Tuesday, June 05, 2012

A Talk at Work

We started by talking about the change in attitude by the dental people who work third watch. She said she remembered when everyone was fairly happy and got along and worked together. I asked her when she thought the attitude changed. She said the major difference happened in February when just about everyone on third watch thought they were going to be laid off and then in March when one of the assistants actually was let go. Then she moved into how much it bothers her when people say that there’s no work out there because she’s worked two jobs for a large part of her working life. “There are jobs,” she said, “if people are willing to look for them.”

“The ones that are easiest to get are at places like KFC,” I said, “where the turnover is high. How can you support a family when you’re getting paid just above minimum wage?”

“Inflation’s a problem,” she said.

I agreed.

“It got so bad,” she said, “because all those women wanted to go to work in the ‘50s.”

I was shocked and a little bit outraged. To blame increased cost of living on women working? Absurd. Right?

I didn’t say that though. I just listened. She believes that because women started to work and households started to earn more money that when they started to spend that money prices on everything were raised. “It’s supply and demand,” she said. “If people weren’t willing to pay the higher prices then prices would go down.”

“But,” I said, “almost all families were single income until the mid ‘80s.” -- I don’t actually know if this is true. It sounds true enough, though. -- “By the mid ‘90s most were double income families. Most families can’t survive comfortably, or at all, without two people working.”

“They could if prices go down.”

“But they’re not going down, even during the mess that’s been going on for the last five years.”

“Prices are going down,” she said.

“What? Like car prices?” I asked.

She said that car prices are going down because so many people have started to buy used cars. The car companies have to lower their prices on new cars. I said that I haven’t noticed a difference. There’s not much below $20,000, I said. She said that everything that lasts has come down in price.

“Does that really matter if wages haven’t kept up with cost of living?” I asked.

She looked at me.

“I mean,” I said, “that when they take out the price of food and fuel it looks like prices haven’t gone up much.”

“But everyone has to eat,” she said, smiling.

“Exactly. How can a family do anything if the price of food and the heating and how they get to work keep going up?”

“They can’t,” she said, “but if they refused to pay high prices--“

“How can they pay less for food?” I interrupted. “Grow their own food? Most people can’t even have a garden. Food prices have nothing to do with women going to work.”

“It’s like this,” she said. “When one person works they only make this much money” – She raised her hand up a little. – “and can only spend so much. When two people work they make this much.” – She raised her other hand higher than the first. – “What do they do with all the extra? They spend it and that make prices go up. Better to have only one person work.”

My jaw hung slack. “I’m not an economist,” I said, “but I don’t think that’s right.”

“I haven’t studied economics,” she said, “but I grew up in the 60s and 70s and I remember my mom saying that everything was getting more expensive and this was when lots of women started to go to work. If just a few had gone to work everything would have stayed the same, but when most of them started working prices went insane.”

And if I start to pay you to protect me from tigers and I never get attacked by a tiger living in California then you must be protecting me from tiger, I thought.

“If all the women just quit their jobs” – She smiled and chuckled for the first time during this conversation, as if it were all a joke. – “prices would get better.”

For a second I thought about mentioning the insane inflation of food prices in China, but knew that she would just point out that more women are working there, too. It’s hard for me to point to any recently successful economy in this world where prices on food are going up where women aren’t a large part of the workforce. I think they have to word as much as they want to work. She’d just argue that all the prices there were cheaper before so many women started working.

“They wouldn’t go down,” I said, instead of speaking my thoughts.

“I think they would,” she said. “You know, people can survive with only one person working. They just have to make sacrifices.”

I let the conversation stop there. I had nothing more to say to her. She’s not going to leave her job even though she just married one of the officers here. We talked about that a while ago, long before she told me inflation is because women work. She’s going to work for a least another 10 years, she told me. She’s going work, even though he brings home a nice salary and will get a good pension when he retires, because she wants buy some nice things and fix her place up and live comfortably.

Sunday, June 03, 2012

How to Make Friendship





Found this picture over on *shudder* Facebook. It explains so much about my life.

More Out

Sent out nine applications last week. One of them still works for the state, but the job's in Houston. Which is cool. (Not as in the weather.) It would be cooler, though, if it would  be for a promotion. Still, if I get an interview, I'll be happy.

Wednesday, May 23, 2012

Life's Distractions

When the mail goes out tomorrow I will have sent out eight applications this week. Most have been to Cowcity, another was sent to Hell-A.

Every day I want to quit my job. My mother keeps telling me I should and go back to school. Get my MA and teach at a JC. I feel like I can't though.

And I don't understand... It's that word "can't." Of course I can. It'd be easy. I just write a letter to my boss saying my last day will be payday then fill out the paperwork and leave.

...And then go back to school?

I want to go to school. I'd like to get my Master's, but I don't want to not be working while I'm in school. The degree needs to be for me first, not the possibility of a job. Besides, if I quit I lose over four hundred hours of sick leave. (If they fire me, pardon, lay me off it'll keep for five or seven years, depending on the person I speak with, and will be waiting for me when I start back up with the state.) Mostly, though, I want to make sure I have a job before I go and spend thousands of dollars as an excuse to write about fanfiction.

As usual, thinking about all of this deepens the valley my brain sits in. And so I go for distractions.

A while ago I wrote (at least I'm pretty sure I wrote, but I couldn't find the post) that I think most people find something important to them to keep them too distracted to become too... thoughtful, as if full of thought. People distract themselves with other people, be it a lover, friends, children. People distract themselves with work. People distract themselves with hobbies. People distract themselves with TV or video games. People distract themselves with drugs, sometimes hardcore and sometime perfectly legal. People distract themselves with sex. Distraction helps keep us and the economy going.

I've been trying to find something to distract myself with to get rid of the thoughts. When I was still living in North Bay I was coming close to being distracted by writing. I got to the point where I was writing a little every day. Just notes, mostly. All of it silly fanfictions. Nothing great, but I was writing. I was on my way to being an amateur writer. (Sure, someday I was hoping to go pro, but that would be sometime after I competed in the Olympics.) Then I got a new job and moved.

I thought I'd be cool with new job. Just move in, move on, and keep going. And then it turned out my job was built around misery and dreams about finding babies to care for. And I couldn't write fiction of any sort. Sure, I could still blog, although not much, as seen by the paltry number of posts in 2011 and thus far in 2012. The hole got deeper and the deeper it goes the harder it was for me to write. But I got out of that craptastic job last fall, everything didn't get better. Oh, the stress and the baby dreams disappeared, which was great, but they were replaced with an all encompassing feeling that my position will never change. My work life will never get better. I'll always be on, or near, the bottom, ignored because I am the way I am and physically feel ill when I try to be different. These past seven months and dozens of applications and at least five interviews only reinforce the horrible things I believe about my professional life. And I'm tired of thinking about it. Hence, distractions.

The thing is, though, that I don't care for people, don't plan on having a lover, don't often feel like I have any friends, and don't want kids. I hate my work and that won't change unless I can move up a little. Video games work for a day, maybe, but not longer than that and only two or three times a month. I argue with the TV and dissect what I watch to myself all the time. Drugs cost money that I don't want to spend. And I'm not having sex with anyone anytime soon.

That leave a hobby. But I have no hobby. Writing was a hobby, but from deep in the hole I can't write what I'd like to write; I can only write narcissistic, nihilistic nothings like this. What can be my hobby?

Well, last week, I bought a ukelele (you may pronounce it either way, I'm cool with that). So far it is only mildly distracting because I can't play songs on it. I can read the music and I've sort of learned how to read tabs, but I can't move from one chord to another within the space of a beat, yet. Practice is what it'll take. Patients is what I hope I have. I really need... I really hope that it'll be distracting enough.

Monday, May 14, 2012

5-Year-Olds

There are three 5-year-old kids in my brain. And I talk to them. Not out loud. In my head. Which is where most thoughts should be kept.

Two of the kids I explain stuff to. I break things down into the simplest terms I can. They ask questions and I try to answer the questions the best that I can in ways that they understand. They tell me when they don't understand what I'm explaining. I don't know who these kids are and I don't know what their sexes are. I just know that they are human and not much older than 5.

The third one, I know. She's my niece. I talk to her about me and her and living life. I talk about why I am the way I am and why she shouldn't just assume that one way of living, mine or someone else's, is the right way to live. She listens to me and she's pretty sure that I'm an idiot, but for some crazy reason she still listens. I do my best not to make her sad. I happens, though.

Wednesday, May 09, 2012

Even though we all knew...

I did not get that job I interviewed for a week-and-a-half ago. Shocker!

However, one of the people doing the interview came to me personally and said that I was in their top three (or five, depending on when I listened to her). She also said that she and the other woman interviewing me saw that I was ready to be put into an analyst position and that I was being wasted (my word, not her's) at my current level. She also hinted that there may soon be more analyst level position being introduced where I'm at.

I thanked her and didn't roll my eyes.

I have depressing and sad questions I want to ask, but I think I'll keep them to myself this evening.

Wednesday, April 25, 2012

Like a Hippo in the Desert

The usual complaint: I don't like my job.

The surprise: I don't HATE it like I did my last job.

The unfortunate truth: I can't seem to settle into a comfortable loathing.

I didn't like my job when I lived in the North Bay. Just scroll through, oh, just about every post I wrote from September 2005 through September 2010 and you'll see how much I didn't like the job. With the exception of the time they forced us into using a horrible, horrible computer program (seriously it was "paperless," but my office used twice as much paper after we started to use it and even though the page for a person had their address it neglected to show their zip-code, to find the zip-code you had to click five different links), I didn't hate where I was. Eventually I settled into a comfortable loathing of the situation and my biggest frustration was that there was no where for me to promote to.

So, I moved to the physical location I'm at now. I thought that if I came here there'd be opportunity. I'd work hard and do a good job and when a position for a promotion came up I'd get a good shot at it because I'd have an in. Except that since I got here there have only been two openings for the next step up. One I didn't interview for because I could be closer to the asshole boss I had at the time and the other one I really wasn't qualified for. And so for the next six months I tossed out applications to other places with no response.

Eventually I had two interviews. Both at my current location. Both in the same class that I'm in now. I was offered both jobs and jumped at one of them because I had to get away from the job that was giving me stress dreams. And it is so much less stressful. (I haven't had any dreams about having babies forced on me for months.)

The biggest problem with this current job is that there isn't enough work for me. I know that sound's crazy, but it's the way it is. There are three other people in my classification in this group and we all do the same work. One of us has her own special location, so her work isn't horned in on. The other two and I all deal with the same pile of work and it isn't enough for three people. I think it's just the right amount for two people though. When one of us is on vacation there's plenty of work to do, but not so much that anyone becomes overwhelmed and we're only occasionally bored.

And I've been continually sending out applications for a promotion. Since I got this job I think I've been on six interviews that would be a promotion. Obviously I haven't gotten any offers. I have another one on Friday, but I'm not going to get the job. (I'm not just being negative. There's been a woman filling in for the past three months. She's going to get the job because she's been doing the job.) Part of me doesn't want to go to the interview, but I need to for the exposure, if for no other reason.

I'm hoping that I'll be good enough in the interview that maybe the next time an out-of-class appointment comes up I'll be thought of because I don't know how else to do it. There's some sort of game to the situation, I know that much. The problem is that I don't know what the board looks like, let alone know any of the rules. How can I play the game? Do I even want to play the game? If it has to do with schmoozing can I play it? Maybe there's some way around the game. Maybe if I am good enough at my job someone will take notice and give me a shot.

That's why tomorrow I'm mailing out an application for my current level at a place that's even bigger than where I am. I hope, but don't really believe, that if I get in I can dazzle through my work ethic and when I get an interview I'll finally have been able to help myself. Is it possible to get people to notice you by doing what you're supposed to do really, really well?

I hope so.

I wished I believed so.

Sunday, March 18, 2012

SMASH

Over the last two day's I've watched the six episodes of SMASH out there, as of two-thirty PM PDT.

For those who don't know, SMASH is, theoretically, about the development of a new Broadway show based on the life of Marilyn Monroe. Like most TV shows that are procedurals, though, it's really about the characters and their lives. And that's where it falls flat, for me. Right now I only really like two characters. The first is Eileen Rand, played by the deliciously scene chewing Anjelica Huston, the producer of the play trying to pull together the backers and money to put on a workshop of the play. The other is Derek Wills, played by Jack Davenport (which is fun because I've been slowly working my way through the original version of Coupling where he plays Steve), the plays director.

The problem with these two characters is that they are so buried in the world of Broadway that they don't provide a way into that world. They know the tricks and rules so they don't explain anything to the audience. Maybe that's part of why I like them so much. They know. They're inside. That's the world I want to know.

There are two characters that are new to the Broadway world: Karen Cartwright, played by Katharine McPhee, and Ellis Tancharoen, played by Jaime Cepero. Ellis is the assistant to Tom Levitt, played by Christian Borle, a co-writer of the play and Karen the the wide-eyed mid-west girl come to the big city to be a star. These are characters designed to lead an audience into the weird world of plays. I don't like them, though.

Karen is too naive. She's constantly shocked at, well, everything. (Except for one time where the director wanted her to sleep with him and she didn't. That was a great moment.) She's exhausting.

Ellis was who I hoped would be the audience surrogate. He's the assistant to one of the writers. He has a front row seat to the creation of the songs and book. He can ask all the questions about how the songs are written and help the audience see how plays are created. Unfortunately, it looks like he's going to is a villain, and he never asks questions about the creative process.

The fact that I don't really like any of the characters isn't my real problem with the show, though. I want to delve into the behind the scenes creation of a play. I like to see how the sausage is made. I want the boring dirty details that go creation.

It seem to me that SMASH moves too fast. The songs are too finished. Where's the revision? Where's the evolution the the music? The alteration of the lyrics? The dances are perfected. Where's the choreographer practicing by himself in front of the mirror finding the perfect step, turn, turn, step, kick, step? Where's the frustration at teaching the chorus the step? Yes, I like seeing the dance numbers and hearing the songs, but when they come out complete it makes everything seem too easy. I don't just want to hear about Julia Houston, played by Debra Messing, having trouble writing the book and lyrics. I want to see her agonizing over finding the perfect lyric, the perfect line. (There was a moment in the third episode when Julia was trying to figure out how to write "Mr. and Mrs. Smith," but it was only a taste of the agonizingly beautiful frustration of creation I want to see.)

And then there are the musical numbers. They are so polished. So finished. I don't just mean the choreography. I mean that the songs are very finely produced. Example: In the first episode Karen sings the song "Beautiful" while she auditions for the part of Marilyn. It starts out with her singing with only a piano accompanying her. Then in come stings and whatnot. Yeah, the lighting changes, suggesting that this is a bit of a fantasy sequence, but why can't it just be a simple audition? Oh, yeah, the people in charge of the show want to be like Glee and make a shit ton of money selling covers, and originals. Still, when they're rehearsing and the only instrument is a piano and then I hear drums and strings and horns I get pulled out of the show and wonder where the orchestra is sitting? At least in Glee they always magically have an orchestra with them.

I plan to keep watching this show, even though it bothers me. I don't hate it like I do Glee. This show was built for a person like me. I love theater, including musical theater. I love TV shows that go behind the scenes. So I'll keep watching.

Saturday, March 17, 2012

Something I Want To Be...

I would really like to be the person someone runs lines with as they learn them. The lines, I mean.

Friday, February 24, 2012

Really, Only I Care

I've been watching too much YouTube and it led me to decide that when they make a Wicked movie, based on the play, not the book, Anne Hathaway should play Elphaba. She can act. She can sing. And she'll probably look really nice green.

Still not sure about Galinda/Glinda, though. The idea of Heather Morris as Glinda amuses me, but I don't think she has the voice for it. (Of course, whose voice could compare to Kristen Chenoweth? No one.)

At least I have the main character cast. (I even have a back-up actress in Jenna Leigh Green. She'd be good, too. Although I don't think she's "bankable" enough to be cast.)

Thursday, February 23, 2012

(Nearly) Last Minute Decision

I am going to Image Expo on Saturday! Hoping that there will be a new Phonogram series announced.

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Saturday, February 18, 2012

Screw It

Here's a few more:



(Couldn't find a live version pre-1983 so I thought we should go with the original recording.)



I guess I'm just in a mood tonight.

Not even close...

...to the song I wanted to post, but these are two that I never skip.


I grew up in an era without variety shows. I think I missed out on something.

Thursday, February 16, 2012

Another Fucking Presidential Election

Okay, well... I wondered how it would be to work with someone who actually cared about... I mean... It couldn't always have been the way it is now. It must have been different in my grandfather's time. You were there. You had Kennedy. I didn't. I've never heard a president say "destiny" and "sacrifice" without thinking, "bullshit." Okay, maybe it was bullshit with Kennedy, too, but... but people believed it. And I guess, that's what I want. I want to believe it.
That's from the movie version of Primary Colors.

Yeah, I watched that movie again. I like it. But that bit up above really stuck with me this time.

Do you remember the US presidential election of 2008? Do you remember all the people hoping for hope? I think the character of Henry, from the movie up above, would have like that election. He would have been out there with the "Hope We Can Believe In" signs like so many others were.

And even though I wasn't one of those people. Even though I called it all bullshit early on, I'm a little bit sad that no one's going to believe, really BELIEVE in a candidate this year.

Sunday, February 12, 2012

Julia Nunes Videos

This was the first thing of hers that I saw:

It's an excellent video, I think, especially since it all seems to be done with a web cam. I like the song a lot, too.

This is her newest video from her soon to be released album:

Much more slick, but still wonderful.

Friday, January 27, 2012

A Mild Case of Turmoil

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?

Sunday, January 01, 2012

Three Down... Seven To Go

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.

Saturday, December 31, 2011

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

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."

Monday, December 12, 2011

I've written it before...

And I may as well again:

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

Thursday, November 24, 2011

Happy American Thanksgiving

As usual, I start this thing with no purpose in mind, just that I want to write something.

Upstairs, my brothers and their wives chat with my brothers' friend. I'm down in my room, in the dark, listening to music and hearing their din. Across the way, the dryer is spinning, zippers http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifbanging against the drum.

A few years ago, Thanksgiving, I flew with my parents up to Oregon to visit with my brother and his (then) girlfriend. We went with her parents out to a beach so people could look for agate. I climbed up on rocks and watched the waves roll in, shatter against the rocks, then slide back out. Someone caught a picture of me out there, looking and I was asked what I was thinking. I thought of nothing, just the ocean. Later that week, I overheard my brother, while he was looking at the photos, say that that picture was exactly how he thought of me.

I still don't know what to think about that.

I'm sort of officially my niece's godfather, without all the god stuff. Not sure if I have to sign anything or just agree to it. I'll probably see her once a year, twice if I'm lucky. There's no way to know for sure, though. I don't know what my role really is other than really hoping that nothing horrible happens to her parents. To be fair, even before this I hoped that nothing horrible would happen to my brother and his wife, so that hasn't changed.

'Night, all.

Thursday, November 17, 2011

Of Work and House

The second week of October I started a new job, sort of. I have the same title. The same pay. The same lack of respect. I'm not scheduling nurses anymore, though. I'm scheduling inmates for dental appointments. Inmates can't come to me and bitch about why they're scheduled when. They can't make bizarre demands. (No, I can't just schedule you for four days this week. You have to check with your supervisor.)

The problem (and I always have a problem since I, apparently don't know how to be happy) is that I don't use my brain much. Scheduling the nurses, I was constantly solving minor and, too often, major problems. I was always creating alternate plans. When I presented a supervisor of the director of nursing with an idea I had to think though what I was saying to try to convince them that I was right. My job now is just me inputting information into the computer, scheduling guys to see my doctor, and double checking what I just did. It's boring and thoughtless.

It is less stressful, though.

Of course, I'm not really happy and I'm stuck in a small room that has no windows with a lady who's tired of all the bullshit she's had to put up with for the last four year but tries to put a positive spin on things and a lady who just hates her job and her life and is willing to share loudly and in detail. Our boss sticks her nose into everything, and she's nice and all, but she doesn't really know what she's talking about because she doesn't do the work on a daily basis. Sure, she had the basic training and looks at the program every day, but since she doesn't do the work she doesn't know or understand all the details. (I don't either, since I've only been there for four weeks, but I'm learning quickly because I spend most of my eight hour days doing the work.) I ran into this problem when I worked entering data up in North Bay. I don't expect the boss to know I the details of the work I'm doing, but I like it a lot better when the boss trusts his or her subordinates.

Oh, and to top all this off I'm still fucking living with my parents. In a room where the shelf space is taken up with other peoples' crap. And it's been over a year. [sarcasm]Joy![/sarcasm]

Why am I still living with my parents if I don't like it? Well, it all started about eleven-or-twelve-or-thirteen months ago when I decided that I hated the job I was in and had to get out ASAP. That's when my plan fell apart. My original plan was to stay with my parent no longer than the new year. But when I started looking for a new job I thought it logical to not get stuck with a lease when it was possible I'd be working somewhere an hour or more away. (I don't like to drive thirty minutes, why would I drive an hour?) I figured that I'd throw out applications, get a few interviews, and be moved along no later than June. Come June, no fucking interviews. I was still sending out applications, though, to jobs that would be a promotion and jobs at my current level, so by October, for sure!

During the summer I had one interview. It was hundreds of miles to the South and near-ish to the coast. It was a long interview. A good interview. I knew when I left, though, that I wasn't going to get it. They knew that I wanted to promote and this was a job at my current classification level in a city hundreds of miles from my family and the friends they assumed I had. In the end I didn't get it.

A month later, I interviewed, at my current level, for a secretary position for an AW where I work. About six weeks after that, I interviewed for another position at my current level where I work. Eventually, after another week I get offered the first position, I was their second choice, but would rather have the second one I interviewed for. I talked it over with some people and decided the second one was a better choice for me and made sure I was still in the running before declining the first. (I hope this is clear.) When I was finally, officially, offered the second position, I started pulling listings and looking for a clean, well lighted place of my own.

Then, the week before I started, I was asked to an interview up in Cowcity for a promotion. (Last week, which was 3 weeks after the interview, the guy said they still hadn't decided. I'm afraid that he's just a coward and won't tell me that I'm forever trapped where I am.) With the chance of a promotion to a city 100ish miles away, as the car drives, I really shouldn't be thinking of getting myself trapped into a lease. Two weeks after that interview I interviewed up at a prison in Far North Coast. Also for a promotion. (I didn't get that job, but they said that I was would be really good at doing it and should apply for the position again, somewhere else. Of course, there are only 35 positions like that in the whole fucking state and too many of them are in places that I ain't gonna move to.) This week I went and took a test in Cowcity for a different classification. It would be a little less money, but it would get in away from lay-offs and into a place where they do good work and I could show that I work hard and well and they should FUCKING promote me to a higher level.

Hence, I'm stuck in a room where there's a 10-year old computer my pop still uses to load his iPod with. (He won't sync it with his newer computer for some dumb-ass paranoid reason.) A room that has two giant, probably broken, speaker sitting on a half file cabinet. A room with piles of empty boxes because you just never know. A room where I have books and movies in boxes on the floor because the shelves are all taken up. A room that I am continuously told is "my room," but I can't use most of it.

And yet I haven't looked at any kind of place to move, locally, because there's some bullshit optimism in me that keeps telling me that I'll be out of here soon and on to somewhere different, maybe even better.

And so I wallow in myself and I don't do anything. I'm just so very tired, you know? Tired of trying. Tired of hoping. Tired of working. Tired of thinking. Tired. And not in that funny Madeline Kahn way, either.

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Childish Things

Taking a job with the state more than six years ago was probably a mistake. At the time it was a good idea because I needed to get away from 'Bucks. I needed to do something that helped me feel like a grown-up rather than the pathetic man-child I've always been.

I suppose, for a while, it worked. I woke up at the same time every morning. I wore shirts with buttons all the way down the front. I had weekends and holidays off. I made more money than I'd ever made before. Debt was paid. I was working in the grown-up world. No more scheduled by the week coming in at 4:30 AM one day and then working until 11:30 PM the next day.

I never really enjoyed myself though.

When I was a kid, I dreamed the usual dreams of the future. I imagined myself a firefighter single-handedly battling a blazing forest fire. I sat in the Oval Office bossing the army to sweep through the world bringing peace. I drove thousands of head of cattle across the country. I circled the globe over and over with in a boat/plane/submarine/tank hybrid with a martini in my hand. I flew to Mars and placed the first boot print in the ruddy soil. Like every kid, I didn't ever imagine myself working in a regular office pushing paper around. Of course, like so many people in the great ole You Ess of Ay that's where I ended up. (To be fair, my dreams changed as I got older to things that were more possible.)

And as that went on the dreams that could have been possible went away. Not totally away, but they seemed so unrealistic, so unsafe.

Working the normal grind is safe. You go in, do the shit you're told to do, you get paid. You get paid a consistent amount with each check. You know what's coming and you can plan where it's going. Safety is all a paper-pushing job offers, not satisfaction.

Here I sit, still not satisfied. Six years, six long fucking years, stuck in the same classification. Three years since I hit the top of the pay grade. Four-and-a-half years since I had an interview that could lead to a promotion.

Then I start thinking about the kinds of places that I'm likely to be promoted to: analyst, accountant, personnel specialist, paralegal, etc. Do I really want to be any of these things? They are all so far from the sort of things I imagined for myself.

Again, here I sit. I sit thinking about how much I hate where I am in my life. That's certainly something that I never dreamed about.

Monday, September 26, 2011

Where are the woods?

I suppose we should talk, Universe (or whatever).

On Friday, you made me, well, not quite happy because I haven't really been happy in a while, but you made me feel good. You gave me a job interview on Tuesday. Not just another interview at the same level, but an interview for a job that would be a promotion. I haven't had an interview like that for four or five years. I guess I was excited.

And that excitement led to a decent weekend of nothing. I watched the first season of Louis. I caught up on e-mail and my feed reader. I was generally lazy, but felt okay about it.

Sure, there were things that happened, things I was told, things that I thought that weren't so great, but I had an interview for a promotion on Tuesday.

Sunday night I couldn't get to sleep. My mind raced with thoughts that I'd rather not repeat. I didn't get to sleep until about four-and-a-half hours before I had to wake up for work on Monday. I had an interview on Tuesday for a promotion, though.

At work this morning I was told, without actually being told, that a nurse is being asked to resign and she will resign, leaving us another nurse short. Then I found out that half our clerical staff are out, but should have been told hours before I did find out. And then, forty minutes before, I got volunteered to take minutes at a meeting I've never been to before and don't know what they are looking for. (Let me put it this way, Universe (or whatever), at a staff meeting you just write down the crap people say. At this meeting they were actually expecting specific things to be taken down because they are important and could come up at a lawsuit.) And I was unhappy, but I kept thinking about that interview for a promotion.

But then, Universe (or whatever), I got an e-mail. And what did that e-mail say? It said that the interviews tomorrow were cancelled. My presence, Universe (or whatever), was neither required nor requested in Cow City.

And I still had the fucking meeting to go to so that I could take minutes.

Fuck you, Universe (or whatever). Fuck you.

Maybe we need some time apart.

Thursday, September 01, 2011

Once more unto...

Had an interview today. It was at the place I currently work for a job with the same title and pay as I have now. However I would be learning new things and one of the interviewers, the one in charge of all the clerical staff, said that if the right person were to be found on her staff she'd be aiming to train that person toward an analyst position she's hoping to have created soon.

I was able to curb my moodiness (I faked it, but I never maked it) for about forty minutes of interview. They laughed at the joke I made even before the interview and they set me at ease. I felt good about this one.

'Course my track record about feeling good about interviews has been quite poor.

Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Thank you, Internet.

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

It's nice to know I'm right.

*hugs*

ticknart

Tuesday, August 30, 2011

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

I just did the math, we really only have 20 slots for RNs where I work. That means the five missing nurses leaves us with only three-quarters our maximum staff. Still, if The Director would let the one guy move to first watch and the extra nurse on third watch was willing to cover one of the relief posts we would only really need one more RN to fill out the schedule.

Unfortunately, The Director seemed to tell me that she isn't willing to let the one nurse go to first watch. Not without meeting with the supervisors at least. That meeting probably won't happen for two, maybe three, weeks. The third watch nurse will have to volunteer after notice is posted about the open positions. Even if she volunteers we have to give everyone fifteen days to bid for the post as well.

In hindsight I shouldn't have been, but I was constantly surprised by the shock supervisors expressed when I told them that with the two RNs promoting we would have five open RN positions. Every one of them was amazed. The insist that they didn't know we were so short. Except several of them were involved with encouraging two nurses to "resign" in the past three months. Two "resigning" and two promoting is four add the other who transferred to a position in Cow City and we get five. Funny how that happens.

The worst thing, and I know it shouldn't be the worst thing, is having all these people telling me to be happy or to smile or blah fucking blah. I hear this all the time. They know I don't smile and I'm not happy because I have a job that I fucking hate, but it doesn't matter to them, and usually I'll make a joke. Today, though I didn't. When told to be happy or to smile I told them no, thanks, I'd rather not. I never stuck around long enough to learn of their reaction to my comment.

I know what my problem is. I can't seem to let go of my fucking job. EVER! If I could I wouldn't have had to write that post last night at 10:30 because I kept dwelling on the bullshit going on there. Even after writing it I stayed in bed staring at the ceiling for at least twenty more minutes. Oh, yeah. Sucks.

And now all I want to do is call in sick. Call in sick tomorrow and for the rest of my life. Or at least for the 350ish hours I have saved up. Fuck them all.

I miss being able to read and actually focus on what I'm reading. I miss being able to write bits of stories to clear thoughts out of my head. I miss hearing a joke from a person or the TV and having the good feeling that comes from laughing linger for a while; now the feeling is gone before I finish smiling.

Nobler?

The shit went down exactly like I thought it would. I left early because I just can't focus on anything right now except thinking about Shakespeare's "undiscovered country."

Monday, August 29, 2011

Office Politics and Fucking Bullshit

Been trying to sleep, but I should can't. Maybe writing this will help. I hope.

Where I work we have about 30 RNs on staff. Now to become a supervisor, you must first be an RN. So, guess where most of the supervisors come from. That's right.

Well, a couple of weeks ago interviews were held for two supervising nurse positions. Three people (only three) interviewed. All of them were from out staff. Our RN staff is currently short four positions. One of the positions is sick relief which is usually an extra nurse on second watch unless someone goes out for a long time. Another post is one that was made up by the asshole because he didn't actually want to think about where to put new RNs when they came to work for us, so it is an extra body second watch, too. Neither of these get filled behind because they are not critical posts. The other empty posts are relief positions, one first watch (from 10:00 PM to 6:00 AM) and the other is third watch (2:00 PM to 10:00 PM) and they are a bitch to fill, but it's been working out for the most part. And as fortune has it a new RN started about a month ago and she'll be slipping into that third watch post starting on the first. Also about a month ago, one of the RNs whose main focus is on paperwork volunteered to be moved into the first watch post; he's not been moved due to politics and fucking bullshit.

Back to the story: two supervisor posts and three RNs interviewing.

Today I was informed, although I think it was more a slip of the tongue on the new boss's part, that both of the supervisor positions will be filled. One will be filled by the nurse who was acting as a supervisor up through the end of July. The other will be filled by the nurse who is completing her training on Wednesday and was supposed to become the third watch relief. The other holds a post on second watch, but the second watch relief person is going to be moved into the newly vacated post. And while I haven't been given an official date I think it's safe to assume this will be happening on Thursday, the first of September.

All three relief positions will be empty.

We'll be down five RNs.

And I'll be the one expected to take care of all this.

How will I do that? Well, we have one nurse from a registry who's willing to do three or four shifts a week. We have a nurse on state salary who will come in for one shift a week second watch only on Saturdays or Sundays. So, let's say that's five shifts a week covered. Five out of fifteen. One third. Let's say that maybe five more will be filled by nurses volunteering for overtime. The other third, well, that'll be filled by forced overtime; making a nurse come in 8 hours early or stay 8 hours later.

And I'll be the one expected to take care of all this.

And that's why I can't sleep.

And horrible thoughts seem a lot more reasonable tonight.

Sunday, August 28, 2011

Eight Down, Five to go!

Out of this list, here are the movies I've seen:
  • Your Highness (Stoner movie set in a fantasy world. It kept me laughing)
  • Scream 4 (I thought it was great. If the series end here I'm cool. I hope they don't ruin it when they make the next.)
  • Thor (So much better than I expected. Is it science or magic? Who care?!)
  • Super 8 (Quite good, and so much more violent than E.T.)
  • Green Lantern (Committed the cardinal sin of superhero movies: it was boring. So many story telling mistakes!)
  • Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part II (Much better than Part I, but that fucking epilogue was there. Idiots.)
  • Captain America: The First Avenger (This was so much fun. I'm a little sad, though, that there can't be more set during WWII.)
  • Rise of the Planet of the Apes (Just watched this yesterday and it was most excellent.)

Friday, August 26, 2011

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

I've spent a very large portion of my time at work (15-20%) this week to going through the duties and minimum requirements for a shit load of state jobs because I'd really like to get a fucking promotion. The problem with a lot of the jobs is that I need just a little more schooling, classes in specific subjects, to be qualified. Just 6 semester units. That's all. Two classes. That can be done in one semester, if the classes aren't part of a series. There is, of course, a problem.

I don't know if I want to do the jobs.

Do I want to be an accountant? Do I want to be an actuary? Do I want to work in IT? Do I want to be a paralegal?

I know I can, with the proper schooling/training, do any of these jobs, but do I want to do them?

Every time I ask myself if I want to, the answer is "no." I don't want to balance budgets. I don't want to create tables about death. I don't want to fix other people's computers. I don't want to research case law and slog through legalese.

So, what the fuck do I want?

...

And there's the problem. I'm not sure what I want.

I'd like be somehow involved with the telling of stories, but I'm not moving to the shiny, sparkly circle of Hell (AKA the greater Los Angeles area) or to the other coast. I'm not a city dweller. I live in a city with lots of buildings over five stories and I feel like I'm getting crushed. I can feel the people just pushing in on me from everywhere. (I met with a friend recently. She lives down in the sparkly circle of hell, but in the nicer part, the norther part near the coast. She said that she living near the coast helped. She only feels like she's being crushed from three sides.) And I hate it.

So, choosing not to live in a huge city sort of gets rid of working in a lot of story generating situations, doesn't it?

What do I want to do?

I spoke with my mother yesterday. I mentioned that if I get hired at a job in Cowcity I'm pretty sure that I'd go back to school for my Master's Degree. I won't do an online course because I need to have the give and take that sitting in a classroom provides. Message boards are not as good for me. I'd like an MFA in creative writing, but I'd also be interested in studying theater or film. Oh, and I thought that if I choose to just get a Master's in English wouldn't it be interesting to write a thesis on Fan Fiction? I think it would.

Anyway, she suggested that maybe I sit down with her and my father and discuss me quitting my job and going to school full time at Turkey Tech. For a few seconds it was a very nice offer, but I don't want to live with my parents. The only reason I'm here right now is because I don't want to enter into a lease while I'm looking to get the fuck out of my job. (Although it's been nearly 11 grueling month of this shit. Fuck, that's depressing.) I said that I didn't think it was a good idea.

I'm just going to wait in increasing misery until I find another job and hope that I won't hate it so much that I can't focus on things. Once I can comfortably read a book (I haven't finished one since I read The Phantom Tollbooth in June, I think. Christ, I can't even remember what I may or may not have read. Shit.) that's when I'll be more ready to move on to more mentally intensive things.

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Radiolab Rules

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

Moments:


Symmetry:

Thursday, August 18, 2011

And the shit goes on...

Got another letter today telling me that I didn't get a job that I never interviewed for. To be fair, the letter was vague enough that I couldn't actually tell if they'd done any interviews at all.

It was a nice capper to a shitty day.

Thanks universe.

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

I've always been yucky!

I made sure to have dinner well and on the way to being completed by the time The Mother got back from work tonight: chicken was salted and sitting; rice and water was ready and waiting; and the macaroni (noodle? pasta?) salad was in the fridge so flavors could mingle. Today was her first day of school with students. It was rough.

Going to work every day to a job you hate, or are just tired of, or burnt out on is tough. I know because I do that, but the longest I've ever been away from my work was 16 days and it was painful to go back to my job. I don't want to imagine how hard it is for someone to go back after sixty days.

So, I was a good son and made dinner. I also cleaned up dinner. I also choose what we watched while eating dinner, but that was purely selfish. (Apollo from the new Battlestar Galactica co-starred in it.) I didn't mind doing it and I'm always willing to help make dinner, lunch, whatever (I like to cook), I hate being the decider for everyone. I hate it so much. I know it won't be expected of me, but I live in irrational fear.

Oh, "great" and "powerful" "mystical" forces of the "universe," help me to settle my job bullshit once and for all so I'm comfortable enough that I can sign a year long lease. I would appreciate it.

Also, to swing this post in a startlingly different direction, I'm trying to plan a trip to Oregon. At this moment I think a flight up there and a car rental for a weekish and extra stuffs would cost me about $1000. But I'd get to spend some time with those who moved to the hipster place and then head out to see sister-in-law and brother and their baby at there new place. And I could drag brother and niece, since SIL would probably be in school, to the cheese factory and the plane exhibit and generally goof around. I also want to visit other brother and other sister-in-law and use their proximity to go to the Paley Festival. Which to choose? Could I do both? Unfortunately, any plans have to be based around the job bullshit, so like February or March, if I'm lucky.

I've never been lucky, though.

Monday, August 15, 2011

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

A week-and-a-half ago I had an interview in Southern Wine Country. It seemed to go well. I mean we talked for about 40 minutes. That's good, right? Still there were some issues. They wondered why I had left my last job, five years long, to work in a prison. They sort of questioned how long I'd be willing to stick with them. And they really seemed confused about me driving 250ish miles (one way) for an interview.

Anyway, today I found out that I didn't get the job. The letter said that there were many excellent applicants and many exceptional interview (of which I was apparently one), but they chose another person.

I'm not really disappointed that I didn't get the job. I don't know if I would have taken it. It wouldn't have been a promotion and the chances for moving up would be just as small there as they were at my last job.

Oh, during the interview I also got the sense that the two people were trying to figure out what was wrong with me because I've been in the same classification for almost six years. I tried to explain it, but it may have come off as whiney.

At least I finally got an interview. Now if only one of the two dozen applications I sent to Cowcity would get me an interview. That would be nice.

When I told my parents about it my dad reached deep into the platitude bag and said, "Something better is coming for you." I reminded him that what I need right now is something different and then reminded him why. He doesn't seem to understand how awful my job is for me, or he chooses not to understand; sometimes I'm not sure which. I know in the past he's had at least one job that he hated and made him miserable and the only reason he kept it was because of his fledgling family (I was four and five at the time) and his desire to keep us clothed and fed. At that time he was lucky and found a job that was much better, but he probably would have taken just about anything that paid comparably. That's the way that I feel right now.

So, here's to hoping for more interviews, even if they don't get me a job because those interviews feel like moving forward even though it's really just spinning in a circle. Spinning in circles can be fun though, no matter what your age.

Also, today I got a huge compliment from my current boss. She said with a brain like mine I need should be able to just promote to the top of where ever I want to end up. She said she wished she had half the brain that I do. She said that even though she doesn't want me to leave she gives me her highest recommendation because she doesn't like the idea of someone like me barely treading water. I don't often feel good about myself anywhere, but especially at work and today I felt okay about being me.

Sunday, August 14, 2011

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

So, I've been sitting here trying to convince myself to write something. Not something for the blog, but fiction. A story.

Several weeks ago Queenie posted, "Have you ever had that feeling, the one where you tell everyone that your real ambition is to write, when really all you do is read what other people write?" and I keep thinking about it. I went through this six or so years ago.

I'm sure I've written about it before, but I stopped telling people that I want to be a writer a long time ago. A writer I am not. I do not write. There was a time there, almost two years ago, where I was writing something, that no one here would have read, almost every day. I was working myself up to writing something that I could maybe, possibly send off to someplace where they read the writing and mull it over and decide whether it might work for their publication, or not. Probably not. I was close, though.

I had started a story. I had written down the basic ideas. I'd created a very bear bones outline. (The beginning. A bit about the middle. A huge question mark for the end.) Then I left a job where I was comfortably miserable for a job that's so excruciating, for me, that I'm having trouble focusing enough to read. (It took me three weeks to read The Bourne Identity, and that's not a tough book. I've only read the first section of A Dance with Dragons and can't get any farther. I did, however, breeze through The Phantom Tollbooth, but that book is special.) I no longer even write for that site that I frequent and those were just stories based on a TV show that ended nearly a decade ago.

However, I have ideas.

Ideas are so easy for me. They just bloom and neurons fire and thoughts that seem random start to connect into something larger. If I'm good, I write them down so I'll have them for later. I'm rarely good.

Last week I figured out the beginning, middle, and end of a story idea I've been thinking about for a year. It's not meant for the general public. I've got it figured out, though. But I can't write it. When I try to start my stomach lurches and I'm overcome by a sense of nothingness. The idea is still there, in my head. I can see how it needs to get down in the the bits of the computer. I can't type though. I can't focus. My fingers just run across the keys, feeling them, but not pressing down. And I move off to something else: a funny cat video, or the television, or the darkness under the sheet and blankets. I still feel it pressing on my skull. It wants to get out, but when I tried to type it earlier, nothing. nothing

When I picked my parents from the train station on Friday my mother told me that my brother wants to make an illustrated story about a mythical American animal. She said he didn't want my help, though, because I wouldn't be interested in doing it. The truth is I would be interested. In fact I thought of a story for the animal yesterday, but when I went to e-mail my idea to him I typed two words then couldn't type anymore. Partly because I don't know if it's the sort of story he wants, but mostly because I just couldn't because even if he didn't like the story idea he can start moving in the right direction by knowing what he doesn't want to do. Hell, even when he reads this and says he'd like to know I don't know if I'd be able to type the answer to him. At this point, I don't even know if I could speak it to him.

Saturday, August 13, 2011

Nixon, FOUND!


My brother and sister-in-law sent a bag of agates back with my mother. I was sorting through it and found one with Richard Nixon's face on it. (He's on the left side of the rock. His nose and brow and angry, squinting eyes.)

Monday, August 08, 2011

A Mixed Blessing.

Pants that once did not need a belt now require a belt, even when the pockets are empty. Belts are just one more thing to get through when there is great urgency in the bathroom.

Saturday, July 30, 2011

Even Tim Gunn knows...

...you don't fuck too much with Superman's costume!

This is the second part of Alan Kistler speakhttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifing with Tim Gunn. Part 1 is abouthttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif Green Lantern. Gunn picks up on Guy Gardner's personality based on the clothes.

Wednesday, July 27, 2011

Fuck Off, World

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

Wednesday, July 20, 2011

Acoustal Tunes

For the first time, I left a comment on the Facebook. Twice, actually. A few minutes ago my mother came down the stairs (I just rolled my eyes at myself there. Shit.) and asked me if I'd be my grandmother's friend on Facebook. My answer was that I'd have to think about it for a few weeks.

See, my grandmother is one of the problems I have with the social media stuff. It's not that she's part of it because I think it's great she's part of it and enjoys commenting on stuff 'n such. The problem is that she friends everyone. You own a kind of a dog she likes? She'll friend you. You enjoy extra butter on your popcorn? Friend. You want to pay less taxes? Obviously friend material.

So, lots of friends that she shares so many interests with. So many.

Oh, and then she goes around bragging about how she's friends with a guy in India. Good friends, apparently, because they both like dogs.

That just bothers me.

I know that people who are more extroverted (like everyone) will have more friends than me, but it seems to me that the idea of what a friend is is losing its meaning.

Am I the only one who worries about that sort of thing? Words losing their meanings because we use them in vague, sort of similar way to what they originally meant?

What I'm trying to say is that if I just went out on a thing like Facebook and had a thousand or so friends that I didn't know, didn't write, even blocked their updates, what does it mean when I call someone I know and like and talk with a friend? Does it mean anything at all?

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

After the Death of Dobby

Saw Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, part 2 on Sunday. It was a lot better than part 1.

The things that bothered me bothered me when I read the book.

I don't understand why they tacked on that 19 years later thing. The best ending was when they faded out on Harry, Hermione, and Ron after the battle of Hogwarts. I hate the epilogue for so many reasons. Maybe I'll explain better at some time in the future.

The other thing that really pissed me off was that the Slytherins were locked in the fucking dungeon! The whole fucking series was about giving people the chance to do what's right. It insisted that people who were bad could be good. It believed in fucking redemption! And yet the Slytherins weren't even allowed to try to defend their school? Fuck that! (In the book, the Slytherins were just cowards and ran from the battle. That pissed me off.) So, they're all just evil. So much for redemption and trust and fellowship.

Something I liked was the creepiest hug in the world. Great moment.

Monday, July 11, 2011

"One loyal friend is worth ten thousand relatives."

---Euripides

I just added some people to my Facebook and disregarded a whole lot of others. I feel like I'm a dick.

Okay, I know I'm a dick, but this whole social media thing feels like it's built up of everyone just "friending" everyone who asks. I'm going to do my best to just massively limit myself. Most people won't care what I do anyway. Right?

Fuck. I hate so many things right now that go beyond the usual.

Sunday, July 10, 2011

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

---Rollo May

I got to work on Friday, pulled out the schedule binder, and took a close look at it. Everything looked good. All posts were filled through the next Saturday. With the exception of a few holes in the schedule, the rest of the month looked good. Nothing to much to worry about. The only thing I had to worry about on Friday was the suicide watch going on in back, and I couldn't take care of it until the guy was seen by a psychiatrist. I thought that if I got everything done, I'd be able to check out early. Why sit around doing nothing at work when I can sit around doing nothing somewhere I don't hate?

The day before, when I got back from work, there was a letter from one of the agencies I'd applied to. I mailed out the application on Tuesday, but I'd applied there several times in the weeks before. I immediately ripped the envelope open and read the short paragraph. Basically, it said that they are looking for the most qualified applicants and I am not going to be interviewed. When I checked my e-mail I had a nearly identical e-mail from a different agency. It's nice to know that after five year and ten months I'm still not qualified to promote. The worst thing was that one of the agencies that turned me down for an interview is a place that I actually believe in what they do. It's a place that even if I hate my job I'd be working on something that I think is good and right and helpful and important.

My mood was a force of darkness surrounding me because when people asked me how I was doing, I told them that I was upset and disappointed. Of course they asked me why and, against my normal operating procedure, I told them. All of them offered to help me in any way they could. How the fuck could they help me? They're not the ones who refuse to give me an interview. They don't have the power to call these agencies and insist they give me a chance. They can't help me! Sure, if I get an interview they'll give me a good recommendation, but it's unhelpful right now and doesn't make me feel better, just more frustrated.

Is it so wrong, oh bastard asshole force of the universe, for me to get an interview? If I'm going to fail, I'd like to fail on my own merits. Give me a fucking chance! Let me put on my long sleeved shirt and a tie with stripes and give it a shot. Let me try to get closed minded assholes to open up. Let me try to convince them that even though I'm a fat, piece-of-shit schlub I'm worth taking a chance on. And if I fail, at least I failed trying. And if it's wrong, jackass universe, why? Why? Just why?

At tenish, I called back to find out about the suicide watch. The guy was with the doctor. I called back after ten-thirty and the watch was on. I called people at home. I called nurse registries. I called people at the facility. I walked around and asked people in person to take a shift or two. I sat on my overblown ass and waited for four-and-a-half hours to hear from people. Out of nine shifts, I filled two. Both, fortunately on Friday. And I wasted a day at work bored. I sat and did nothing. I doodled. I read some fan-fic that I'd sent to myself a while ago and actually finished reading weeks ago. I did nothing.

And all this makes me want is something horrible.

One of the people I talked to tried to pull the bullshit, "This stuff happens for a reason." on me. I don't believe in that anymore, and I told her so. I'm so careful in my life, so guarded, that really bad shit doesn't happen to me. I don't let it. I don't allow myself to get into those kinds of positions. Unless one of my parents dies in the coming week and I'm here to help the other parent, then I don't see how me getting disappointed at failing a job interview warrants the fucking universe keeping me away from these interviews "for a reason." A vague, indefinable, pointless fucking reason.

And my weekend has been me in a funk. At least the new Harry Potter opens next weekend. That'll be two hours away from me and my bullshit and my worrying over things that I'm not quite comfortable writing about here.

God, I... I... Fuck.

Monday, June 27, 2011

Do you know what a "bronie" is?

Work, of course, was awful. I explained to at least six people why having the asshole gone doesn't make my job good. I explained like this: Having him leave is like having ten thorns removed, but there are still thousands of thorns poking.

The reason I think people are so focused on him and me is that he was a point that I could focus on and nearly everyone could understand what I was saying. When I get into the intricacies of what I actually do at that place, I lose people. They don't understand how complicated my job is.

Anyway, I spent the entire day working, except for the the ten minutes I took to eat my lunch too fast, and I didn't actually get anything finished. Well, maybe correcting all the mistakes people made when they tried to "help" me while I was gone. This whole week is going to be catchup.

*sigh*

Sunday, June 26, 2011

I don't think Facebook is a good fit.

So, Facebook. Yeah.

Since I rejoined a few months ago I have had over twenty "friend" requests from people. I have neither confirmed nor denied any of the requests. They just sit there, waiting for a decision. I need to decide exactly what kind of a dickhead I am. Am I the kind of dickhead who just denies the "friending" of everyone who I don't want as a "friend" (which includes grandparents, aunts, uncles, people from high school, alternates Facebook accounts of people, people who know people I know, cousins, old teachers, etc.) or do I "friend" everyone then block the updates from those I don't really know or care about, in a personal sense.

One person who I haven't added wrote me to ask if it's okay that he wanted to be my "friend" on Facebook because I sort of reacted poorly when he wanted to "friend" me on MySpace. I told him the truth, that for now my only "friends" on Facebook are my brothers, their significant others, and my mother.

Another person wrote, "Burn [ticknart] Burn..." after I didn't "friend" him. I wrote back, "Please, explain Facebook etiquette to me." He responded, "It's no big deal. I was just curious to see how you were doing. If you are using FB only for close friends, family, or any other group of people of which I am not a part, I'll understand perfectly. After all, I have most of the 'friends' on my list blocked."

Which leads to the second kind of dickhead, the one who blocks their "friends." I get the idea behind it. Who cares if someone whacked a bush and found a giant cherry? I don't, but even if I block people, they can still see everything that I put up there, if they want. And that disturbs me.

Do you suppose Facebook would allow levels for "friends" so you can control the content you allow people to see? I doubt it, but I'd be more likely to just "friend" everyone if I could.

Another thing about Facebook that disturbs me is how you lose control over your privacy.

I am now tagged in two photos. One shows me in profile, I think, and the other is my knee. I didn't ask to be tagged in these. The person who posted them put my name in. I suppose I could ask for the tags to be removed, but odds are good that someone else would see at least one of them and tag me again.

I think it's stupid, but it's a choice when my aunt decided to get on her phone everywhere and update where she was at every moment during my brother's wedding. She chose to give up that bit of privacy. When you're tagged by people in a photo, you have no choice.

That makes me uncomfortable.

Saturday, June 25, 2011

Saturday's Are Alright For What Now?

So, I've been in a pretty bad mood all day. I've barely gotten out of bed. In fact, I'm in bed as I type these pointless words. The day has been spent wasting time by playing a game and listening to musicals on YouTube. I relistened to A Very Potter Musical then A Very Potter Sequel followed by Me and My Dick and finally Musical: The Online Musical. I recommend all of them. I think I like Musical: The Online Musical because it's a metamusical. The others are just entertaining. If you watch the Potter sequel, keep your eye out for the scarf, my favorite part.

Anyway, even with the music, I've been in a crappy mood. Why? Why? Why? It's because I go back to work on Monday. I'll be at work in less than 35 hours. Shit. Fuck. And celery dammit.

So, I just got done with a conversation with my mother about my going to work on Monday. She told me that (here she apologized) I should think positive because the asshole is gone. To which I said it's not that great because he only made a job that I hate worse. She said that him being gone makes it better. I said sure, but it's gone from super-ultra-mega shitty to ultra-mega shitty; it's just a small change in degree. She said that's it's still better.

And with that I turn off the computer and go to bed, full of nightmares.

Friday, June 24, 2011

Blood From a Rock

In my continuing effort to prove how narcissistic and selfish I am:

My favorite thing about my vacation is that I have now fulfilled the quota of weddings that I am required to attend. Both of my brothers are married. I have no sisters. There are only cousins and (quite probably) an uncle left for weddings and while the outside guilt may come pouring in if I don't attend any of those, especially if they're local, I won't feel guilty. If the heartbreak happens and either of my brothers feels the need to get remarried in the future, I do not think I have to attend. I was there the first time, the second will depend on how well I've converted into a hermit.

Some may be wondering (And I feel confident writing that because for an unknown reason I have 36 "followers" according to my Blogger dashboard. I only recognize like four of the names and expect that most of the rest are just advertisers who expect me to "follow" them (HA!), but that leaves a few of you out there who hahttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifve not been reading this here blog for even a healthy portion of its seven year eight month and eightish day existence.), what about my wedding. Well, I still don't plan to ever have a wedding. I do not ever expect to meet someone and fall in love or a comfort zone with and then get married. I am not looking and if something like that comes along I'm sure I'll miss it. If I don't miss it, the fine. There are lots of possibilities. Just know that I am not keeping an open mind when it comes to myself and romance.

My great uncle asked my mom if the next of her boy's weddings could be closer to home so he wouldn't have to drive so far. (He's oldish.) When I heard that I wanted to go and reassure him that there wouldn't be another one, so he didn't have to worry. I didn't, though, I'm tired of explaining things like that to people who know me.

I keep getting it from this one woman at work. She said that she can't believe that I'm not taken. I asked why it's a surprise. She said that I'm so nice, some nice girl should have snagged me by now. I said that I've never really looked for anything like that. She suggested that she has some women I could meet, like her niece or cousin or something. Inside I was horrified because, as a one who judges others and expects to be judged in return, she a bit too much crazy Christan and too white trashy and this women she thinks would be good for me lives with her. Thanks, no. She asked me why not and I told that that even though I'm not the kind of person who plays around, I like just being with myself I don't need or want someone else to think about and worry about. Although that was only part of the answer, she seemed satisfied with it, but she still thinks that someone should snag me soon. With I sigh I was happy to leave that conversation.

I write all of that to tell this:

The brother who got married almost two years ago and his wife came down from Oregon and, of course, my niece was with them. She's just about eight months old and the brother and Sister in Law are really good about sharing her and she likes to be held. Now, I'm not the sort of person who asks to hold a baby. I do enjoy holding them, but I'm never going to ask. I will offer to hold the child if the parent seems to need a hand and I will gladly accept the child if offered, but I will not directly ask to hold it and I will never, ever, just snag it from someone's arms. I think out of everyone at the house for the week and a half I held the baby the least because of the way I am.

Part of it, I think is because I haven't really imagined myself ever as a father since early in high school. (Huh, that's half my life ago.) I am not a childfree person. I just don't expect to have kids. I have issues and I know I have issues and at this moment, and for half my life, I haven't wanted my problems to hurt a kid in any way.

There was a moment during the vacation, though...

The niece was handed off to me. She didn't squirm. She just rolled over into my shoulder, put one arm around my neck, and snuggled in. Everything in me seemed to stop working. If I had a heart it would have melted. And for those few seconds she snuggled, I thought that maybe having a kid wouldn't be such a bad thing.

The thought didn't last though, but it's a nice memory

Thursday, June 23, 2011

Have you heard the good news?

My cousin graduated from high school on the 2nd of June. I was the only one in my immediate family to go and sit and be bored and congratulate the kid and his parents and blah, blah, blah.

After the ceremony, I went to the house of my uncle and aunt for cake and chips and conversation and such. Eventually the subject of my youngest brother's wedding came up (it was last Saturday, for those with a score card) which the mutated into my uncle asking me about the program my brother is in.

Since I don't think I've written it down here before: my brother just completed his first year of medical school. Two or so years ago he earned his Master's degree in public health, which allowed him to travel to a few places in the world and see how crappy things are in other places. And although he wouldn't phrase it this way, he decided to become part of the solution. Hence, med school leading to tens of thousand in debt and a way for him to help educate people and solve some basic problems that too much of the world suffers from and too many people die from, like diarrhea.

So, my uncle and I talk about this for a bit and he asks me if I've ever considered doing something like what my brother is doing. I admit that yes, I've thought about it. He asks why I don't go in that direction. He says he knows I'm smart enough to do it if I want to and he thinks it'd be a good job. I agree with him that I could probably do it, but I won't. He asks why. I tell him that, in large part, it's because I'd have to deal with people around my space or in my face all day long and I don't really care for people. He looks around at the gathering thing and asks what I think this is. This, he says, has people. I give him a lopsided grin thing and nod, hoping that it show that I am uncomfortable being there. That I'm not there for my, but more for them. I think he gets it because he switches gears and asks me about writing. He says that he remembers me doing a thing with a blog and asks why I don't do writing. That's something I can do and don't have to deal with people, he says. I agree with him, but... He cuts me off with a but what. Just do it, he says. And I try to go into my explanation about how work leaves me mentally and emotionally exhausted so that when I'm done with the work day all my brain is good for is nothing he doesn't listen. He thinks I'm making excuses. Maybe I am. I've just been so worn out from work that I don't know anymore if it's actually work or if it's just me finding ways to be stuck. I don't admit it to him, though, because soon his wife jumps in about how it's important to have hobbies and I let the subject get changed. Of course that conversation has been with me for almost three weeks now.

Yesterday, there was news from work. Apparently my asshole boss has been let go. If I believed in a lord, I'd probably be thanking that being. My hope is that the person who is temporarily taking the asshole's place does not micromanage like he did. I hope she takes the time to listen and think before making a judgement. I hope she stands up for the nurses. I hope she does a good job and whoever they end up replacing the asshole with full time does a good job, too.

There is a problem with this, for me though, and it has to do with all the family around here who only hear my complaints about the man and not the actual work that I do. When my parents told me the news, they expected me to be ecstatic. They thought I'd be jumping around and suddenly be looking forward to going to work on Monday. What they failed to think about was the he only made an already wearying/worrying and hard job worse, the job is still going to be wearying and worrying and hard. I hopefully won't have someone peering over my shoulder making the job harder, but it's not going to get better, for me. If I was the kind of person who could just leave all the work bullshit at work, I would be fine, but I'm not. I've been gone from work for a week and a half and have had work related dreams almost every night. Why? Because my job is never done. No part of my job is actually complete until the shift has started then I can't worry about the current shift, but I still have to worry about the next shift and the next day and the next week and the next month. I see holes in the schedule that extend for weeks and months and I'm not allowed to do anything about them because of the limited number of people or the fucking contract or the possibility of someone being removed for training or so many hundreds of other variables. Oh, and now we're coming up on fire season and our prison trains crews to go out and help fight the fires and with them goes nurses which cuts into my fucking schedule and eliminates a body. Of course we don't hire seasonal employees to help if there are fires because, you know, that costs extra money even though it would fucking make sense and ensure that the quality of care at the actual facility stayed high. This prison is not near large cities. I doesn't have a large pool of registry nurses to pull from when we're short. Almost all of them have to drive in from more than an hour away when they do come in...

See, this is why I have the dreams. I should be able to get the hell over the damned place and not fucking worry, but I do. And I try to figure out how to make the shitty situation look a little better with some polish, but polished shit is still fucking shit.

Okay, I'm working myself up. I'm going to stop. I'm going to head upstairs and have some food. I'm going to go and watch Super 8 this afternoon and enjoy myself. I'm going to finish re-reading The Phantom Tollbooth and marvel at its brilliance.

I'll probably return tomorrow.

Be well.