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.

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.)

"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.

Radiolab Rules

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

Moments:


Symmetry:

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.)

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.

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.

Fuck Off, World

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

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?

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.

"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.

"...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.

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*

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'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.

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

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.

It's your fault!

You didn't watch when it was on TV!

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

NPR has posted the cast recording to The Book of Mormon, the Musical.

While I recommend you listen to the whole thing, if you won't here's where the individual songs are found. To get the best gist of the play, listen to "Hello!" then "All-American Prophet" followed by "Making Things Up Again" next "Joseph Smith American Moses" and finally move to 3:16 of "Tomorrow is a Latter Day" to finish the story.

"Hasa Diga Eebowai," "Spooky Mormon Hell Dream," and "I Believe" are pretty spectacular, too, but the first is purely funny and the other two are about a character rather than the mission he's on.

I really don't want to travel to New York, but I'd really like to watch this play.

Ka-BOOM!

A few years ago, I was taking medication for depression. I was on it for about six months. Then I quit. The explanation I gave was only part of the reason and since I can't sleep, due to thinking about it, I figured that two years off the meds was enough time to really be honest about it.

I've describes myself as fluctuating between a 2 and 6 on the "how you feelin'" scale. I figure I should better describe that scale:
1 -- Your brain is in total shut down. It's trapped in this dark loop that's no thoughts, just horrible, horrible feelings. You can't do anything that requires a little thought. You don't walk. You don't eat. You can't sleep. And you don't care if you piss yourself.
2 -- Your brain is trapped in a loop of darkness, but there's enough extra there so you can function on autopilot. You can use the toilet. You can eat. You can do your mindless bits at work. Hell, you can even drive. You can't, however, do anything that requires even a little critical thinking. Even something relatively simple, but that you don't do all the time, is impossible. Speaking with people is also very hard to do.
3 -- Now there's room in your brain for thinking along with all the darkness. You can pass yourself off as being in just a "bad mood," so people don't worry about you. You can lie to others, but not to yourself about what's going on in your head. The horrible things in your head seem possible to do.
4 -- A lot like 3, but you can see the stupidity in some of the things you thought about/are thinking about.
5 -- You don't give a shit either way, but there's still a weight on you shoulders or chest pushing you down.
6 -- The weight is gone, but you don't feel light. You have trouble empathizing with those who feel good, but it's easy to fall in with those who aren't.
7 -- You start to feel light. You feel the emotions of others and you start to want to share the way you feel with the world.
8 -- The world is rosy. Sure, you might see some problems and you can empathize with the guy whose dad just died, but it's not going to ruin your mood.
9 -- You feel pretty great and you can think critically about everything around you. You can learn. You can talk. You are probably the best version of you that you can be.
10 -- You feel really damn good. You function mostly on autopilot going around doing the things you normally do and knowing everything is right.

(I'm pretty sure there's a stage where you're so blissed out that you can't even function, but I doubt people can reach it without the help of some pretty heavy drugs.)

(Also, I realize that this system isn't the same for everyone. These are my numbers. I'm sorry about how short the higher numbers are, but it's been a long time since I've soared to any of those heights.)

When I was on my medication and it started to even me out, I stayed near a three or four. Those are the most dangerous numbers because you feel bad, but you can think and, during that time, you think you're thinking clearly about things.

To be more specific (and yet vague): The day I decided I had to get off that medication was the day I was going to buy a garden hose. I had it my arms and was carrying it to the cashier when I stopped and realized that maybe going for a drive out into the woods where it would be just me, my car, a full-ish tank of gas, and a garden hose wasn't such a smart idea for my family and friends.

When you are at a 2 for short or long periods of time, you think about garden hoses, among other things, but it's beyond your capacity to do anything about it. Garden hoses aren't something that you've used everyday, or even once a week, for years and years so while the thought might be there, you don't have the ability to use a garden hose, assuming that you have one.

Short forays into 3 and 4 also lead to thoughts about garden hoses, but you're not in that state of mind long enough to do anything with a garden hose. When you're evened out and spend ten, fifteen, thirty days at that level, garden hoses are all you think about and it seems like a good idea to buy one. Garden hoses seem like the best idea not just for you, but for everyone. And you convince yourself that everyone'll understand because you've been trapped in a dark place for a very long time. If they end up having a problem with it... well, fuck 'em.

And as tired as I was, "fuck 'em" just didn't seem like the correct answer.

So, I talked to my GP and the psychiatrist, at the time, and they bounced me back and forth for a couple of weeks, neither one wanting to put me on something different. I got tired of being what that med made me and convinced my GP to ween me off of it. I went back to being what I am without it and I started getting days back where the weight was lighter and my mind was more grayish than black.

la laa laaa

I am still around.
This morning there was
snow upon the ground.

Last week I saw Thor.
It was a bit of
fun, but not much more.

Just to have a look
I re-failed at life
and rejoined Facebook.

My five "friends" are
family, and for now
that's where I set the bar.

A Bit More About Glee

There's one more thing I wanted to mention about Glee that I forgot, and that's the role of music on the show.

One of the earliest complaints I remember reading about the music is that they didn't use original songs. DUH! Show choirs and glee clubs rarely, if ever, do original music. They take existing music and spin it into their own bit of incredible (or mediocrity). And now that Glee has done original songs I need to know how much people enjoyed them? Personally, with the exception of "Trouty Mouth," which was hilarious, and "My Headband," which was also just a joke, the songs didn't impress me.

The show tends to stick to arrangements of songs we've already heard. Sometimes that's disappointing, the Rocky Horror episode sticks out in my mind, but sometimes it's amazing, like when they did "She's Not There." And, of course, a lot of the mash-ups are great, I posted a link to my favorite, so far, in that other post which is the mash-up of "Don't Stand So Close to Me" and "Young Girl."

Now if Glee were really about a glee club training for shows, we would probably only hear a couple dozen songs rehearsed to death. Fortunately, this is TV and the songs are there to represent how music can underscore our emotions. It's probably safe to assume that nearly everyone has heard a song at just the right time that it seemed to be written about them. Here's a post with several songs that hit me that way and I know I've written about more songs, just don't want to look them up. They're the songs that you used to rewind on the cassette or lifting the arm of the record player for. Today we can just press the reverse button and listen over and over.

My favorite example of using a song to reflect the emotions of a character is "Landslide" from a few episodes ago. Watch Santana's face as she sings all the hurt and confusion and love and a little bit of anger. These are the moments that really make Glee worth watching and this is exactly how music should be used in a show about singing high school students.

Two Down

Watched Scream 4 a couple of weeks ago.

And it was so much fun to watch.

The third movie left a bad taste in my mouth. It was like ending the original cast movies with Star Trek V: The Final Frontier, just a mediocre movie. The fourth is much better ending.

Although, I'm sure if there's a fifth I'll be in the theater. I'm a sucker.

A Bit About Glee

I don't really like the show Glee, but I watch it.

During the first half of the first season, I was a champion of the show. (Not of the blog, so much, but when asked about it in real life. For a while it was my favorite show on TV.) It was about this group of kids trying to find a place to fit and even the place where they best fit wasn't comfortable for them. It was about the formation of a team coming together to work toward a difficult goal. And surrounding this theme were interesting characters, backstabbing, a cute and earnest OCD teacher, a psycho with a fake pregnancy, The Pink Dagger, and the always utterly fantastic Jane Lynch. Oh and lots of great songs. (These span the whole of the first season. Dammit.)

When the second half of the first season came around, something seemed to change. The music was still great, but the characters weren't right. They all seemed so much more over the top. And while that worked for Sue Sylvester, it didn't work so when for Artie or Tina or Brittany or Will. Stories also became about the topic of the week, not the characters. I kept watching, though, because of the songs. It's like horrible train wreck, death and destruction, gorgeous sunset, train wreck, death, amazing painting, train wreck.

After moving, I didn't watch much TV until my brother pointed me to the D&D episode of Community. That's when I went back to my unhealthy hate/love relationship with Glee. It still has all the same problems (although I've been pretty impressed with the Santana arc in the past few episodes), but I can ignore them more. Now I just watch it episode to episode and don't expect anything to really carry over from one episode to the next. I just enjoy what's there. It's become a lot easier to watch.

And that's why I keep watching, even though I'm pretty sure I hate most of the show.

It's Not Doing What You Love...

I dreamed again of a baby. This one involved me and it in a car, an old sedan I think, where the drive had jumped out shortly before I started dreaming. The baby never cried, they never do, but its breathing got deep and it made worry noises. (I don't know how I knew it, but it's my dream and I knew.) The car was going down a steep, curvy road. For a long time, I didn't move. Not because I was scared but because I knew that if I hopped into the driver's seat and took control then I'd be stuck. At first we were going slow enough and the road was banked well enough that the car stayed on the road. After several curves I grabbed onto the steering wheel. The car kept going faster though. I screamed at the road, "No, goddammit! I won't fucking drive!" After a very steep corner, I moved over, but I straddled the two seats. I was just far enough over to reach the break pedal. (Never noticed a parking break.) The whole time I was breaking and steer I yelled at the world, "Fuck you, you rock fucking whore! This isn't my fucking car!" I only slowed the car enough to make it around the turns, but some were close calls because at least one tire wasn't touching the ground a couple of times. When I finally woke, we were still barreling down the endless road swing from right to left to right trying not to go over the edge on one side or into the hill on the other, but there was no fucking way I was going to stop the car.

---

On a possibly related note, I've been reading everyone's blogs, but I haven't felt up to commenting. Haven't felt like commenting on comments either. (Hi there y'all!) At least I've been reading them. Except for yesterday, to remind myself that sometimes I write good (hur hur), I haven't visited that forum I've been known to frequent. When I did check it out yesterday I didn't read anything except for stuff to try to make myself feel better about myself. Not sure if it worked, but I don't want to get involved at the moment. 'Course that sets me behind and in a position where I have to catch up.

I've been contemplating joining Facebook. It sickens me to even think about it. Still, at least I could pretend that I'm part of the lives of people.

And now it's time for me to turn off the light, huddle under the covers, and hope that there are no more babies in my dreams.

'Night.

BAH!

So, my week was shitty.

How about yours?

Dreaming Little Dreams

In the last week, I have dreamed that I have dreamed of having a baby four times. None of them are my baby, and I'm not giving birth.

In three of the dreams, I have a baby with me. I know it's not mine. I think one of these babies may have been from a cousin. All of them had a huge scar, one on a leg, one an arm, and the third on its back. In all of these dreams, I already had the baby. I fed and bathed and changed them.

The dream I had last night was different. See, I was helping some friends with packing. When I went back the next day and all that was left was a baby in a car seat. When I tried to call my friends all I got was voice mail that said the kid was mine.

So, what does having a baby force on me mean?

Maybe it's better not to think about it.

During The Commercials

I am writing a blog post during the commercials of shows I am watching on Hulu. This isn't the first commercial, though. During the first commercials I just dicked around

That commercial break ended. Thirty seconds isn't much time to really write in. Hey! Maybe I should join Twitter! I'll twat during the commercials of Couger Town. (Yeah, that's what I was watching. It's

We are now onto Modern Family. Don't know how many show's I get in before I get too hungry. Maybe one more. Maybe, but there's no way to know. Hey, this commercial break is a minute! Wow! This would never make it as a twat. Maybe I shoul

Hulu is my brother's fault. He sent me a link to an episode of Community where they play Dungeons and Dragons. I already loved Community and then they played that game. Yeah, searches s

Okay, so this not letting myself complete thoughts when the show comes back on is annoying. I try to

The funny thing about the ABC shows, I think they're from the Sacramento station. There's the "News 10" logo in the lower left

Oh, Community why is your insanity so delightful. When did I know you were one of my favorite sit-coms on TV? Was it "Troy and Abed in the Morning"? Or Señor Chang the frog? Maybe it was "Heeeeere's brownies!" No it's "He was hor

I've been reading about introversion recently. It makes me wonder about my reactions to social situatio

This is the last commercial break before the end of the show. Then I will go and eat. This one is now hungry. 'Night.

Goodbye, Sarah Jane Smith

From DorkTower

I posted this over on What's Distracting Us? yesterday. Then went to watch the last disc of The Sarah Jane Adventures Series 2. The first story on that disc is "The Temptation of Sarah Jane Smith." I don't want give much away, but it ends with a people choosing to sacrifice themselves to save the world. I'm a sucker for those moments, especially when the characters actually die. My eyes got misty and my throat got lumpy.

I'm really glad that there's 3 stories for the fifth series. It's too bad there won't be more.

I think I'll put off watching Series 3 for a week or so.

The Book of Mormon, the Musical

First, I'm going to scream my head off, again, because I don't live in, or near, New York.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

Okay, now that that's out of my system there's an interview with Parker and Stone done by John Stewart on the front page of The Book of Mormon website.

Once again, I must curse the world and how far it put New York City away from California. Son of a bitch.

More Adventures in My Boss is an Asshole

Let’s start from where we left off, shall we?

To remind you, on Thursday I had e-mailed my boss to let him know that a change he made in the schedule would create a permanent hole on Saturday mornings and we’d probably have to use involuntary overtime to fill the hole nearly every week. I tried to be forceful, but with tact.

Friday morning I get to work and find this in my in-box: “I am very aware of this. This would last for three weeks.”

So, he actively knew he was fucking up the Saturday schedule. He knew. And he it didn’t bother him.

After reading his e-mail, I let out a serious string of fucking expletives, but moved on. We were doing some testing which required me to be away from my desk, and from the asshole, for several hours. I put the shit behind me and moved on with my day. Saturday morning, however, I realized that he didn’t include the new supervisor who’s in charge of staffing in this decision. First thing I did Monday morning was forward his e-mails to her, making sure that she’ll be involved in decisions involving the staff from now on.

Shortly after I forwarded the e-mail, the asshole walked into my office and I brought up the change he made to the schedule the week before. “We’ll just change her RDOs,” he said. (RDO means “regular day off,” FYI.) “She’s being assigned a new post,” I said “I don’t have the authority to change post orders. Do you?” He frowned and rubbed his hand all over his face and through his hair and scrunched his eyes and then said, “Well, you know, that, well, ah, see we’d need to meet and confer with the union steward. And, well, uh, well it’s, we’ll just leave her days off and deal with Saturdays as it comes up.”



I knew that he’d give the wrong answer. The correct answer would have been that the nurse needed to stay in her current post due to institutional need. Of course he hates to acknowledge when he’s made mistakes, so I didn’t expect him to fix the error.



Next I immediately brought up a nurse who’s been out sick a lot recently. I expected this nurse back on Monday based on information the asshole had given me last week. The nurse wasn’t here, though. I asked my boss about it. He reminded me that the nurse’s RDOs are Tuesday and Wednesday. I reminded him that last week he told me the nurse would be back this week and the week starts on Monday. But his RDOs, the asshole told me. Monday, I told him. He then turned to the supervisors, who I share an office with, and their dagger-like glares. He backed out the door and half heartedly apologized to me for not giving me the full scoop. I should expect the missing nurse on Thursday, unless we hear differently.



It wasn’t even eight in the morning and I’d already ruined his day. [sarcasm]Yippee.[/sarcasm]



But did it end there? Of course not. After his little visit, I explained to the two supervisors what both conversations with him were about. They got a bit riled. After going out and finishing phase 2 of the testing, the asshole found me in my office again and one of the supervisors said, “I hear we’ve got this hole every Saturday now.” He tried to slide around and back pedal and seemed to want to blame someone, but couldn’t. That conversation ended with the supervisor saying, “So, we have a hole in the schedule every Saturday, then?” He left after that.



Through the rest of the day, I worked to rile up the other supervisors who don’t share my office by sharing the news about Saturdays. I’m conflicted because I really wish I didn’t feel so good about trying to destroy what little confidence the supervisors might have left in him.



Which brings us to this morning.



One of the supervisors wasn’t here like she should have been when I came in. I was told that she headed home because she couldn’t find her keys. Her only hope was that she left the on the kitchen counter.



The asshole galumphs into my office around 7:45 and asks me if the supervisor ran out of here this morning. I didn’t like the half grin on his face. I told him that she wasn’t here when I came in, that she ran home. He asked if she was looking for her keys. I said yup. “Get her on the phone,” he commanded. “I have her keys.” I called and told her that he was with me and that he said he had her keys. She wanted to speak with him. I handed over the phone and heard him say that her keys were found yesterday afternoon in the bathroom.

He hung up the phone then told me, “A nurse found her keys in the bathroom last night. I told [another supervisor] that if [missing key supervisor] called to let her know I had them. Did [missing key supervisor] call last night?” I wanted to say FUCK NO, but shook my head instead. He nodded then said, “I’m heading to [the other yard], have [missing key supervisor] sit in my office and wait when she gets here.” He strolled out with an asshole’s grin on his face.

Now, maybe it’s just me. Maybe it’s because I’ve been sharing an office with the supervisor for 4 months now. Maybe my glasses have suddenly developed a rosy hue. If I were in charge and of this particular woman, I would recognize how hard she works and how much she takes everything to heart. I’d think about how hard she’s probably been on herself since she discovered her keys were missing. I’d know that she’d be really nasty to herself on her hour and a half drive home to look for the keys and how much she’d beat herself up as she drove another 90 minutes back to work. I think about all this and when I saw her, I’d sit her down and tell her that she made a mistake and ask her not to make it again. And that would be the end of it. (Actually, I would have ended it yesterday by calling her on her cell phone and letting her know that I had her keys and she didn’t need to worry when she came in morning.)

Yes, that’s what I would do. Of course the shit fucker I have for a boss isn’t that kind of a person. He’s going to lay it on thick to a woman who’s here five days a week doing her best to keep things running smoothly for the institution and the nurses.

What do I know, though? It’s only 9:15 in the morning and she’s not back, yet. Christ, I hope she doesn’t quit over this.

THE AFTERMATH!

Well, it didn't happen at all like I feared. [Missing key supervisor] went directly to him and even though he tried to make her feel guilty and horrible, she wouldn't let him. She told him how rude and unprofessional it was that he didn't tell her right away that he had her keys. She told him that he needs to stop meddling in the supervisors' programs and always include them in any decision making. Essentially she called him a fuck-up in a whole lot more words.

As for my scheduling problem, well, the new supervisor in charge of the schedule had a talk with him today. She ended their conversation by telling him that he was wrong not including her in a meeting about changing the schedule. She told him that we can't change the schedule unless we go through the proper procedure. And she told him that if he knew he was going to create a hole in the schedule then he's more retarded that the most retarded retard in the retarded world. (She didn't use those words, of course. She'd never say "retarded." She may have thrown the f-bomb around though. She does that on occasion.)

I guess that means everything turned out well-ish today. Of course the fucktard asshole is there until 5 tonight. I'm sure he can fuck something up between now and then.

One down, several to go.

Went and saw Your Highness this weekend.

It was an awful movie, but it kept me laughing, which was the whole point.

Basically the movie was Pineapple Express or Knocked Up or I Love You Man set in a Dungeons and Dragons type fantasy world.

(In fact, you can sort of look at it as a D&D game. One of the characters is a guy who takes great joy in playing the game. One is there just to hang out and bullshit with his friends. One is a newbie with a crappy pre-gen character. And one is a munchkin. (For more information read this.)

All this is an interest way to look at the movie, but I'm not going to do it.)

The movie's full of juvenile humor, but I knew what I was going in for and it makes me laugh. Occasionally the movie veered into the homophobe zone, but that's a staple of this genre and still funny, to me.

The effect, for the most part, were great. The villain was creepy and fun. The girls were gorgeous. And it made me laugh. It meet ever expectation I had.

I look forward to watching it on basic cable in the future and seeing how TV will cut around a lot of the jokes.

Movies I Must See This Year...

...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

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

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

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

Breakfast: Grilled Cheese

Dinner: Biscuits and Gravy

It's my day, dammit.

In The End

There’s a big blue box. It’s bigger on the inside than the outside. It can go anywhere in space and time, sometimes where it is supposed to go. Something will go wrong, and there’s some bloke called The Doctor who’ll make it all right because he’s awesome. Now sit down, shut up, and watch "Blink."

--Neil Gaiman

I got to WonderCon at 9:30AM yesterday. I wanted to make sure that I could get into the Dr. Who panel that started at 11:30. I thought two hours would be plenty of time. When I got there, there were at least 500 people already lined up. Let me tell you, there's not much out there like sitting in a room of 3500 people who really enjoy what they're seeing. Too bad there was only 45 minutes, I think the panel could have gone on for hours.

One thing that I got out of my time, this weekend, is how much I miss buying comics. I could order them online or have some shop mail comics to me, but I miss going into the shop. I miss picking up new books and flipping through the pages, admiring the art and skimming the story, to see if I want to buy it. The nearest shop is about an hour away and with gas prices what they are I'm not going there anytime soon. Still, I miss it.

Adventures in Anxiety

--or--
Do I function in real life?

So, tomorrow is David Willis's birthday and he's at WonderCon. Since I've been enjoying his work for the past seven years and it's his first time at this convention and it's his birthday, I bought him a birthday card. (It's a Batman: The Brave and the Bold card that plays the theme song when you push the button in the corner. I almost got one that had pictures of hamsters because it looked like he could have drawn the card, but there was no way to turn off the annoying song when the card is opened, and like I said I like the guy's work.)

I get the card. I take the card with me to the con. I sign the card and shove a few bucks in it (one for each year I've been reading his online stuff). I panic and decide I not to give it to him. I wander up and down the aisles and there's his table.

Then I reach into my backpack and pull out the card. I stop and start my way to through the crowd. I stand in front of his table and take a deep breath. I stammer and stutter out something about enjoying his work (I hope that's what I said), hand him the card, and say happy birthday. He thanks me for the card and I say your welcome. He asks me if I want a sketch.

My brain screams, "YES! YES! YES! Amber and Arthur, from The Tick awkwardly posing for a photo!" My stomach screams, "I'm going to barf! GET OUT OF HERE!" My mouth stutters, "N-no, thanks, b-but I really appreciate it." And I hurried away.

Now, for my own sanity, I have to assume that he's met weird fans before. Probably mostly people (let's face it, guys) who just hang around the table and want to talk and talk and talk. Transformers, the Walkyverse, whatever, but they don't go away and think that he's their friend and must be their friend because they're read his online comics. So, I can't be the only weird fan who's ever visited him, right? But how many panic and run?

Days like this make me surprised that I can get out of the house and function in the world.

Sitting in the Iron Throne

It wasn't as pokey as I thought it would be.

This was the first thing I did at WonderCon. I saw the booth and was drawn to it. They also had costumes from the show. Robert Baratheon's crown is shaped from antlers, which is spectacular because House Baratheon's sign is a crowned stag.

First thing I did, but second favorite part of WonderCon so far.

Favorite Moment

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?

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

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?

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

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

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

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

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"

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

Obsessive Song: "Walking In Los Angeles"

"I shot a man in Reno."

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

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.