felt when they weren't pledging (like enough people must pledge because the station goes on no matter what) and then how they felt when they finally did pledge (good, like they were part of something important). I've heard all of it and still scoffed and figured that if you were ever unlucky enough to call me I'd tell you the truth: I'm a selfish person. I'd like to see you put that on the radio!

Then came a change to my life. I left my old job that wasn't good but was comfortable for a new job that's in many way's worse than the old one, and I'm getting paid the same. I'm living with my parents, again. It's not horrible and it's temporary, but it's not at all where I want to be. I'm supposed to be an adult, right. Things are just... unsettled. I figured that I deserved to feel good about something... anything.

So, on Friday, after donating some money to NaNoWriMo, I went to my current NPR station's website and pledged some money. (About 12% of my current paycheck. I did it monthly to make it easier on my wallet. That's 1% of my money each month. (For the record, I did that math on the drive back from work this afternoon, during a pledge break.)) I'm not paying rent and I quit buying comics, so I had money to give. I filled out the information they wanted, address and such. I choose not to get any of the gifts; I'm not a fan of jazz. I hit the send button, or whatever they labeled the button, and waited.

I didn't feel any better.

I didn't feel like I was part of something bigger than myself or part of something good.

I just felt like I'd felt before I pledged.

Where was my moment of elation? Where?

Maybe, I thought, the good feelings took a while to settle in. Maybe on Saturday or Sunday.

Nope. Nothing.

I'm not angry or bitter or upset or anything like that. I had a little extra money and I spent it on something good, something very valuable. I'm just disappointed.

Thought you'd like to know, Mr. Glass.

Your pal,

ticknart

NaNoWriMo!

2010-10-15T15:52:00.000-07:00

Feel like a tool for not really blogging and never posting comments on other peoples' blogs and then I go and do something like this:

NaNoWriMo starts in about 16 days, depending on where you are in the world. I'm going to attempt it once again!

Will I finish 50000 words this year? If the growth in word count over the last, uh, four attempts is any sign, then yes!

Even if I don't accomplish it, though, I did send them a donation and would like to solicit any of you, who still pop by once in a while, to send them some bucks.

You can donate money. (Which is what I did and have done for the past three attempts.) Or you can buy stuff.

I'm sure the question is something along the lines of "Why should I pay money to a website that encourages failures who think they can write a novel in a month when they've never done it during the other 335 days in the year?" That's not the reason, though.

The reason to donate is the Young Writers Program. It helps to create a curriculum for teachers to set of a classroom version of NaNoWriMo and I think that's a good goal. Why? Well, here's a bit from the A Letter to Families section:

Some of the skills novel-writing builds:
Fluency: Writing so much in so little time boosts students’ proficiency in grammar, spelling, and punctuation, and will help them approach future writing assignments with ease and confidence.
Confidence: When creating so much text in such a short period of time, students realize just how much they can accomplish when they put their minds to it. NaNoWriMo leaves young writers asking themselves, “What’s next?”
Creativity: Creating characters, situations, dialogue, and even whole planets from scratch helps kids think, but it also teaches them how to apply their fanciful ideas to a full project.
Time Management: Our curriculum teaches students how to tackle a huge project by breaking it down into manageable bites!

Even though it's not mentioned, I bet that at least a few students out of every class that's part of the Young Writers Program will become readers, too. It seems to me that the USA, and the world, needs more people who read things, other than forums, on a regular basis. I wish the Young Writers Program had been around when I was a kid.

Cheers!

That Lunch

2010-10-12T17:16:00.000-07:00

My brother requested knowledge about that last (and technically first) lunch I had with my co-workers in the North Bay. Here goes:

My normal lunch back then was at 11:30, but the ladies didn't think they could get out of the office until noon, so I had to wait and explain to the other employees, without actually explaining anything, why I hadn't left for lunch. Me and three others was all I wanted. When asked, I dodged the issue and vaguely suggested that I had to do something but it couldn't be done before noon. Got some looks, but no one asked me anything else.

Noon finally rolled around and I watched the pair of court reporters head out. I waited a little before getting up myself, didn't want to make it look like I was heading out with them to keep some of the others from joining in on their own. The PJ's secretary, who invited me to the small lunch, joined me and we walked out together. One staff member watched us. I'm pretty sure she knew what was up. I didn't care for her anyway and the other people I was going out with either liked her less than I did or pretty much outright hated her. (At lunch, on in particular seem happy that the not-so-great woman knew she wasn't invited.)

As we stepped out the front door of the office I was informed that three more people had been invited to lunch, the three other clerk guys, and asked if it was okay with me. A large part of me wanted to bolt, but I said it was okay.

At lunch, he guys had some beer and sandwiches. The ladies had wine and two had a salad and one had a sandwich. I had iced tea and a sandwich and these spectacular homemade potato chips the brewery makes, really the only reason to eat there if you're not getting beer. The chat was idle and mostly about work and what a pain in the ass it was. Some bitching was made about the woman no one likes. (I made a comment that got that woman in some trouble the next day, which was my last day there.)

When the check came, I pulled out my wallet just like everyone else and made sure to be told that my lunch was on them. Then I admitted I only pulled my wallet out to make sure that they insisted I didn't have to pay. I didn't want to seem like I just expected a free lunch from them.

Back at work, no one made a comment about lunch and how we all came back in as a group.

In general, the lunch was painless. I didn't say much, mostly listened. The chips were wonderful, the sandwich just okay. The guys liked their beers, where were very pale, and that gals like their wine, whites with a rosy hue.

Questions?

You Are Now Entering Week Two

2010-10-04T19:26:00.000-07:00

The sky was beautiful when I got to work this morning. It was a dark, dark blue with huge, dark clouds cutting swaths through it and a sliver of moon barely highlighting a dark hole in the sky. Off to the east, above the first building, the sky lit up as lightening streaked down.

The rest of my day, not so great.

See, I've been at my new job a week, now, but I haven't been trained to do much of anything.

Yes, I've been taught how to sort of fill out one report, but that's it. Still, lots of people seem to think I know how to do the whole job I've been hired to do. Even the two women I share an office with and who both know that they were gone most of the week and didn't do any real training!

*deep breath*

The problem is that people keep asking (actually telling in too many cases) me to do things for them that will be part of my duties when I learn how to do them. This would be okay if it were only two or three people coming to me, but it's more like twelve to fifteen and I have to explain each and every time that I don't know, yet. Who should I ask? they ask. Your supervisor, I say. She's not here, they say. Well too fucking bad you shit, I want to say, but don't.

Word spread fast that the person who was going to be handling the schedule from now on was there. Now they're all trying to convince me to let them get around the "chain of command" in the nursing unit. Fuckers. I didn't get the job because I'm an idiot. Do it the right way, god damnit. And while you're at it leave me alone for at least a week so I can actually learn what I'm going to do.

(Also, lucky me, one of the women who I share my office with likes it to be a "safe" environment. She wants everyone to feel like they can come in and chat (i.e. vent) with her. I think she just likes being in on all the drama. And there's a whole lot of drama goin' on there. All of it bullshit, of course, and I have no choice but to be in the center of it.)

On the plus side, they got me a computer logon. Still no e-mail, though. For some dumb-ass reason they want to import the data from my old e-mail into this new one. I'd rather they killed the old one dead and started me a fresh one. I'll get enough shit clogging it up from this job, why would I want the old stuff, too.

Somewhere near the end of my day I made a comment to my other cell -- You'll have to pardon me, jokes like that aren't supposed to be funny while actually working at a prison. -- mate, the one who doesn't encourage drama, about transferring to a different unit. She said, "Already?" I said, "Well, since there's no room for advancement for me here." She gave me this odd, surprised look and said, "You already figured that out?" "Yeah," I said, thinking that I got the scheduling position because of a glowing letter from my last supervisor saying that I'm a smart guy, of course I figured it out.

Oh, I just remembered something:
I saw the drama queen, who's the "lead" because she's a bump above me although she's not my supervisor, putting together a table in Excel this morning. Across the top she put her name and the names of the eight OTs (that's my classification). On the left, she listed the reports that people turn in, let's say there were fifteen to twenty. She put exes in the boxes of the people who completed the reports. I keep hoping it was my over active imagination, but I'm pretty sure that I had exes in half the boxes under my name. Everyone else seemed to have two or three.

Fucking great.

One more thing before I really get depressed:
My job will have me doing a lot of calling on the phone and waiting for people to call me back. I don't have a phone, though, and it seems unlikely that I'll be getting my own phone.

Smart, right?

Hope the rest of you well.

schtooputidy

2010-09-28T17:31:00.000-07:00

So, two days at the new job now. Both days: stupid!

The people who have, in the recent past, done the job that I've been hired to do: out on vacation with the first not returning until next Thursday.

The back-up people who could teach me to do my job: out sick.

The forms to get a user logon and e-mail: unavailable, due to stupidity.

Chits to get a key to unlock my office door: have to wait for those.

Facility: untoured.

I spent yesterday being "orientated" along with a new nurse. Most of the talk was about stuff for the new nurse because for me to really learn anything about how to do my job I need to be able to log on to my computer.

We didn't take a tour because it was hot out. Well, duh! It's central California in September. It's always hot out!

Today I sat with a woman and watched her do her job. Sure, she showed me some places in the building and I saw what it's like to rush to finish your reports, but the odds of me ever doing what she does are pretty much nil. I was bored for probably 7 out of the 8 hours today.

(Oh, a good thing about this job, I don't have to take a lunch and I can come in early. That means I can come in at six, eat at my desk, and leave at two. Awesome.)

Tomorrow's not looking to be any better, either. If I'm lucky one certain person will be here tomorrow and I'll be able to get my security training and my keys and my logon and maybe actually start to learn my job.

Oh, well. At least I'm getting paid.

sdraC

2010-09-22T11:37:00.001-07:00

A blue folder is being passed around the office. It has a card in it. I think it's safe, although self-centered, to assume that the card is for me.

*sigh*

Last week there was a surprise baby-shower thing for an expectant dad. (The due date is this Saturday, so dad-hood can begin any moment.) That was when it occurred to me that there was a heavy possibility that the people I work with would do that sort of thing to me. (To the best of my memory every other time there was a party for a person leaving the person leaving knew all about it.) Later that afternoon I went to one of the ladies who's always involved with the planning of parties, if not the one who starts them, and kindly asked her not to have a party for me.

"I don't want a party like that," I said. "I don't think I could handle it well."

"Well," she said, "we only just started talking about it. I think I'll be able to put a stop to it. Nothing's really been planned."

I took her word for it. "Thanks," I said.

"I know that it can be uncomfortable being put on the spot," she said.

"Yeah."

"It's not really fun." She paused and sort of looked around at nothing. "How about a lunch out with just a few people?"

"That'd be okay."

"Then we can control who comes."

"It's not so much the who," I said, "but the how many." It was the best I could come up with to explain my phobia/anxiety/panic problem without really explaining anything at all.

And that, to the best of my knowledge, was that. Until I saw the blue folder and how it bypassed my desk. My desk happens to be situated pretty much in the rear center of things, so I think I see, and hear, a lot more than most people think I see, and hear. When it was placed on the desk next to mine I could see that the name crossed out on the staff list was three up from the bottom. Enough of these folders have been passed to me that I know where my name on the list is.

Guess where.

Go on, guess.

Yeah. My name's three up from the bottom.

A card. Okay, cool, I can handle a card. I don't really want a card, but I can handle it.

The thing is, when this office give out a card, it's rarely just a card. It's usually some sort of gift, too.

I hope it's not a gift.

I really don't want a gift.

I know that the card and possible gift are ways to thank me and say I'll be missed. I know this. However, the card and possible gift won't make me feel like my day-in day-out work has been appreciated.

You know what has made me feel like that? It was the times after my move was announced that the judges pulled me aside as I was dropping off my mail or heading back from the drinking fountain and telling me that they noticed how hard I worked and that they were glad that they had someone like me around to keep the paper flowing so they could more easily do their jobs.

Imagine that, people telling me something made me feel appreciated and useful. I especially like that it happened on an individual basis because that meant they wanted to say something, not that they felt/what they thought like they had to because others were saying it or that's the sort of thing one says at farewell parties.

Lunch is supposed to happen in ten minutes.

Me and three others.

Here we go.

Saulutations

2010-09-20T15:45:00.000-07:00

Greetings internarts and bhlajers from the work e-mail.

This post, which is planned to be brief but may take a turn for the lengthy, is to let all you all, who care, know that most of my shit was moved up to Cowtown by my parents and myself on Saturday. It now resides in a storage unit off the highway near where my parent’s live. At all of this, I am relived, tired, and a bit annoyed.

FYI: If you believe yourself to be a nerd or a geek with nerd tendencies and the opportunity arises, go and see w00tstock. It’s totally worth the money. You will laugh and laugh and then cry because they just won’t stop and you’re getting tired and then you’ll laugh some more because it’s all so very funny.

Some goals in the coming month:

· Visit a bank or two and see if I can get pre-approved for a home loan and if so for how much and if for that much what kind of impossible, for me, down payment will I need?

· Scour the internet to price rentals, in case the loan thing really does turn out to be an impossible dream.

· Check out that mining town because it’s closer-ish to new work, even if it will make being hermit easier.

· Occasionally pimp my brother’s webcomic. Come on, people, it’s a silent strip about a robot trying to live the American dream. What’s not to like? (Other than the fact that he only updates once a week. Really, it should be two days a week. Amiright?)

· Get and activate a cell phone so I have fairly permanent phone number.

· Seriously look into getting a personal domain and move this blurg over.

· Other stuff that I don’t want to mention here.

Something I realized while packing my shit was that when the end time comes and ekeltristy goes away, most of my shit will be totally useless.

Regularish blurging will hopefully commence next week.

A Post on Nothing and Stuff

2010-09-02T11:15:00.000-07:00

For ten glorious minutes the part of the server that controls WebSense was down and I could open up sites that I haven't been able to open for a while, including Blogger.

The question, now, though, is will blogger be able to post this? Will it work after WebSense has come back up? I don't know, but I'm willing to try.

For the most part, I spent those ten minutes clearing my e-mail out. Why -- oh why! -- do Amazon and Barnes and Noble insist on sending me notifications on things that are new or that I might enjoy? I always, ALWAYS, try to opt out of getting notifications, and yet there was my e-mail full up with stuff I didn't care about. So much was there that I didn't get to finish reading actual e-mails, there were four or so left to read, let alone reply to any of them.

For the record, from my e-mail:
My brother's webcomic is Made in USA. The first strip is here. As his biggest fan I would be remiss not to point everyone toward it. Also, marvel at the picture he uses to as for donations. HI-larious.
I am very sorry that the international cuisine night didn't work out. In a few week's I'll always be available for such a thing.
I can no longer see the comments people write. The browser just times out like it does when I try to get into the back door at Gmail.
Blogger was visited to check out the new thing and to clear the spam comments out of old(er) posts.
Dark Skies is going to be released on DVD in January. No, please don't fight over who's going to get it for me for my birthday. I'll have bought it long before then. Sorry to disappoint each and every one of you.
There are new lights in the parents' house. The place is starting to look downright fancy.

Just to let you all know, not being able to blog, for me, was like losing one of my baby toes. Sure, it's annoying, but I got used to it soon enough. I mean, it's not like I really use that tiny little bugger for walking.

Not being able to get to my personal e-mail is like losing all ten of my toes. Yeah, I'll learn to walk pretty well, but I'm never going to be comfortable doing it.

(A total aside, but... The world that the Guardians of the Galaxy live on, where the Green Lantern Corps comes from, is called Oa, which is pronounced "oh-ah"; my questions is: since the Guardians are from Oa they are Oan, how is that word pronounced? Are they "oh-ah-en"? "Oh-an"? "Own"? I'm just not sure.)

I've missed blogging, though. It was a way of doing something. I don't know what, exactly, but it was a way. There have been many days where I wanted to post about the bullshit here at work or the impending move or the... other... stuff in my life. And then there are the posts I want to write about the weirdness that is fan fiction; I really want to get into the structures of crossovers, that I see.

Oh, did I mention that furloughs are back? They are. I got one full paycheck, so far this year, for July, then they decided to fire everyone three days a week again. At least this time I knew what to expect and I don't feel like I have to cut anything back since that one month with a full paycheck wasn't enough time to lead me back to my pre-furlough life of luxury and excess. (Plus, Websense blocks Amazon, so I couldn't blow too much money on DVDs and CDs and books and such.) Let me tell you, it's really fun being a scapegoat. I hope the economy of California never quite recovers and I'm a scapegoat for the rest of my life because I like knowing that people don't want to think critically and realize that maybe, just maybe, there are some spending/taxing issues the state's fucked up that has nothing to do with its employees and maybe fixing those would help solve some problems. You know, maybe.

Well, that's it for now. Other than the PS I wrote first, this'll be the last thing you read, if it posts, fingers crossed, knock wood, belch the alphabet.

Be well, peoples.

PS You all went and saw Scott Pilgrim vs. The World, right? If not then you have no right to complain about next summers crappy bunch of movies. You could have and should have supported something wonderful and unique and fun and joyous so that more of its ilk would be made, but you didn't and they won't. For shame.

HOODY FUCKIN' WHO!

2010-08-23T16:00:00.001-07:00

I HAVE BEEN OFFERED A JOB IN COWTOWN, AND TO QUOTE THE PERSON I’M IN CONTACT WITH: "Apparently my supervisor came to my office while I was gone and got the information she needed because now I got an email saying your paperwork has been approved!!!!!!"

That means all the bullshit that I had to put up with last week while she was on vacation was a waste of time and effort and energy.

With luck, and a talk to my supervisor, I’ll be living in the downstairs of my parents’ house by the end of next month. Almost exactly five years after I moved out of there last time.

And to repeat myself from a comment to the last post: "wings, if you check this out, call me again. After five. I have your number written somewhere, but I couldn't find it yesterday. I know it's safe and sound in my e-mail because, you know, I didn't think I'd lose my ability to check that."

For those still, occasionally, looking...

2010-08-12T12:21:00.000-07:00

I said I wouldn't blag from work, but today I must.

A few things:

For the two in the know, the test went well. Results have been e-mailed and am awaiting a reply so an official announcement can be made. Hopefully on Monday or Tuesday. (SQUEE!)

While I waited for the results of the test, I sat in a fairly comfortable (for a doctors' office) chair and sang to myself. I was nodding my head and tapping my heel. The old lady across from me asked me if I was singing. It caught me off guard and made me smile. It's not often one finds a person who really watches people, let alone asks them about it.

Completely unrelated to the last two paragraphs, I have found a piece of music that sums up the person I've been for the last 20ish years of my life. It's "Per I Morti Reggio Emilia" from Mirah's To All We Stretch the Open Arm. The song is mournfully hopeful. What I mean by that is that the music is sort of sad, but there's a bounce to it. I keep rewinding (or whatever the correct word is now) myPod to listen to the song over and over again the last two days. I really like it.

It's probably on the ünternerts somewhere. Take a listen and understand that even if you don't hear me in it, I hear me in it.

Dunno If This'll Work

2010-07-26T08:16:00.001-07:00

Looks like WebSense has now totally blocked Gmail, even my sneaky way in. At least it keeps timing out, rather than hitting the page that tells me the site’s blocked.

So, I can’t read my personal e-mail anymore and I’m not handing out my work e-mail, sorry.

Also, I doubt I’ll be posting on my blog for quite a while. Don’t like posting from my work e-mail, if posting from it works at all.

I’ll keep reading for as long as I can, though.

TTFN

Once Again, A Test

2010-07-23T11:19:00.001-07:00

Qs & As

2010-07-23T11:17:00.001-07:00

Q: What did people do before people all got the 'nets and hung out at their desks not working?

A: They wandered around spending 25%-75% of their time away from their desk talking to coworkers.

Q: Was WebSense supposed to increase productivity?

A: Dunno, but it makes me have to answer the phone and get up to the front counter a lot more even though I'm supposed to be the last in line for those two jobs. Maybe I should learn to enjoy the company of my coworkers so I'm not at my desk anymore either.

Why in the world...

2010-07-23T09:33:00.001-07:00

...does it seem like 99% of all french press coffee makers have glass beaker?

I want a french press. Sure, I don't drink coffee, but it'd be nice to have in a cold morning rare visitor makin' ice cream sort of way.

My problem is that I think I've dropped just about everything I use on a semi-regular basis in the kitchen at least once. If my drinking "glasses" weren't made out of plastic I'd probably be on the third or fourth generation of glasses by now.

I know I'd break a french press beaker. I know because while I worked at 'Bucks, I broke at least two. One I dropped, the other I hit on the corner of a counter. I wasn't allowed to use the french press for a while. So, when I buy a french press, I'd like one made out of stainless steel, or something like that, so it'll only dent and not shatter. I'd like it to hold four cups. Is that too much to ask for?

Also, it's not like I need a french press, it's that I'd like one. At least I'd like to look for them and price them. Can't do that with the WebSense being up. Can't only see the ones that they sell at the coffee shops and super stores around here. So far, they all only sell the ones with glass beakers.

Ah, well.

On Trying to Ignore Spoilers

2010-07-22T10:23:00.001-07:00

Y'all remember yesterday when I wrote about the comic shop, where I shop, being sold out of Scott Pilgrim Vol. 6: Scott Pilgrim's Finest Hour, right?

Well, I stopped by Barnes & Noble, as I said I would, and it turned out they hadn't recieved their books from their warehouse, yet. Also, I wasn't the first person to ask about it. The girl I talked to said I was the third to ask her that day(!) and like the tenth to ask her since Saturday. She offered to put a hold on one for me, though.

I thought about it for a couple of seconds, but since I REALLY wanted it yesterday, I figured I'd go to my apartment and call other local(ish) comic shops to see what they had. They had nothin'.

On my break, twenty minutes ago, I went back over to Barnes & Noble and got them to pull me a copy. Well, they'll "pull the first one not already saved" for me.

The guy didn't know when they'd get them in. Until that time, I have to avoid reading the reviews that are already coming across my feed reader.

It's hard, people.

Yeah, not hard in any real-live-people-starving-or-suffering-from-disease way. It's hard in a more existential full of ennui way. And that's hard.

An Irrational Concern

2010-07-22T09:10:00.001-07:00

Sometimes, I worry that there'll be air bubbles in my pee and the usually steady stream will start to sputter causing the urine to have little to no power behind it thereby making it spit and splatter onto my pants.

SONOFABITCH!

2010-07-21T12:23:00.001-07:00

I called the comic shop to have them pull me a copy of Scott Pilgrim Vol. 6: Scott Pilgrim's Finest Hour, and they're sold out.

The fucking story opens at 11AM and they were sold out by noon.

First, what the fuck? Did they not realize how popular Scott Pilgrim is, especially with the movie coming out 23ish days?

Second, I guess I'll be stopping by Barnes & Noble on my way to the comic shop this afternoon. Maybe they'll have a copy.

Because I am bitter and hold on for way too long.

2010-07-21T12:07:00.001-07:00

On Me Writing Creatively:

3rd Grade
A while ago, my brothers and I looked through a box of old schoolwork our parents had kept. Every story I wrote when I was in 3rd grade started with "Hi, I'm... and I'm from... and I like to... One day I was..." Not the most clever, but, hey, how else was I supposed to get people to know the main character? (Although, one did star a flying walrus from Mars, based on a stuffed animal I have. That was cool.) They were all short and silly, just like an 8-year-old's stories ought to be.

4th Grade
The teacher would give us a prompt -- a beginning sentence, an end sentence, a basic plot -- every couple of weeks and we'd write a story that was a page-ish long. As I think back on it, the writing probably had more to do with handwriting than anything else. I mean, what's a page of handwritten story on grade-school lined paper? 150 words, max? Yes, we were learning the parts of sentences and how to construct them, but I don't remember learning anything about storytelling.

After the stories were graded, the teacher would post them on the wall for the whole class to read. I never really enjoyed any of them. They weren't like the books the teacher read to us in class or that I read on my own. The stories were stilted. Lots of them were dreams. (I know I used the dream thing at least once because the first time I'd heard a story that ended with the hero waking up, I was blown away. By the end of that year, I hated characters waking up at the end of a story.) I never cared for the stories on the wall, mine included.

I liked writing them, though. It was fun. I can only remember one prompt, about being in a cave. I have no idea what I wrote. I was a mixed up little kid, in many ways. I could sometimes be morbid, but usually aimed at pleasant. I probably thought that it would be a check plus instead a just a check.

5th Grade
This was the first time I ever had a story I was writing get away from me.

As a class, we had just read The Castle in the Attic and the teacher wanted us to write a story about how we'd act and react to being two inches tall in the real world. The story was supposed to be simple, I got shrunk and still had to go to school where I'd find everyone else in the class had shrunk, too. The problem was that a lot of stuff could happen between waking up two inches tall on morning and then falling asleep that night because, of course, everything was back to normal the next morning. I went crazy. The stuff I wanted to write about kept growing. The minimum number of pages was probably supposed to be five or so, my first draft was over twenty pages; when I went back and rewrote it in cursive it got even longer, mostly because of the cursive, but also because I added more to the story.

I can't comment on how well the story was written, but that was the most fun I'd had writing, up to that point. I'd never had a story wrestle control away from me. It was like I was describing events as I witnessed them rather than making stuff up. It felt really good.

8th Grade
My English teacher had been a math teacher, mostly, for years and years. Yeah. Still, he'd do these cool writing exercises where he'd put on a piece of music, and he played all sorts of genres, and the class would write a story, or whatever, for however long the song was or until he had us stop. We did a couple a week.

I liked writing them. There was a freedom in being able to do anything I wanted, in being able to describe what I heard in the music. And I went everywhere. I wrote about going to an old-timey car show, although I'd never been to one. I wrote about an epic space battle. I wrote about kids sitting in a car and fighting while their mom was in the grocery store. I wrote about monsters rising from the deep to crush the cities of mankind. The music varied and so did my writing.

After he collected the stories, he'd read a few out loud to the class. Mine were never read which was okay. I hated it when my work was read to classes, especially when I was in that class. The problem was that on all but one writing, he'd give me Cs and Bs, with no explanation as to why. The girl who only wrote romance novel stuff always got As. My best friend, at the time, got As on his crappy stories about camping or riding dirt bikes. They also had comments on their work.

The only A I got was for a write a paragraph contest he made all his classes enter. He commented on that story. This is how it read: "A, Published." Out of the sixty, or so, students he taught English mine was the only paragraph to be published.

That'll show him! I figured. Now he'll have to pay attention to what I write.

School only lasted a month or so more, but I still only got Bs and Cs and no comments on my stories.

10th Grade
The assignment was to write a story at least so long. No other limits.

I wrote about a guy who, while walking through the woods, came across a field with a door standing in it. I described the forest and the field and the door. I had the guy open the door. I had the guy put his arm through the door. I had the guy close the door and leave as fast as he could.

To me, it was a story about fear.

Along with the grammatical errors (mostly run-on sentences) the comment on the last page was, "What's beyond the door? I want the character to go through the door. B-"

I wanted to scream at my teacher that the whole point was that the guy didn't go through the door. Of course, I didn't.

Years and years later, my brother told me that he enjoyed the story I wrote about the door in the field. He liked how the guy was too scared to go through. That made me very happy.

* * *

So, why am I writing this?

Well, I'm trying to work up courage and I think part of finding that courage is letting go of some of the dumbass stuff I've held on to over the years.

It's a process. Don't know if it's a good process, but it's what I'm working with, for now.

Well, I think it's cool.

2010-07-20T12:15:00.001-07:00

A brief history of computer icons.

Lerner and Loewe

2010-07-19T14:33:00.001-07:00

Re-watching my Muppet Show DVDs (Why haven't seasons 4 and 5 been released yet?) and just saw the Pearl Bailey episode this morning.

Okay, so throughout the episode, Floyd is bitching about having to be a knight for the jousting scene in Camelot. Eventually, Floyd just goes along with it, but as that happens Scooter goes to Kermit and says that the guys who wrote Camelot won't let them do the scene unless they get money. (Kermit spent most of the money on two suits of armor.)

So, Kermit goes out to introduce a scene that's almost, certainly not at all like the jousting scene from Camelot.

The curtain opens and everyone is dressed in medieval clothes and they begin to sing "Ascot Gavotte" from My Fair Lady.

I laughed so hard that I had to back up the show to hear all that I missed.

An excellent joke, Muppet writers. Totally unexpected and, as Bullwinkle once said, "Thousands won't."

(Also, did Pearl Bailey ever play Dolly Levi in Hello, Dolly!? After her little bit of singing the title song during that sketch all I want is to see her in that role. She would have been so much better than Streisand.)

To Serve Men

2010-07-19T08:41:00.001-07:00

I like to cook stuff and I like to watch cooking shows. This, inevitably, leads me to want to cook almost everything I see on TV.

I don't, of course. My kitchen has no room. The counter-space in nonexistent. To do any real chopping I use a table thing on wheel my mom bought for me about six months after I move up. It's not perfect (and it now has a box fan on it), but it works.

Still, I can't really do, at least well, the things I see on TV. I don't have a food processor or blender, see the no room thing, since I don't even have cupboard space to store them, nor do I have a standing mixer. Someday, though, I will. I'll have room and some of the simpler gadgets that aren't necessary, but really great to have.

Anyway, yesterday I was watching Rick Bayless's show on PBS. He was making carnitas. First he used pork and then he used duck.

My entire being wanted to rush out to and buy a boston butt, or two, and start roasting. I didn't. I mean, what would I do with that much meat. I couldn't eat it and my fridge/freezer isn't very large.

His food looked so good. I swear I could smell it through the TV.

In the end, as with, it seems, every episode of his show, he had a dinner party to serve what he cooked to his friends and family.

And here's where the "dream" (for lack of a better word) falls apart, for me. I want to cook the large quantities of food. I want to roast the boston butt, cook massive amounts of chicken and rice over an open fire on a giant metal platter, and bury a whole pig in a pit to cook all day. I want to do that and I want other people to eat it and enjoy it. I just don't want to be with people as they eat and talk and whatever.

Yeah, I want to do everything that Mr. Bayless does on his show. Except for that last part. I could do without that.

Here's Something:

2010-07-16T15:35:00.001-07:00

Apparently, it's so ingrained in me that I am an asshole, that I'm an asshole even in my dreams.

All this week, I've made people I care about cry, in my dreams. Three different people in three different dreams last night.

And, in my dreams, I revel in my asshole-ish-ness. In my dreams, I enjoy being an asshole to the people I care about.

Of course, it probably doesn't help that I've spent a large portion of the last two weeks obsessing over an e-mail I sent out about 23 months ago. Yeah, now that's healthy.