Monday, February 27, 2006

Stoopid firemen

Gave me the flu.

Seriously. And they weren't even around. We were at a station on Friday that was basically empty. Everyone but those on shift (ie., recruits, and trainees) were sent home because of the flu. And now I have it. All weekend. Headache, bodyache, fever, icky throat...

Got to do some movie watching though. Saw a couple of really good ones. Peeping Tom, The 400 Blows, and Ordet were among the highlights. Plenty of Criterion Classics from the library for me to delve into.

We also watched the closing ceremonies yesterday on the Canadian TV channel. They showed it all live, rather than waiting for NBC to show it all very late at night.

What extreme, expensive silliness. The basic carnival premise was good. I liked that ok. But then they got all creative and whacky. Like they were French, or something, no? I understand the Fellini allegory, too- but some of this went a bit beyond Fedrico, and was firmly entrenched in odd.

There was some kind of allegorical development of heaven and hell going on. Angels sang. Then little devil children sang. Then a sinister man with what appeared to be a red tail played a fiery dragon harp. And the devil children gathered around him. Then pyrotechnics. Then some more stuff. Then came what I thought was the goofiest part- and I really didn't get the symbolism at all. There were 300+ brides who came out. I was expecting a possible mass ceremony, a la Rev. Moon. But no. They came out, some Italian pop star with a nasty tat makeuped out on her chest sang some Italian pop song, and the brides shuffeled into various shapes, kind of like a slow-moving and not horribly graceful Busby Berkely production (look him up on IMDB if you need to know). It was odd. Without the mass ceremony, I thought that maybe they represented the only virgins remaining in Turin. And that they were the spoils of war, so to speak, for the Olympians to enjoy later. Or maybe they were just getting married later that evening. Confused the hell out of me.

Then there were more things, and it was finally over. Even the Canadian commentators were getting a little overwhelmed by it all. One of them sighed, "look, there's more..." at one point.

Then they showed the skaters in their little production show after the games. I guess it's kind of a working audition for Stars on Ice. Nice. But kinda boring. I was feeling tired, and went to take a nap. Without Johnny Weir, I didn't care. I love him. He is wonderful. He uses words like, "princessy" whilst talking to the press. This makes me happy. He refuses to answer the gay question, stating, and rightfully so, that it doesn't matter to his skating career. I love him.

And now it's time to retire to the bed again. I have a lovely bio of Jean Harlow from the library to read if I feel like it. I like her. She was good. It's shaping up to be a pretty sad story, but interesting.

Thursday, February 23, 2006

Partly cloudy- with chance of sun

Things are looking up.

I got accepted to Penn State.

Now I need to decide if we want to move to Pennsylvania- what will Kenga do? Where will we live? etc.

It depends on the package that they offer. Haven't received the paper copy yet- just got an email this morning.

Also, 6 days of the job left. I'm keeping definate count this time. I think that we'll be done, and nothing will be left to count. And just in time too- my feet are beginning to feel the effects of hours on concrete, despite good shoes.

Monday, February 20, 2006

Well, we'll pick up and try again

Strike one at the empire.

Seems that in my 15 minute interview, the fellow at the empire decided that I lacked passion for the business. I'm not sure how he determined this, since it usually takes longer for me to check out at the grocery store than he spent interviewing me, but oh well.

I'm being put in for another position.

Guess I will be with the current job for the remainder of my 9 days.

Sunday, February 19, 2006

Getting the crap kicked out of me

From the inside out.

Something about the Ethiopian food last night was unsettling me pretty badly. So in the middle of the night, I was awake. And as is always the cast, things look very bad in the middle of the night. I was pondering the whole job/law school/ reality thing.

I am pretty convinced that I didn't get the job. It's just a feeling. Hopefully I'll find out tomorrow, and can then try for another one. There has to be more than one opening at the empire.

I got a letter from Seattle U that I'm on the waitlist for law school. Better than turned down cold, but that still might be the outcome. I'll have to see if there's anything that I can do to improve my chances. It's looking not so good, though. At least from the 3:00 AM sick tummy standpoint.

Went to coffee and donuts with Kenga this morning. It was nice. There was a homeless man outside bellowing for coffee. I gave him a couple of dollars. Mind you, all of my money is blood money in a way. I have worked my ass off for all of it. So it was a considered action. Why? Well, I think that he is having a worse day than I'll ever have. Hope he got his coffee. I had a pink, twirly donut. It was yummy. But my tummy hurts again, so it wasn't necessarily a good idea. Either that or it's a tumor. That's the mood of the day. Lucky Kenga. I'll just bury myself in some movies or something. Definately good sometimes to hibernate.

I am getting tired of the ass kicking that I am receiving though. The novelty has worn off. And now it's just getting to the point where I am wondering what kind of lesson I'm supposed to learn from it all. If there is actually a lesson to learn. Or if it's just the reality for the rest of my life. Also ran. Second best. B+ student. I contemplate that all with some amount of humor (oh- the self pity of it all...) but also with some amount of chagrin. Can't deny that it's been a rotten situation on many levels.

Gonna go watch some Lympics, I think. And try not to drown in my own sorrowful morass....poor me. To quote Nancy Kerrigan, "Why me???"

(apologize for the last part- it's pretty much a joke- I would never seriously quote Nancy Kerrigan. Never.)

Friday, February 17, 2006

Good with the bad

Well. I thought that I was over the whole crappy job thing. But it seems our contract has been extended another 2 weeks. ARRRRGGGGG!!!!!

Now we get to inventory the really difficult and specialty stuff. No more easy stuff for us. We're now pros. If I can keep the other two from killing eachother, it shouldn't be too horrible. But that will be an extreme challenge. I am hoping against hope that I will hear from the empire first, and be able to opt out. The inventory superiors know about the interview and possible jumping ship, so it isn't like I'll go to hell for abandoning the grand project. Then I can start re-growing the skin on my hands too. I scrape the hell out of them every day.

Now for something that I enjoyed. All week there has been a funny conversation on Slate about the Lympics. I thought that this paragraph was deeelightful.

Plushenko seems to split the difference with a Jekyll-and-Hyde approach. He looks quite comfortable making those huge spinning leaps, but then between his jumps he puts on an awkward "passion" mask and starts flitting his hands about, arching his back, and lowering his eyelids in rapture. It feels false and weirdly divorced from the world of sport. Imagine the half-pipe snowboarders pausing midway down their run, performing a series of half-assed, overwrought dance moves (replete with jazz hands), and then resuming their shredtastic tricks. This will never happen, with good reason.

This is why I love Slate. I want to work there. But they are in DC, and I don't want to live there. It just sums up the whole thing about figure skating that I think is particularly perplexing. Gay or not? You decide, because they just don't seem to be able to.

No news yet from the empire. The weekend approaches... I have Monday off, so maybe the call will come then...bated breath...(or is it merely belated breath?)

Thursday, February 16, 2006

How'd it go?

I dunno. Just dunno. Was very quick- I just can't interpret the whole thing. Didn't have enough face time to really figure much out.

I'm supposed to find out "quickly". Now how they interpret quickly and how I interpret it hopefully are similar.

Went to work for a half day. More drama. Got one of the team members getting uppity. She's decided that she wants to take me down a notch. Silly girl. Doesn't know that she's up against a pro. And that I can see her petty nonsense from miles away. She totally telegraphs her moves. And I can head them off with little effort, all while keeping the smile on my face, and being as friendly to her as I was the day we met. She blanket sprayed the area with petty, but it really didn't last long. Then she pouted the rest of the afternoon. And I was perfectly content to let her. You just can't please some people. That's all I'm sayin.

Tuesday, February 14, 2006

Too damned tired

Been too tired to write much lately. It got blasted cold here, and it even snowed a touch this morning.

Which sucks.

Anyhew- 3 more days.

The team is getting a little ragged around the edges- two don't like one of the other members, and I find myself trying to soothe hurt feelings. It's stupid for a fucking temp job. But I gotta figure, each of us is a temp for our own special reason. Mine is...I'm a loser, baby. So why don't you kill me....

Got an interview on Thursday at the big company over the lake. Think happy thoughts- it would be really, really good.

Been watching the Lympics in a desultory fashion in the evenings- basically cuz I'm too lazy to fish the remote from between the couch cushions and change it. Also, it's too much of a committment to watch a movie.

I have decided that I want to slap all figure skating commentators silly. Make them cry like babies. They are too bitchy. They are so full of venom that it kills the enjoyment of the event for me. Is it too much to ask to have commentators who offer information without the nasty sidebars of how inferior each competitor is to them? After all, I don't remember ever seeing the nasty Dick Button, or the evil wench commentator on skates. I have a suspicion that if they were in the rink, the current athletes would drop kick them in to shameful silence. Wish it could actually happen. I miss little Scotty Hamilton. He was usually so nice and positive, and forthcoming with the joy of the event.

I have a really hard time, though with the combo of sequins and athletics. It just seems kinda silly.

I dig the snowboarders though. Funny, silly lot. One of the girls had her ipod on while competing. Won a medal too. They seem like the kinda people to do jello shots with, then go out and play in the snow. Who cares if you get hurt? You won't feel a damned thing.

Ah then there are the speed skaters. And their cameltoes. There was speculationat work that the guy who won the 500m event is batting for the other team. Just something about the gestures. I dunno. All I know is that the bare ankles bother me. Don't they get cold as hell?

That's all I want to say for today. I'm gonna go turn on the tv and sit on the couch. And watch others be all athletic.

Wednesday, February 08, 2006

Time slips

7 more days.

Damn I'm tired. Legs hurt. Too much standing on concrete.

I didn't realize until today that the Olympics start this weekend. Don't really care, though. Haven't cared since I was little and the cold war made it all interesting.

Didn't realize until today that Valentine's Day is next week. Don't really care, though- bad associations with the day. I've been dumped 3 times, by 3 different guys on that day. There is a special hell reserved for a boy who dumps a girl on Valentine's Day. It's a very bad place. With evil squirrels and boiling hot chocolate.

Kenga knows it's just not a big deal for me though. More than anything, I just want to feel like I'm not about to drop over from being sleepy. I probably have Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. That's it. I'll say it's terminal. That's why I'm so bloody tired. Or I'm just not sleeping that well. Lately the kitties are deciding that it's fun to wake up earlier than normal. I think it has to do with the days getting longer. And me not being home in the day to keep them awake. So they start their hijinks in the bedroom around 5. Jumping on the bed- playing with stuff on the dresser.

Not much else going on- just counting days. 7.

Thursday, February 02, 2006

The revelation moment

We were discussing why I hate this job so very much last night. Kenga made the point that it pushes almost all of my buttons- no fixed location, no space of my own, early mornings, non-demanding-no- almost mindless work, etc. So I was thinking about that some more. And had one of those revelations that can probably only occur after years of expensive therapy.

When I was 20 I had a really crappy job. Makes this look like cake walk. I was cleaning the dorms at the university. What made it really nasty was that it wasn't just one cleaning per dorm. No- they function as a hotel during the summer months. The worst were the football players, followed very closely by a group of elderly bikers. Nasty. The bathrooms were just discouraging.

The particular issue that I ran into was that we were using lots of industrial cleaners and chemicals with no protection, either gloves or respirators. The shit ate through the gloves. So what was the point was the logic. After weeks of that, I developed bronchitis. I got better, but then a week later got another bout of bronchitis.

When I returned, the fat fucker who was my boss (drove around in his pickup everywhere, and looked like a walking heart attack- pox on his home) called me aside. He fired me, saying that it made no difference if I was there or not. I went to the room I was working on, and called my mom. I had never been fired before. I was crying. She said to get the hell out of there. Just stop. Leave the rest of the room for everyone else. She seemed pissed.

Knowing what I know now, I probably should've chalked up my illness to chemical exposure and filed a work comp claim. I was a young dumbass.

The whole experience reigns as my worst job ever. And it really hurt, to boot. So I think that this current job, at least the physical side of it, reminds me of that one. Thus I think I'm tapping into some of that memorial hardship. And I have to just push on through. It'll all be ok- and it's not rocket science. On a really good note- I do get to deal with really wonderful people, and I don't have to bring the work home. Ever.

11 more days.