It's long, so I don't expect everyone to read the whole thing, but I just took a look at this article over at Gizmodo.com about Circuit City employees, and found it actually a bit hard to get through.
The financiapocalypse is taking down many victims, from faceless corporations to the grunts with faces who work for them. Now, Target seems to be doing okay, better than Circuit City, but nothing is certain right now. And while I am glad I don't work in retail anymore, I found parts of this article resonating with me, with the part of me that does miss working there. Because with any job, your co-workers become your friends. And I spent four years working there, making friends. Sure, a lot of them were, like me, just passing through on their way to graduation, to other pursuits. But just as many of them have given a significant portion of their lives to working at Target, and will stay loyal because for all of the bitching and complaining we all did, it's a good company to work for (case in point, when my father-in-law had a heart attack, I called in and hadn't gotten much beyond "heart attack" before my HR person said, "Take as much time as you need, we can cover you. Go be with family." Or my uncle, who worked for corporate, and how wonderful they were with adoption assistance). And regardless, lifetime employee or summer job employee, they're friends. I spent a great deal of time with them. I miss them at times.
So keep that in mind as you troll the going-out-of-business sales for sweet deals. You might be getting a sweet deal, but the people who are helping you are getting a raw deal. They had very little to do with the company going under. And if they seem upset, surly, or whatever, just remember; they can see the writing on the wall. They don't imagine a pink slip is looming, they know it's coming down towards them. Once they sell the last digital camera, they're out of work. They sign up for unemployment benefits and wonder how to pay bills next month. Please, be nice to them. We could all stand to be nice to each other now, in the coming months, in the coming years, and from now on until forever.
Showing posts with label Work. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Work. Show all posts
Thursday, February 05, 2009
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Yeah, I Know...
But I've been very busy. Very busy. But there's a few things I'd like to talk about.
I don't know if I've mentioned this yet, but last fall we bought a ginormous television. Fifty inches. Plasma. Yes, HD. Of course, with it, we had to get more on top of things. Like our DVD player, for instance. Initiating technical babble. I had a standard DVD player with component video and composite audio running into the television. I was getting the best picture I could with what I had. But I wanted more. So, the other night, we bought a new DVD player. It's not an HD or BluRay, ut it's an upconverter. So it scales standard definition DVDs to near Hi-Def. And we got a good deal, too. It's a Sony. It's a 5 disc. But it didn't come with a remote or a manual because it was the floor model. But whatever, our TV remote works for it just fine. And of course, to get the best picture possible, I went with the HDMI cable. Yes. I am a nerd. I have already watched The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy in all its glory, plus the first twenty minutes or so of Revenge of the Sith. Very cool.
Pandora Internet Radio. Best thing ever. Click Here.
School is going um...okay. The thing is, that with school, mostly I like history classes outside of my major and minor, and I like the practical classes inside my major and minor. I'm not so much into the theory classes in my minor. But right now, the only class I like is my Media Literacy class. I mean, I like the people in my history class and my creative writing class, but the history class is like pulling teeth at times, and I think the professor in my creative writing class is a little...um...I don't know how to write it out. Imagine me making a noise and hand movement indicating that he may have recently lost his mind a bit.
And I found something about my job I'm NOT fond of. Jefferson County. Mostly, the searches I have been doing down there, which leave me tired and groggy and (no joke), in a small amount of pain because I barely get to sit down as I sift through 86 years' worth of musty deed indexes and microfilm. Musty deed indexes with some gaping holes in the records. Boo hiss.
Anyway...I should go to bed. Class in the morning. Work in the day. Class in the evening. Homework at night. Maybe sleep. Eventually. Maybe.
So last Wednesday, I had a surreal night. Remember Hugo's? Of course not. Jesse's older brother Matt used to work there (Jesse was my best friend in my pre-middle school days), and we used to go get free food. I went in there Wednesday night after class with some people from class. We talked, had some drinks, some of them smoked (and I got all stinky), and it was nice. We talked about things like music, literature and politics and professors (including the one that walked in around 9:15, and sat at the bar until after we had all left), and after-graduation plans (a diverse group, from sophomores up to second year seniors up to 25 year old juniors), and as I was talking with a friend with whom I have had a couple classes already, she up and said I sounded unhappy.
How's somebody gonna come right out and say that? I mean, even if it might be true, why would you bring it up? I mean, I wasn't going to say "And it's clear you want to jump Mark six ways from Sunday but you're too scared to say anything." No. Ridiculous.
Anyway...I was there, in this restaurant, scene of some of my youthful exploits (they used to have a cigarette machine...), and being told I'm unhappy by a person with whom I had been having a tremendous time with. Well, not that I was having a good time with just her, but the whole group. Anyway...not important I guess.
Really...I should go to bed. Now.
I don't know if I've mentioned this yet, but last fall we bought a ginormous television. Fifty inches. Plasma. Yes, HD. Of course, with it, we had to get more on top of things. Like our DVD player, for instance. Initiating technical babble. I had a standard DVD player with component video and composite audio running into the television. I was getting the best picture I could with what I had. But I wanted more. So, the other night, we bought a new DVD player. It's not an HD or BluRay, ut it's an upconverter. So it scales standard definition DVDs to near Hi-Def. And we got a good deal, too. It's a Sony. It's a 5 disc. But it didn't come with a remote or a manual because it was the floor model. But whatever, our TV remote works for it just fine. And of course, to get the best picture possible, I went with the HDMI cable. Yes. I am a nerd. I have already watched The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy in all its glory, plus the first twenty minutes or so of Revenge of the Sith. Very cool.
Pandora Internet Radio. Best thing ever. Click Here.
School is going um...okay. The thing is, that with school, mostly I like history classes outside of my major and minor, and I like the practical classes inside my major and minor. I'm not so much into the theory classes in my minor. But right now, the only class I like is my Media Literacy class. I mean, I like the people in my history class and my creative writing class, but the history class is like pulling teeth at times, and I think the professor in my creative writing class is a little...um...I don't know how to write it out. Imagine me making a noise and hand movement indicating that he may have recently lost his mind a bit.
And I found something about my job I'm NOT fond of. Jefferson County. Mostly, the searches I have been doing down there, which leave me tired and groggy and (no joke), in a small amount of pain because I barely get to sit down as I sift through 86 years' worth of musty deed indexes and microfilm. Musty deed indexes with some gaping holes in the records. Boo hiss.
Anyway...I should go to bed. Class in the morning. Work in the day. Class in the evening. Homework at night. Maybe sleep. Eventually. Maybe.
So last Wednesday, I had a surreal night. Remember Hugo's? Of course not. Jesse's older brother Matt used to work there (Jesse was my best friend in my pre-middle school days), and we used to go get free food. I went in there Wednesday night after class with some people from class. We talked, had some drinks, some of them smoked (and I got all stinky), and it was nice. We talked about things like music, literature and politics and professors (including the one that walked in around 9:15, and sat at the bar until after we had all left), and after-graduation plans (a diverse group, from sophomores up to second year seniors up to 25 year old juniors), and as I was talking with a friend with whom I have had a couple classes already, she up and said I sounded unhappy.
How's somebody gonna come right out and say that? I mean, even if it might be true, why would you bring it up? I mean, I wasn't going to say "And it's clear you want to jump Mark six ways from Sunday but you're too scared to say anything." No. Ridiculous.
Anyway...I was there, in this restaurant, scene of some of my youthful exploits (they used to have a cigarette machine...), and being told I'm unhappy by a person with whom I had been having a tremendous time with. Well, not that I was having a good time with just her, but the whole group. Anyway...not important I guess.
Really...I should go to bed. Now.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Being the Writer I Want to Be...
So I know on Monday's preview I promised politics but I changed my mind.
So, previously promised politics pardoned (that is called an alliteration), I will instead embark upon some musings about being a writer, and what it means to me when I tell people that I am a writer.
What happens in life a lot is that you meet somebody and they ask, "What do you do?" It's a kind of test to see if you have anything instantly interesting about you to spark further conversation. Such as:
Bob: What do you do?
Carlos: I'm an actor.
You see, this sparks a lot of conversation, because Bob wants to know a little more.
Bob: Oh? What have you been in? Anything I've seen?
Carlos: Do you watch Internet porn?
Bob: I thought you looked familiar.
Which, of course, brings up all sorts of further questions about Carlos and any number of questions about Bob.
When I used to get asked this question, it would often go like this:
New Person: What do you do, Elliot?
Me: I work at Target.
New Person: Oh. Sounds interesting.
And they would wander off in search of somebody else. Then, it became a minor detail in my life when I decided to relabel myself.
New Person: What do you do?
Me: I'm a writer.
New Person: Really? What have you written? Anything I would have read lately?
Me: Do you read Internet porn?
New Person: I thought your language patterns sounded familiar!
Me: I also work at Target, but that's not really how I define myself.
New Person: Oh, well, you have to pay the bills somehow.
Me: Yeah, true that. So what do you do?
New Person: I'm an actor...
See? See how much more conversation we got out of that? I would also mention that I am in school, which would further it even more from my end. It's not that I actually had any more to offer, I just pushed what's important in front of what's most stressful, which was, at the time, working at Target.
But nowadays, I no longer work at Target, and my job actually requires some explanation. And recently I have found myself responding differently to that question yet again.
New Person: So, what do you do, Elliot?
Me: I'm a Title Abstractor.
New Person: A what?
Me: Title Abstractor. I go to county offices around the area and research current and previous property owners for clients who are issuing title on a home or preparing a loan on a piece of property.
New Person: I thought your, um...something...was familiar.
Me: Oh, yeah, and I also write.
AH! It's getting pushed to the back again. And why? Well, I will tell you why.
You see, when I worked at Target, I was ashamed that I was as old as I was and working for (I will admit it) less than double-digits an hour. It was too much stress for too little cash. It was the kind of job that would have continued to suit me just fine until I got out of college and tried to enter the job market. If it had come to it, and I were to graduate and still be working at Target three months later with no job offers, I know I would have become severely mentally unbalanced. So it weighed heavy on my mind. To combat that, I forced myself to admit to the world that I am a writer first and foremost.
Nowadays, however, I like my job. This job is something I can see myself doing quite comfortably for several years. Don't get me wrong, I do want to get a job working for some sort of publication, eventually get my MFA in Creative Writing and become a writing teacher at a community college and finally get a tweed jacket with leather elbow patches. But it is not a job I will be ashamed to have come three months after graduation.
But it suddenly dawned on me that I still need to assert myself as a writer. Because a writer is what I am. I am a writer, despite what my blog's URL may proclaim. So, to be true to myself, let me say this:
From now on, when someone asks me what I do, the conversation will go like this:
New Person: And what do you do?
Me: I'm a writer.
New Person: Oh, cool. How's that working out for you?
Me: Well, it's tough to actually be the kind of writer who can pay the bills, you know, but I enjoy what I do.
New Person: Well, good for you, living the dream. But, uh, how do you pay your bills?
Me: I've got a day job, real estate property record research. It's enough of a challenge I don't get bored and it keeps food on the table and ink and paper in my printer. And what do you do?
New Person: I'm a literary agent. Have you written anything I would've read?
Me: Oh, well, probably not, but I may have some samples of my work...
At which point I will reach into my messenger bag and hand that person several sheaves of paper, a copy of Currents 2007, a beautiful head shot of me dressed as a tennis star, a DVD of "How to Write Flash Fiction" and a business card that says, "This is my card."
So, previously promised politics pardoned (that is called an alliteration), I will instead embark upon some musings about being a writer, and what it means to me when I tell people that I am a writer.
What happens in life a lot is that you meet somebody and they ask, "What do you do?" It's a kind of test to see if you have anything instantly interesting about you to spark further conversation. Such as:
Bob: What do you do?
Carlos: I'm an actor.
You see, this sparks a lot of conversation, because Bob wants to know a little more.
Bob: Oh? What have you been in? Anything I've seen?
Carlos: Do you watch Internet porn?
Bob: I thought you looked familiar.
Which, of course, brings up all sorts of further questions about Carlos and any number of questions about Bob.
When I used to get asked this question, it would often go like this:
New Person: What do you do, Elliot?
Me: I work at Target.
New Person: Oh. Sounds interesting.
And they would wander off in search of somebody else. Then, it became a minor detail in my life when I decided to relabel myself.
New Person: What do you do?
Me: I'm a writer.
New Person: Really? What have you written? Anything I would have read lately?
Me: Do you read Internet porn?
New Person: I thought your language patterns sounded familiar!
Me: I also work at Target, but that's not really how I define myself.
New Person: Oh, well, you have to pay the bills somehow.
Me: Yeah, true that. So what do you do?
New Person: I'm an actor...
See? See how much more conversation we got out of that? I would also mention that I am in school, which would further it even more from my end. It's not that I actually had any more to offer, I just pushed what's important in front of what's most stressful, which was, at the time, working at Target.
But nowadays, I no longer work at Target, and my job actually requires some explanation. And recently I have found myself responding differently to that question yet again.
New Person: So, what do you do, Elliot?
Me: I'm a Title Abstractor.
New Person: A what?
Me: Title Abstractor. I go to county offices around the area and research current and previous property owners for clients who are issuing title on a home or preparing a loan on a piece of property.
New Person: I thought your, um...something...was familiar.
Me: Oh, yeah, and I also write.
AH! It's getting pushed to the back again. And why? Well, I will tell you why.
You see, when I worked at Target, I was ashamed that I was as old as I was and working for (I will admit it) less than double-digits an hour. It was too much stress for too little cash. It was the kind of job that would have continued to suit me just fine until I got out of college and tried to enter the job market. If it had come to it, and I were to graduate and still be working at Target three months later with no job offers, I know I would have become severely mentally unbalanced. So it weighed heavy on my mind. To combat that, I forced myself to admit to the world that I am a writer first and foremost.
Nowadays, however, I like my job. This job is something I can see myself doing quite comfortably for several years. Don't get me wrong, I do want to get a job working for some sort of publication, eventually get my MFA in Creative Writing and become a writing teacher at a community college and finally get a tweed jacket with leather elbow patches. But it is not a job I will be ashamed to have come three months after graduation.
But it suddenly dawned on me that I still need to assert myself as a writer. Because a writer is what I am. I am a writer, despite what my blog's URL may proclaim. So, to be true to myself, let me say this:
From now on, when someone asks me what I do, the conversation will go like this:
New Person: And what do you do?
Me: I'm a writer.
New Person: Oh, cool. How's that working out for you?
Me: Well, it's tough to actually be the kind of writer who can pay the bills, you know, but I enjoy what I do.
New Person: Well, good for you, living the dream. But, uh, how do you pay your bills?
Me: I've got a day job, real estate property record research. It's enough of a challenge I don't get bored and it keeps food on the table and ink and paper in my printer. And what do you do?
New Person: I'm a literary agent. Have you written anything I would've read?
Me: Oh, well, probably not, but I may have some samples of my work...
At which point I will reach into my messenger bag and hand that person several sheaves of paper, a copy of Currents 2007, a beautiful head shot of me dressed as a tennis star, a DVD of "How to Write Flash Fiction" and a business card that says, "This is my card."
Friday, September 21, 2007
Work work work, work work work work, work work work work work. Oh, and school.
I have not fallen off the face of the Earth. I am just busy. All day with work and school, except for Friday when it's just work, and then the weekends when it's homework for school and spending time with Kathy, friends, family, softball, bike races (but it's the off season now), more homework, and other such stuff.
I warned you at the end of the summer, that my blogging would become scarce as the school year stepped up. And after fall break, I'll be doing CSO Tuesday nights (come to our concerts, I will post about them).
All that having been said, I need to write more for myself, while not letting up on the writing for school. I wrote some great stuff for school, but I don't want to post it yet, or some of it, at all.
I do need to go and pick up some more copies of Currents at Meramec. There have been some people asking for copies, and I find that I have either handed all of mine out or (as is the case with one copy I found recently) spilled coffee (tea? Coke?) on them.
I want more people to check out my blog, too, but I don't have much product to talk up at the moment.
Alright, I will make a concerted effort to blog more consistently. I can't promise a return to the bloggin' golden age of three months ago, but I can promise more than one update every week and a half.
I received word from the Three Day Novel Contest that they have my manuscript. Four months or so until they announce the winners. And while I know I produced a manuscript that was twice as long and at least ten times the quality of my 2004 offering, I wish they'd give me feedback very soon as opposed to never. I don't know. Anybody want to read it? Let me know, I'll, I don't know...pdf it somehow and e-mail it? I can't post it, that violates contest rules. Let me know if you want to read it, I'll try and get it to you. Should be easy for most people. No, I will not print it out and mail it to you, though. It's 101 pages. I already mailed it to Canada once, the last thing I need is to mail it to, oh, I don't know...just out of the blue, New Zealand or some place. Sorry to any of my readers in that part of the world.
Current score at school:
Webster University Eleventy Billion, Elliot 915.2 x 10^-i
Just a little math humor that I don't get but that should give one or two readers a chuckle. Oh wait, I don't think any of my calculus-joking friends read my blog. Hm.
Oh well.
Added a new poll to replace my appallingly stone-aged poll I paid little to no attention to.
I warned you at the end of the summer, that my blogging would become scarce as the school year stepped up. And after fall break, I'll be doing CSO Tuesday nights (come to our concerts, I will post about them).
All that having been said, I need to write more for myself, while not letting up on the writing for school. I wrote some great stuff for school, but I don't want to post it yet, or some of it, at all.
I do need to go and pick up some more copies of Currents at Meramec. There have been some people asking for copies, and I find that I have either handed all of mine out or (as is the case with one copy I found recently) spilled coffee (tea? Coke?) on them.
I want more people to check out my blog, too, but I don't have much product to talk up at the moment.
Alright, I will make a concerted effort to blog more consistently. I can't promise a return to the bloggin' golden age of three months ago, but I can promise more than one update every week and a half.
I received word from the Three Day Novel Contest that they have my manuscript. Four months or so until they announce the winners. And while I know I produced a manuscript that was twice as long and at least ten times the quality of my 2004 offering, I wish they'd give me feedback very soon as opposed to never. I don't know. Anybody want to read it? Let me know, I'll, I don't know...pdf it somehow and e-mail it? I can't post it, that violates contest rules. Let me know if you want to read it, I'll try and get it to you. Should be easy for most people. No, I will not print it out and mail it to you, though. It's 101 pages. I already mailed it to Canada once, the last thing I need is to mail it to, oh, I don't know...just out of the blue, New Zealand or some place. Sorry to any of my readers in that part of the world.
Current score at school:
Webster University Eleventy Billion, Elliot 915.2 x 10^-i
Just a little math humor that I don't get but that should give one or two readers a chuckle. Oh wait, I don't think any of my calculus-joking friends read my blog. Hm.
Oh well.
Added a new poll to replace my appallingly stone-aged poll I paid little to no attention to.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
School Week 1 Recap
Right folks, I was told to "brief it up" on my blog by one of my toughest blog critics out there. So, in the spirit of completely ignoring her (which is what I spent most of my teenage years doing so I have lots of practice), I am going to give you a play-by-play rundown of the first week of classes.
Monday started out fresh and bright at 5:30...pm. Well, no, not really, I mean, I got up, went to work, worked the day away, left work and bought all of my books, all $240 worth...pretty light when you consider all the textbooks a med student or a law student might have to buy, and actually considering I am an English major, shouldn't I relish in buying books? I suppose...anyway, bought them all, checked 'em down, and went to my Intro to Media Research class. Yikes.
My instructor started out by explaining that her background is in theatre. Yeah, no joke there. But, I thank her, because of the $240 I spent on books, not one penny was spent on a book for her class because she hasn't been able to find a book she likes. Yay! So, this class is basically an 8 week intensive pilot study on some sort of media of my choice...and I have no clue what to do or how to go about it. So far for the semester, College 1, Elliot 0.
Tuesday morning rolls around, I get a little bit of a lie-in, I guess. Class at 10, as opposed to the usual work at 9 (but it's still better than Target any day). We gather, it's a small class. It's my advanced playwriting class, and of all the people on the roster, there is only one with whom I have never had class, and only two that were not in my playwriting class last semester. John returned, Chelsea and Anne as well, plus Shannon, with whom I have had a class every semester since I started at Webster, and then the last person is Alan, who seems like a good fit with the group. Sadly, Pat didn't show up, so the score kinda evened out for the day, leaving College ahead, 2-1, but I still had work to go to, and after that...class with Sheila Hwang. Now, don't get me wrong, I actually really like her, so I didn't want that to sound like a terrible thing. It is not, not by a long shot. But it seems that once a semester, just like it is inevitable I will have a class with Shannon, it is inevitable I will be one of a very small number of men-if not the only man-in a class packed with women. Webster's English program is not very evenly distributed amongst men and women, and the men all pick lit classes like "Heroic Themes" and "Lit Into Film; Tinsel Town" and so forth. Not "Contemporary Multiethnic Literature of the United States." That just draws a crowd of women. Plus, the only other guy in this class is a guy who I worked on a project with last fall...a project that he got a worse grade on than our other group member and I (that other person happened to be Shannon...Ah! Small schools are so much better than the U of M (your experience may differ (especially if you were in a small program at the U of M (like design))), because he flaked out a lot. So...Webster 4, Elliot 1.
Wednesday was a mess...the third day in a row I am down at St. Louis City Hall trying to locate a deed to plug up a hole in this chain, plus I had to run to Madison Illinois first thing in the morning, about which the best thing I can say is that at 9:45, it is much easier to find a parking spot in downtown Edwardsville, but it's still fairly close to impossible to find a parking spot which should give you some indication of how my visits to Madison normally go. While that is not the game we are recapping, it's a good time to tell you that the score so far is Edwardsville 23,955,201, Elliot 17. So I took off from work finally, ran to my parents' house and grabbed a sammich for dinner, then over to campus, where the only parking spots I can find are way over by Pearson, and my photography class is all the way over in Sverdrup. Now, this is not a substantial hike, but in the heat, hauling a bag you're not quite sure what the contents thereof are, and you're cutting it close on the first night of class, it might as well be sixty miles uphill. Webster 5, Elliot 1. Get to the classroom, and it's ten degrees WARMER in this classroom. Webster 6, Elliot 1. But then...the teacher turns out to be a really cool French guy who talked about le tour with me a little bit. Nice, Webster 6, Elliot 2. Ah, but then the annoying freshman expert girl, as I will call her (reminiscent of "Poetry Award" girl from Fiction Writing at Meramec...) pipes up about how she loves photography and already knows everything and is only taking the intro class because they wouldn't let her sign up for the advanced one...mm. Hm. It's looking like a runaway win for Webster, they're on the verge of their seventh point when all of a sudden...I know more about things like shutter speed, and how depth of field can be controlled by aperture, and most importantly, how to use the Nikons we were looking at. Webster 6, Elliot 3, then Elliot 4! Yeah! But then, after class, as I am walking back to my car...my car is the ONLY CAR in the ENTIRE EAST PARKING LOT. Elliot 3, Webster 90.
You read that right, 90 points.
So, this morning I went back to my playwriting class, and still no sign of Pat. Fortunately, my monologue went over well, and John has not lost his touch over the summer, and it turns out Alan is a teriffic fit in the group, and Shannon's not doing too terrible herself. So, I left class for work with my head held proudly...it had been a solid win for Webster, but it's only the first week, and I think I held myself in pretty good standing in the face of significant adversity.
Final score for Fall Semester 2007 Week 1:
Webster 91
Elliot 6
"We've seen photo-shopped pictures of French President Nicolas Sarkozy with big love handles, and we've seen massive abs placed on Barack Obama, so what is next?"
"Dennis Kucinich in a Speedo with fantastic abs and a great tan."
"There's only so much photoshop can do, you realize."
-An actual conversation between my photo instructor and I.
Monday started out fresh and bright at 5:30...pm. Well, no, not really, I mean, I got up, went to work, worked the day away, left work and bought all of my books, all $240 worth...pretty light when you consider all the textbooks a med student or a law student might have to buy, and actually considering I am an English major, shouldn't I relish in buying books? I suppose...anyway, bought them all, checked 'em down, and went to my Intro to Media Research class. Yikes.
My instructor started out by explaining that her background is in theatre. Yeah, no joke there. But, I thank her, because of the $240 I spent on books, not one penny was spent on a book for her class because she hasn't been able to find a book she likes. Yay! So, this class is basically an 8 week intensive pilot study on some sort of media of my choice...and I have no clue what to do or how to go about it. So far for the semester, College 1, Elliot 0.
Tuesday morning rolls around, I get a little bit of a lie-in, I guess. Class at 10, as opposed to the usual work at 9 (but it's still better than Target any day). We gather, it's a small class. It's my advanced playwriting class, and of all the people on the roster, there is only one with whom I have never had class, and only two that were not in my playwriting class last semester. John returned, Chelsea and Anne as well, plus Shannon, with whom I have had a class every semester since I started at Webster, and then the last person is Alan, who seems like a good fit with the group. Sadly, Pat didn't show up, so the score kinda evened out for the day, leaving College ahead, 2-1, but I still had work to go to, and after that...class with Sheila Hwang. Now, don't get me wrong, I actually really like her, so I didn't want that to sound like a terrible thing. It is not, not by a long shot. But it seems that once a semester, just like it is inevitable I will have a class with Shannon, it is inevitable I will be one of a very small number of men-if not the only man-in a class packed with women. Webster's English program is not very evenly distributed amongst men and women, and the men all pick lit classes like "Heroic Themes" and "Lit Into Film; Tinsel Town" and so forth. Not "Contemporary Multiethnic Literature of the United States." That just draws a crowd of women. Plus, the only other guy in this class is a guy who I worked on a project with last fall...a project that he got a worse grade on than our other group member and I (that other person happened to be Shannon...Ah! Small schools are so much better than the U of M (your experience may differ (especially if you were in a small program at the U of M (like design))), because he flaked out a lot. So...Webster 4, Elliot 1.
Wednesday was a mess...the third day in a row I am down at St. Louis City Hall trying to locate a deed to plug up a hole in this chain, plus I had to run to Madison Illinois first thing in the morning, about which the best thing I can say is that at 9:45, it is much easier to find a parking spot in downtown Edwardsville, but it's still fairly close to impossible to find a parking spot which should give you some indication of how my visits to Madison normally go. While that is not the game we are recapping, it's a good time to tell you that the score so far is Edwardsville 23,955,201, Elliot 17. So I took off from work finally, ran to my parents' house and grabbed a sammich for dinner, then over to campus, where the only parking spots I can find are way over by Pearson, and my photography class is all the way over in Sverdrup. Now, this is not a substantial hike, but in the heat, hauling a bag you're not quite sure what the contents thereof are, and you're cutting it close on the first night of class, it might as well be sixty miles uphill. Webster 5, Elliot 1. Get to the classroom, and it's ten degrees WARMER in this classroom. Webster 6, Elliot 1. But then...the teacher turns out to be a really cool French guy who talked about le tour with me a little bit. Nice, Webster 6, Elliot 2. Ah, but then the annoying freshman expert girl, as I will call her (reminiscent of "Poetry Award" girl from Fiction Writing at Meramec...) pipes up about how she loves photography and already knows everything and is only taking the intro class because they wouldn't let her sign up for the advanced one...mm. Hm. It's looking like a runaway win for Webster, they're on the verge of their seventh point when all of a sudden...I know more about things like shutter speed, and how depth of field can be controlled by aperture, and most importantly, how to use the Nikons we were looking at. Webster 6, Elliot 3, then Elliot 4! Yeah! But then, after class, as I am walking back to my car...my car is the ONLY CAR in the ENTIRE EAST PARKING LOT. Elliot 3, Webster 90.
You read that right, 90 points.
So, this morning I went back to my playwriting class, and still no sign of Pat. Fortunately, my monologue went over well, and John has not lost his touch over the summer, and it turns out Alan is a teriffic fit in the group, and Shannon's not doing too terrible herself. So, I left class for work with my head held proudly...it had been a solid win for Webster, but it's only the first week, and I think I held myself in pretty good standing in the face of significant adversity.
Final score for Fall Semester 2007 Week 1:
Webster 91
Elliot 6
"We've seen photo-shopped pictures of French President Nicolas Sarkozy with big love handles, and we've seen massive abs placed on Barack Obama, so what is next?"
"Dennis Kucinich in a Speedo with fantastic abs and a great tan."
"There's only so much photoshop can do, you realize."
-An actual conversation between my photo instructor and I.
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Call For Ideas, and This Job Works For Me
Today, I went out on my own. As in, for my job, I was out and about without someone to watch over me. And it worked out well. I went to St. Louis City and did a search, then went to St. Louis County and did two more, and what's great is that the people who work in the office know me now because I've been in there a few times. Now that's normal, because I have to interact with them anyway, but it's sweet that people I interact with on my job who I don't actually work with know my name. And don't treat me like garbage.
Also, I went out to Lincoln County, to Troy, MO, to the courthouse to get copies out of a court case file. This is the other part of my job, the one that I will do as needed. This will help immensely, learning how to navigate my way around the local courts, in case I do someday land a job as a roving journalist.
Monday, I went out and bought grown up clothes. I wear khakis and polos to work at Target, but the pants are baggy cargo pants because they are slightly more comfortable to work in when you're lifting and whatnot, and the polos get kind of dirty. Also, as I took some freebie Target polos and the sizes they get tend to run a little big, they are mostly a little big for me. So, I went out and bought me some flat-front dress pants that are fit very well, some nicer socks and a couple polos that are very nice indeed. Kathy says I look more like a grownup in these clothes. So good for me, right?
I am absolutely signing up for the Three Day Novel this year. No two ways about it. I have been writing it up with the blog, I feel more ready than I did the last time around in 2004. And that's part of what the blog is about...giving me a reason to write as often as possible. Starting next week (not on the blog), I will be doing some creative exercises in my free time to flex my brain out a bit.
I'm going to go ahead and plug something here: Next Friday night, at Affton High School in Affton, MO, the Affton Community Band will be performing in the Auditorium. This isn't in itself that exciting, but what is exciting is that I will be playing Timpani. If that's not exciting enough for you, and you don't feel like coming and supporting me, then come and support my father. He wrote a piece of music for concert band last year, and he is close to getting it published. The last little bit that has to fall into place is a recording and a public performance by a real band. Music publishers will look at and evaluate an unpublished manuscript, and they will even listen to a .midi file if you've got it, but they won't publish until it's proven that a real band can play the piece. So, Friday, July 27th, 2007 in the Affton High School Auditorium, I think at 8 pm but it might be 7:30, the World Premiere of Gene P. Rauscher's composition Spirit Wind.
Alright. Sorry for the lax blog week, it's been hectic with something going on every night this week and friends coming in to visit tomorrow...but even with that being said, I am officially asking for your Free Write Friday suggestions. So, let me know what you've got in mind and I'll make my pick and it'll be fun. And...GO!
Also, I went out to Lincoln County, to Troy, MO, to the courthouse to get copies out of a court case file. This is the other part of my job, the one that I will do as needed. This will help immensely, learning how to navigate my way around the local courts, in case I do someday land a job as a roving journalist.
Monday, I went out and bought grown up clothes. I wear khakis and polos to work at Target, but the pants are baggy cargo pants because they are slightly more comfortable to work in when you're lifting and whatnot, and the polos get kind of dirty. Also, as I took some freebie Target polos and the sizes they get tend to run a little big, they are mostly a little big for me. So, I went out and bought me some flat-front dress pants that are fit very well, some nicer socks and a couple polos that are very nice indeed. Kathy says I look more like a grownup in these clothes. So good for me, right?
I am absolutely signing up for the Three Day Novel this year. No two ways about it. I have been writing it up with the blog, I feel more ready than I did the last time around in 2004. And that's part of what the blog is about...giving me a reason to write as often as possible. Starting next week (not on the blog), I will be doing some creative exercises in my free time to flex my brain out a bit.
I'm going to go ahead and plug something here: Next Friday night, at Affton High School in Affton, MO, the Affton Community Band will be performing in the Auditorium. This isn't in itself that exciting, but what is exciting is that I will be playing Timpani. If that's not exciting enough for you, and you don't feel like coming and supporting me, then come and support my father. He wrote a piece of music for concert band last year, and he is close to getting it published. The last little bit that has to fall into place is a recording and a public performance by a real band. Music publishers will look at and evaluate an unpublished manuscript, and they will even listen to a .midi file if you've got it, but they won't publish until it's proven that a real band can play the piece. So, Friday, July 27th, 2007 in the Affton High School Auditorium, I think at 8 pm but it might be 7:30, the World Premiere of Gene P. Rauscher's composition Spirit Wind.
Alright. Sorry for the lax blog week, it's been hectic with something going on every night this week and friends coming in to visit tomorrow...but even with that being said, I am officially asking for your Free Write Friday suggestions. So, let me know what you've got in mind and I'll make my pick and it'll be fun. And...GO!
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Tuesday Excerpts
This week's excerpt comes from a screenplay I have been working on since the summer of 2003. It has gone through several versions, and this excerpt is from the most recent, in which I have removed the specific music titles and done some dialogue clean-up. I now have to go through and relinquish my shot descriptions, as industry standards dictate shots are up to the director, the assistant directors, the photographic directors, and NOT the screenwriter unless you happen to be a well-established and respected screenwriter. Even then, it's tricky. But that's a project for another day.
===
from Theft is Property (working title) 2003-2007
COLIN (V.O.)
I'm not entirely sure how it all managed to spiral completely out of control in the particular way that it did. But, the fact remains, that it did in fact spiral completely out of control in a particularly terrifying way.
FADE IN:
INT BROOKE'S APARTMENT - MORNING
We hear soft piano music.
BROOKE is wearing jeans and a bra. COLIN is laying in bed looking at her. She is fixing her hair in her mirror. She reaches into a bag at her feet and picks up a black t-shirt.
COLIN (V.O.)
Brooke and I had been dating for two years, ever since we met at graduation. We both graduated from the journalism program at the University of Minnesota in Minneapolis, and because the school was so big, the first time we met was standing next to each other at graduation.
BROOKE
Can I borrow this shirt?
CUT TO:
EXT NORTHRUP AUDITORIUM ON U OF M CAMPUS - DAY
Pomp and Circumstance is playing.
Brooke stands in front of Colin. They are in a large group of people. They are dressed in robes. Colin's is open at the front, showing a black t-shirt with the IRON CHEF logo in red. Brooke turns to look at him and winces.
COLIN (V.O.)
It's what I was wearing when she met me.
BROOKE
Shouldn't you be taking some pride in graduating from college?
COLIN
Excuse me?
BROOKE
Every other guy here is wearing a nice shirt and a tie.
COLIN
And you are who, the graduation fashion police?
BROOKE
No, I just think you should be respectable, especially if you want to be taken seriously in this field.
COLIN
Well then, in all seriousness, it's a wonder I even got out of bed for this glorified cow-trot. I'll make sure to wave and smile at my parents. Or, maybe, since they're not here, you can point yours out and then I can borrow the video tape and mail it to Mom and Dad and the little brother who looks up to me. Who are you again?
BROOKE
Forget it.
Brooke turns back around and Colin has a good chuckle.
CUT TO:
INT COLIN'S OLD APARTMENT - NIGHT
Back to soft piano music.
Colin is getting dressed to go out when his phone rings. He picks it up.
COLIN
Hello?
INTERCUT BROOKE'S APARTMENT
Brooke speaks to Colin on the phone.
BROOKE
Hi, this is Brooke Fairman. I stood in front of you in line at graduation today.
COLIN
Who?
BROOKE
Brooke Fairman. Is this Colin Fairmount?
COLIN
Right, the girl who turned away when I was being exceedingly charming.
BROOKE
Listen...do you want to meet me somewhere for drinks?
BACK TO:
INT BROOKE'S APARTMENT - MORNING
Brooke is still holding the shirt. We see that it is the same IRON CHEF shirt.
COLIN (V.O.)
Two years go by, and there we were, practically living with each other in her apartment one month and mine the next, and things were going great. But that's not the issue. Pay attention here, this is important.
BROOKE
Please?
COLIN
Sure thing.
Brooke puts it on, then turns around to look into the mirror again.
BROOKE
Thanks Colin. Now, get up, or we'll be late.
Brooke opens a drawer and pulls out a sweater, which she puts on over the shirt.
COLIN (V.O.)
Did you see it? Here it is again.
REWIND EFFECT BACK TO:
INT BROOKE'S APARTMENT - MOMENTS EARLIER
Brooke is holding the shirt.
BROOKE
Please?
COLIN
Sure thing.
COLIN (V.O.) (CONT'D)
Okay, here it is, watch as she puts it on, then turns around.
BROOKE
Thanks, Colin. Now, get up, or we'll be late.
Colin describes the action.
COLIN (V.O.)
Okay, see this? She opens the drawer, pulls out the sweater I gave her for our first Valentine's Day, and puts it on. And freeze!
The frame freezes on Brooke pulling the bottom of the sweater down to the top of her jeans. The music stops.
COLIN (V.O.) (CONT'D)
There it is, the last time I ever saw that t-shirt. Coincidentally, it's the first time since I gave her the sweater that I ever saw it. The irony of this wouldn't hit me until much later. Like I said, I never saw that shirt again. But I saw her practically every day for the next six months after this. In fact, most of that time I spent at her apartment because I was living with my best friend James and she wouldn't stay there. So I was sleeping, eating, and living in extremely close proximity of this, my most valued shirt ever, and she tucked it away where I could never find it. It's not like I went snooping for it. I figured every day that she was more likely to wear it than the day before. When I sensed the doom of the relationship and I gave her back her favorite bracelet, I thought I'd get my favorite shirt back. I never did.
CUT TO:
INT COLIN'S APARTMENT - NIGHT
Start music again.
JAMES, ANGELA and Colin are going through some pictures. James picks one out of the stack and hides it so Colin won't look at it.
COLIN
What, James?
JAMES
Nothing.
COLIN
No, what. Angela, what?
James hands the picture to Angela behind his back. Angela looks at it.
ANGELA
Nothing, Colin.
Colin grabs for it and gets it.
CLOSE UP OF PICTURE
It is a picture of Brooke and TOM. She is wearing the infamous shirt.
COLIN (V.O.)
Okay, so this is the closest I ever came to seeing my shirt again. I vowed to get it back at that moment. I never thought it would end up with me here.
Fade music softer.
CUT TO:
INT DARK ROOM - DOESN'T MATTER
Colin is sitting behind a table, looking distressed and dressed in a wrinkled shirt, unshaven. He has probably just been woken up. There is a gun pressed to his temple. The gun is being held there by RAGS, a tough looking guy with scars on his face. Sitting across the table from Colin is FRAN, a fat balding man who is sweating profusely.
COLIN (V.O.)
This fat guy is Fran, a mob kingpin. And the guy with the gun is Rags. Fran tells me that Rags has a very itchy trigger finger. He told me not to make any sudden movements, as it might upset Rags.
Rags jams the gun into Colin's temple even more. Colin winces but doesn't move his head.
COLIN (V.O.) (CONT'D)
Really, this is Mike's fault. But, it wouldn't have been his fault if I had just done what everyone suggested in the first place.
BACK TO:
INT COLIN'S APARTMENT - NIGHT
James takes the picture back from Colin.
JAMES
We didn't want you to see that.
COLIN
Oh, please. I'm over her, you know that.
JAMES
Well, we just weren't sure.
COLIN
All I want is my damn shirt back.
JAMES
Why don't you just buy a new one? They still sell them through the website...
Angela nods in agreement.
COLIN
That's not the issue. I've got to get that shirt back.
BACK TO:
INT DARK ROOM -DOESN'T MATTER
COLIN (V.O.)
Rags was making me wish I had listened. Maybe if I just told him the whole story, he'd give me the same advice and I could go home.
COLIN (CONT'D)
Could I just--
(Rags jams the gun harder into Colin's temple)
COLIN (V.O.) (CONT'D)
Or, I could sit here and listen to Fran. But I'm getting ahead of myself here. I just want to set the record straight.
FADE TO BLACK
===
Just pretty much the introduction there, prior to the opening credits. Later, you actually meet Brooke, and the infamous Mike Colin mentions, and Tom, the boyfriend from the picture. And more of Fran, and some other people. I skipped over the very beginning, which introduces you to two more characters, one of whom gets shot and killed within the first minute. But I assure you, it's a comedy.
In addition to my Tuesday Excerpt, I would also like to announce that I got a call back from MasterFile and I got the job! I start next Tuesday with my training, then continue with it the following Tuesday, after which my Target schedule should be rearranged so I can work the full schedule at MasterFile. Yay! More money! Less boredom! More Freedom!
I've been a bad blogger, but I don't intend on apologizing because I have been a consistent blogger, which is a vast improvement over the past. Just check it; I've probably blogged more in the past month than I had in the year leading up to the past month. Just check. If this is not the case, then at least it's close.
More tomorrow, but just a head's up; I will not be soliciting suggestions for Free Write Fridays tomorrow, but I will be doing so on Thursday. Friends, you've been warned.
A writer is someone who can make a riddle out of an answer. -Karl Kraus
===
from Theft is Property (working title) 2003-2007
COLIN (V.O.)
I'm not entirely sure how it all managed to spiral completely out of control in the particular way that it did. But, the fact remains, that it did in fact spiral completely out of control in a particularly terrifying way.
FADE IN:
INT BROOKE'S APARTMENT - MORNING
We hear soft piano music.
BROOKE is wearing jeans and a bra. COLIN is laying in bed looking at her. She is fixing her hair in her mirror. She reaches into a bag at her feet and picks up a black t-shirt.
COLIN (V.O.)
Brooke and I had been dating for two years, ever since we met at graduation. We both graduated from the journalism program at the University of Minnesota in Minneapolis, and because the school was so big, the first time we met was standing next to each other at graduation.
BROOKE
Can I borrow this shirt?
CUT TO:
EXT NORTHRUP AUDITORIUM ON U OF M CAMPUS - DAY
Pomp and Circumstance is playing.
Brooke stands in front of Colin. They are in a large group of people. They are dressed in robes. Colin's is open at the front, showing a black t-shirt with the IRON CHEF logo in red. Brooke turns to look at him and winces.
COLIN (V.O.)
It's what I was wearing when she met me.
BROOKE
Shouldn't you be taking some pride in graduating from college?
COLIN
Excuse me?
BROOKE
Every other guy here is wearing a nice shirt and a tie.
COLIN
And you are who, the graduation fashion police?
BROOKE
No, I just think you should be respectable, especially if you want to be taken seriously in this field.
COLIN
Well then, in all seriousness, it's a wonder I even got out of bed for this glorified cow-trot. I'll make sure to wave and smile at my parents. Or, maybe, since they're not here, you can point yours out and then I can borrow the video tape and mail it to Mom and Dad and the little brother who looks up to me. Who are you again?
BROOKE
Forget it.
Brooke turns back around and Colin has a good chuckle.
CUT TO:
INT COLIN'S OLD APARTMENT - NIGHT
Back to soft piano music.
Colin is getting dressed to go out when his phone rings. He picks it up.
COLIN
Hello?
INTERCUT BROOKE'S APARTMENT
Brooke speaks to Colin on the phone.
BROOKE
Hi, this is Brooke Fairman. I stood in front of you in line at graduation today.
COLIN
Who?
BROOKE
Brooke Fairman. Is this Colin Fairmount?
COLIN
Right, the girl who turned away when I was being exceedingly charming.
BROOKE
Listen...do you want to meet me somewhere for drinks?
BACK TO:
INT BROOKE'S APARTMENT - MORNING
Brooke is still holding the shirt. We see that it is the same IRON CHEF shirt.
COLIN (V.O.)
Two years go by, and there we were, practically living with each other in her apartment one month and mine the next, and things were going great. But that's not the issue. Pay attention here, this is important.
BROOKE
Please?
COLIN
Sure thing.
Brooke puts it on, then turns around to look into the mirror again.
BROOKE
Thanks Colin. Now, get up, or we'll be late.
Brooke opens a drawer and pulls out a sweater, which she puts on over the shirt.
COLIN (V.O.)
Did you see it? Here it is again.
REWIND EFFECT BACK TO:
INT BROOKE'S APARTMENT - MOMENTS EARLIER
Brooke is holding the shirt.
BROOKE
Please?
COLIN
Sure thing.
COLIN (V.O.) (CONT'D)
Okay, here it is, watch as she puts it on, then turns around.
BROOKE
Thanks, Colin. Now, get up, or we'll be late.
Colin describes the action.
COLIN (V.O.)
Okay, see this? She opens the drawer, pulls out the sweater I gave her for our first Valentine's Day, and puts it on. And freeze!
The frame freezes on Brooke pulling the bottom of the sweater down to the top of her jeans. The music stops.
COLIN (V.O.) (CONT'D)
There it is, the last time I ever saw that t-shirt. Coincidentally, it's the first time since I gave her the sweater that I ever saw it. The irony of this wouldn't hit me until much later. Like I said, I never saw that shirt again. But I saw her practically every day for the next six months after this. In fact, most of that time I spent at her apartment because I was living with my best friend James and she wouldn't stay there. So I was sleeping, eating, and living in extremely close proximity of this, my most valued shirt ever, and she tucked it away where I could never find it. It's not like I went snooping for it. I figured every day that she was more likely to wear it than the day before. When I sensed the doom of the relationship and I gave her back her favorite bracelet, I thought I'd get my favorite shirt back. I never did.
CUT TO:
INT COLIN'S APARTMENT - NIGHT
Start music again.
JAMES, ANGELA and Colin are going through some pictures. James picks one out of the stack and hides it so Colin won't look at it.
COLIN
What, James?
JAMES
Nothing.
COLIN
No, what. Angela, what?
James hands the picture to Angela behind his back. Angela looks at it.
ANGELA
Nothing, Colin.
Colin grabs for it and gets it.
CLOSE UP OF PICTURE
It is a picture of Brooke and TOM. She is wearing the infamous shirt.
COLIN (V.O.)
Okay, so this is the closest I ever came to seeing my shirt again. I vowed to get it back at that moment. I never thought it would end up with me here.
Fade music softer.
CUT TO:
INT DARK ROOM - DOESN'T MATTER
Colin is sitting behind a table, looking distressed and dressed in a wrinkled shirt, unshaven. He has probably just been woken up. There is a gun pressed to his temple. The gun is being held there by RAGS, a tough looking guy with scars on his face. Sitting across the table from Colin is FRAN, a fat balding man who is sweating profusely.
COLIN (V.O.)
This fat guy is Fran, a mob kingpin. And the guy with the gun is Rags. Fran tells me that Rags has a very itchy trigger finger. He told me not to make any sudden movements, as it might upset Rags.
Rags jams the gun into Colin's temple even more. Colin winces but doesn't move his head.
COLIN (V.O.) (CONT'D)
Really, this is Mike's fault. But, it wouldn't have been his fault if I had just done what everyone suggested in the first place.
BACK TO:
INT COLIN'S APARTMENT - NIGHT
James takes the picture back from Colin.
JAMES
We didn't want you to see that.
COLIN
Oh, please. I'm over her, you know that.
JAMES
Well, we just weren't sure.
COLIN
All I want is my damn shirt back.
JAMES
Why don't you just buy a new one? They still sell them through the website...
Angela nods in agreement.
COLIN
That's not the issue. I've got to get that shirt back.
BACK TO:
INT DARK ROOM -DOESN'T MATTER
COLIN (V.O.)
Rags was making me wish I had listened. Maybe if I just told him the whole story, he'd give me the same advice and I could go home.
COLIN (CONT'D)
Could I just--
(Rags jams the gun harder into Colin's temple)
COLIN (V.O.) (CONT'D)
Or, I could sit here and listen to Fran. But I'm getting ahead of myself here. I just want to set the record straight.
FADE TO BLACK
===
Just pretty much the introduction there, prior to the opening credits. Later, you actually meet Brooke, and the infamous Mike Colin mentions, and Tom, the boyfriend from the picture. And more of Fran, and some other people. I skipped over the very beginning, which introduces you to two more characters, one of whom gets shot and killed within the first minute. But I assure you, it's a comedy.
In addition to my Tuesday Excerpt, I would also like to announce that I got a call back from MasterFile and I got the job! I start next Tuesday with my training, then continue with it the following Tuesday, after which my Target schedule should be rearranged so I can work the full schedule at MasterFile. Yay! More money! Less boredom! More Freedom!
I've been a bad blogger, but I don't intend on apologizing because I have been a consistent blogger, which is a vast improvement over the past. Just check it; I've probably blogged more in the past month than I had in the year leading up to the past month. Just check. If this is not the case, then at least it's close.
More tomorrow, but just a head's up; I will not be soliciting suggestions for Free Write Fridays tomorrow, but I will be doing so on Thursday. Friends, you've been warned.
A writer is someone who can make a riddle out of an answer. -Karl Kraus
Monday, June 04, 2007
Teach Him To Play Monopoly, Not to Sing In The Rain: or; I Run, I Run So Far Away, I Run, I Run Both Night And Day
So the second title for today's blog is the more pertinent to the topic, but I am currently listening to Thick As a Brick by Jethro Tull (not the Agricultural Revolutionary but the Flute Rock Band) and I knew my mother would be more apt to read this if she recognized the enigmatic lyric.
No, really, I ran. Yesterday, I mean. For those of you who have kept up with me (or have spent any amount of time with me at all), you know that I don't so much run as I Ride My Bicycle. But yesterday was a fluke (not to be confused with a flute, see Jethro Tull above).
I work overnight every other Saturday, superficially to set the ad signs but pragmatically to earn an extra dollar per hour for an 8+ hour shift. It's a trade-off...I can work for a dollar extra during a shift without people shopping in the store, but I have to stay up all night to do it. Anyway, so, worked overnight, came home and slept for a few hours, then finally Kathy got me up out of bed and out the door to do some shopping...you know, the boring, every day kind, the "Hey, I'm out of deoderant and razor blades and also I think we need a new furnace filter" variety of shopping. The standard kind of shopping that becomes routine when you settle down, get married, buy a house, and decide you can't go spend money on things like a new car or a dozen DVDs in one fell swoop.
When we were done shopping, we had almost two hours before dinner with my parents, a weekly Sunday tradition. So what did we do? Nap? Shave and make ourselves smell good? Nope. Kathy wanted to do something active, and I felt lethargic enough to agree, so we were going to go for a walk along Grant's Trail. Well, except, Kathy threw on her rollerblades. I do not have any of those, and putting the bike rack on my car would have been a lengthier process than normal because I haven't actually sized it to fit on the Jetta, especially since we bought those dozen movies last weekend and have spent all our free time watching those.
So, instead, I jumped into a pair of running shorts, white tee, and the closest thing to running shoes I have. And I ran a mile.
Today, I have a dull pain in my right shin, and my Osgood Schlatter's in my knees feels like it never went away...but other than that, hell, I ran a mile! You know when the last time I ran a mile was? 9th grade, when I did that four hour workout for the track team before going to New Orleans. And when I got to N'Awlins, I couldn't hardly walk around the French Quarter because my knees hurt so bad. That's when I found out I had Osgood Schlatters, and also just about the time I decided riding a bike was more my thing.
But the fact remains that I ran, and that is something those who have known me for a long time will find shocking. My bike, sitting in my garage collecting dust, while I am yet out doing something active. Wha?
Thanks to Melissa and Molly for their F.W.F. suggestions. I'll ask for new ones Wednesday or Thursday and I hope I just get more and more. This blog is actually starting to take off!
I should think of some unique way to sign off my blog every day. You know, like Edward Murrow's "Good Night, and Good Luck," or "From New York, I'm Tom Brokaw," or "Stay Tuned for Last Call With Carson Daly Bye Everybody BYE!"
Yeah. Something cool.
No, really, I ran. Yesterday, I mean. For those of you who have kept up with me (or have spent any amount of time with me at all), you know that I don't so much run as I Ride My Bicycle. But yesterday was a fluke (not to be confused with a flute, see Jethro Tull above).
I work overnight every other Saturday, superficially to set the ad signs but pragmatically to earn an extra dollar per hour for an 8+ hour shift. It's a trade-off...I can work for a dollar extra during a shift without people shopping in the store, but I have to stay up all night to do it. Anyway, so, worked overnight, came home and slept for a few hours, then finally Kathy got me up out of bed and out the door to do some shopping...you know, the boring, every day kind, the "Hey, I'm out of deoderant and razor blades and also I think we need a new furnace filter" variety of shopping. The standard kind of shopping that becomes routine when you settle down, get married, buy a house, and decide you can't go spend money on things like a new car or a dozen DVDs in one fell swoop.
When we were done shopping, we had almost two hours before dinner with my parents, a weekly Sunday tradition. So what did we do? Nap? Shave and make ourselves smell good? Nope. Kathy wanted to do something active, and I felt lethargic enough to agree, so we were going to go for a walk along Grant's Trail. Well, except, Kathy threw on her rollerblades. I do not have any of those, and putting the bike rack on my car would have been a lengthier process than normal because I haven't actually sized it to fit on the Jetta, especially since we bought those dozen movies last weekend and have spent all our free time watching those.
So, instead, I jumped into a pair of running shorts, white tee, and the closest thing to running shoes I have. And I ran a mile.
Today, I have a dull pain in my right shin, and my Osgood Schlatter's in my knees feels like it never went away...but other than that, hell, I ran a mile! You know when the last time I ran a mile was? 9th grade, when I did that four hour workout for the track team before going to New Orleans. And when I got to N'Awlins, I couldn't hardly walk around the French Quarter because my knees hurt so bad. That's when I found out I had Osgood Schlatters, and also just about the time I decided riding a bike was more my thing.
But the fact remains that I ran, and that is something those who have known me for a long time will find shocking. My bike, sitting in my garage collecting dust, while I am yet out doing something active. Wha?
Thanks to Melissa and Molly for their F.W.F. suggestions. I'll ask for new ones Wednesday or Thursday and I hope I just get more and more. This blog is actually starting to take off!
I should think of some unique way to sign off my blog every day. You know, like Edward Murrow's "Good Night, and Good Luck," or "From New York, I'm Tom Brokaw," or "Stay Tuned for Last Call With Carson Daly Bye Everybody BYE!"
Yeah. Something cool.
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
An Update on Some Things and a Preview of a Couple New Features!
Well, Friday I e-mailed the president of Master File St. Louis, which as far as I can tell is a legal document service based in Clayton. They need a person to do a bit of research and deliver court documents, and yesterday he e-mailed me back and today I sent him my resume. Check it out! I said I would look for a new job and I'm on it! Go me! Granted, I still have not gotten a new job, nor have I rode my bicycle once since that last [20] time[s] I said I would, but it's only been a [few dozen] week[s] so I don't feel too bad.
I feel just a little uneasy about having sent him an e-mail telling him how detail oriented I can be, then thirty seconds later having to send him another one because I forgot to attach my resume like I said I was going to. Oops. And yes, I am aware of how ironic that was, please stop pointing it out.
Alright, so, from now on I will announce on my blog when I start reading a new book I haven't read before, and the first weekend after I finish it, I will post a review. This is just a way of keeping myself reading as well as flexing my undeveloped and rusty journalism skills. Or, Skeelz, as some people call them. I still call them skills, though.
Another feature I would like to add, though I am not sure how this will work, is something I would like to call Free Write Fridays. I think what I'll do is at some time during the week, I will call for suggestions, and readers can post suggestions as comments on that post. Then, on Friday, I will select one of those suggestions and do a half hour to hour long freewrite right into the blog. We'll see how that works out. So, I'll go ahead and call for the first suggestions for Free Write Fridays!
Some guidelines:
Your suggestions should consist of three parts; type of writing, one character, and a situation. For instance:
Short story, Bob Jones, Lost his wedding ring.
...or...
Play, a UPS delivery man, a suburban hostage situation
...or...
Film script, BBQ master Bobby Slay, getting his ass handed to him by Iron Chef Japanese Masaharu Morimoto
Something along those lines. Okay. suggestion box is opened. And...GO!
I feel just a little uneasy about having sent him an e-mail telling him how detail oriented I can be, then thirty seconds later having to send him another one because I forgot to attach my resume like I said I was going to. Oops. And yes, I am aware of how ironic that was, please stop pointing it out.
Alright, so, from now on I will announce on my blog when I start reading a new book I haven't read before, and the first weekend after I finish it, I will post a review. This is just a way of keeping myself reading as well as flexing my undeveloped and rusty journalism skills. Or, Skeelz, as some people call them. I still call them skills, though.
Another feature I would like to add, though I am not sure how this will work, is something I would like to call Free Write Fridays. I think what I'll do is at some time during the week, I will call for suggestions, and readers can post suggestions as comments on that post. Then, on Friday, I will select one of those suggestions and do a half hour to hour long freewrite right into the blog. We'll see how that works out. So, I'll go ahead and call for the first suggestions for Free Write Fridays!
Some guidelines:
Your suggestions should consist of three parts; type of writing, one character, and a situation. For instance:
Short story, Bob Jones, Lost his wedding ring.
...or...
Play, a UPS delivery man, a suburban hostage situation
...or...
Film script, BBQ master Bobby Slay, getting his ass handed to him by Iron Chef Japanese Masaharu Morimoto
Something along those lines. Okay. suggestion box is opened. And...GO!
Sunday, May 20, 2007
Friday and Weekend Blog Combined...This Week Only.
I promise, I will be better about this.
I sort of ran out of time Friday, with Kari coming into town and Kathy being called back into work at 3, then going out to dinner/sightseeing and all. And then Saturday was all goofed up, because of Kari being here, the cat being a nuisance and working overnight, and today was no different, plus family dinner and celebrating Kevin's birthday a month and a half late. So, all I got is this little bit I sketched out and would have blogged overnight Saturday if I had had my computer with me at work (if there were such thing as a network to use there).
There was a time-and it doesn't feel that long ago, really, but it must be because it was before I graduated from high school and that was six years ago-when i could stay up all night. Well, let me put that in a different context, actually, because anybody can stay up all night if they just sleep all day. But that's cheating. I can still do that.
I'm thinking back to Fridays in January my senior year of high school. It's Basketball season, which is important to the story here. Prior to January of 2001, I had always gotten a ride to school with my dad. Since he had to get to work (he's a teacher in a different district) super early, and his school is a 20-40 minute drive from where I went, it was not uncommon for me to roll into school before 7 am. Amazingly, I got used to this, and often used this extra early time to catch up on reading or other homework (or going back to sleep against my locker). When my sister took an extended six month trip to Norway after the new year, she left me her car, so I could drive myself to school. Rather than taking advantage of this and sleeping in, I continued to wake up as early as 5 am to shower, eat watch the news with my dad and still leave the house at roughly the same time as he did.
So, even on a Friday, I would get to school at 6:45, almost an hour before the 7:40 bell. I'd make it through the morning in one piece, breeze through lunch and the afternoon (because I took SLACK OFF classes my senior year for sure), and take my girlfriend home, stopping on the way to pick up my paycheck from the Rep. I'd take the check to the bank, pick up some cash for the weekend, head home and eat a snack, maybe a dinner, only to be back up at school at 5:30 to set up for the pep band, of which I was the student director.
Basketball games would last until 8:30 or later, then it would be around 9 or so before the pep band equipment was all locked up. After that, it was off to Steak 'n Shake or some other such place for some food and ice cream, maybe some coffee. Then, I'd get in touch with Zach and the Penningtons, and the four of us would congregate somewhere and watch Iron Chef until one in the morning, followed by an hours-long N64 Goldeneye tournament which would only be broken when somebody realized the sun was about to come up in an hour or so. I'd run home, jump in the shower, eat some breakfast, and then high-tail it back to school where the Jazz Band was meeting up to take a three or four hour bus trip to a competition. This would usually afford me about an hour or so of restless bus-sleep, but you can't really call that sleep anyway. The competition would last until 5 in the evening, after which was another bus ride, again affording only minimal sleeping opportunities but, because it was the subdued ride home one was more likely to actually catch some sleep.
When the bus finally pulled up in front of the school, it would be a dash home, change into some more suitable clothes and right back out, usually to a late dinner in The Loop or a nice long stay at Coffee Cartel, followed by midnight Iron Chef and more Goldeneye, only this time we'd go home around 2 or 3. And finally sleep...only for me to have to wake up at 10 (at the latest) for the Matinee at the rep...during which it was either homework during the show or nap. And I always picked homework.
How did I do it? I was sitting in the office last night, working overnight setting up the ad, and I realized that even with sleeping until one o'clock on Saturday, it was only midnight and I was already crashing hard. What made me more energetic? Youth? Caffiene? Iron Chef/Goldeneye? Or did I just have a built-in filter that made me not feel so tired? Personally, I think it's probably got something to do with the fact that, at the time, I was non-stop with both the I-Gotta-Do-It stuff and the I-Wanna-Do-It stuff. I had a nice balance of work/school and social life. Unfortunately, now I have to balance work and school against each other, as opposed to grouping them on one end and counteracting it with a social life. I have a miniscule social life. Though, the past two weeks have not been so bad, in that since I am out of school that part is no longer a controlling influence, I might have time for a social life, or at least some semblance of one. Maybe that's the secret to longevity, and to limitless energy; you have to balance out activities that require energy with activities that have their own energy. Yes, that sounds like a good idea.
Comments? Thoughts? Let me know. And hey, if you want to hang out, let me know. I'll make some time for sure*.
*If you live in Boston, NYC, MN, New Zealand, or anywhere else that is not in the greater St. Louis metro vicinity, it may be hard to live up to this promise, so, offer strictly limited in those areas.
I sort of ran out of time Friday, with Kari coming into town and Kathy being called back into work at 3, then going out to dinner/sightseeing and all. And then Saturday was all goofed up, because of Kari being here, the cat being a nuisance and working overnight, and today was no different, plus family dinner and celebrating Kevin's birthday a month and a half late. So, all I got is this little bit I sketched out and would have blogged overnight Saturday if I had had my computer with me at work (if there were such thing as a network to use there).
There was a time-and it doesn't feel that long ago, really, but it must be because it was before I graduated from high school and that was six years ago-when i could stay up all night. Well, let me put that in a different context, actually, because anybody can stay up all night if they just sleep all day. But that's cheating. I can still do that.
I'm thinking back to Fridays in January my senior year of high school. It's Basketball season, which is important to the story here. Prior to January of 2001, I had always gotten a ride to school with my dad. Since he had to get to work (he's a teacher in a different district) super early, and his school is a 20-40 minute drive from where I went, it was not uncommon for me to roll into school before 7 am. Amazingly, I got used to this, and often used this extra early time to catch up on reading or other homework (or going back to sleep against my locker). When my sister took an extended six month trip to Norway after the new year, she left me her car, so I could drive myself to school. Rather than taking advantage of this and sleeping in, I continued to wake up as early as 5 am to shower, eat watch the news with my dad and still leave the house at roughly the same time as he did.
So, even on a Friday, I would get to school at 6:45, almost an hour before the 7:40 bell. I'd make it through the morning in one piece, breeze through lunch and the afternoon (because I took SLACK OFF classes my senior year for sure), and take my girlfriend home, stopping on the way to pick up my paycheck from the Rep. I'd take the check to the bank, pick up some cash for the weekend, head home and eat a snack, maybe a dinner, only to be back up at school at 5:30 to set up for the pep band, of which I was the student director.
Basketball games would last until 8:30 or later, then it would be around 9 or so before the pep band equipment was all locked up. After that, it was off to Steak 'n Shake or some other such place for some food and ice cream, maybe some coffee. Then, I'd get in touch with Zach and the Penningtons, and the four of us would congregate somewhere and watch Iron Chef until one in the morning, followed by an hours-long N64 Goldeneye tournament which would only be broken when somebody realized the sun was about to come up in an hour or so. I'd run home, jump in the shower, eat some breakfast, and then high-tail it back to school where the Jazz Band was meeting up to take a three or four hour bus trip to a competition. This would usually afford me about an hour or so of restless bus-sleep, but you can't really call that sleep anyway. The competition would last until 5 in the evening, after which was another bus ride, again affording only minimal sleeping opportunities but, because it was the subdued ride home one was more likely to actually catch some sleep.
When the bus finally pulled up in front of the school, it would be a dash home, change into some more suitable clothes and right back out, usually to a late dinner in The Loop or a nice long stay at Coffee Cartel, followed by midnight Iron Chef and more Goldeneye, only this time we'd go home around 2 or 3. And finally sleep...only for me to have to wake up at 10 (at the latest) for the Matinee at the rep...during which it was either homework during the show or nap. And I always picked homework.
How did I do it? I was sitting in the office last night, working overnight setting up the ad, and I realized that even with sleeping until one o'clock on Saturday, it was only midnight and I was already crashing hard. What made me more energetic? Youth? Caffiene? Iron Chef/Goldeneye? Or did I just have a built-in filter that made me not feel so tired? Personally, I think it's probably got something to do with the fact that, at the time, I was non-stop with both the I-Gotta-Do-It stuff and the I-Wanna-Do-It stuff. I had a nice balance of work/school and social life. Unfortunately, now I have to balance work and school against each other, as opposed to grouping them on one end and counteracting it with a social life. I have a miniscule social life. Though, the past two weeks have not been so bad, in that since I am out of school that part is no longer a controlling influence, I might have time for a social life, or at least some semblance of one. Maybe that's the secret to longevity, and to limitless energy; you have to balance out activities that require energy with activities that have their own energy. Yes, that sounds like a good idea.
Comments? Thoughts? Let me know. And hey, if you want to hang out, let me know. I'll make some time for sure*.
*If you live in Boston, NYC, MN, New Zealand, or anywhere else that is not in the greater St. Louis metro vicinity, it may be hard to live up to this promise, so, offer strictly limited in those areas.
Sunday, December 17, 2006
And...We're Back.
Sorry all, my computer went into the shop and when I got it back, it had been so long since I had logged in that my blogger password needed to be re-entered, and I couldn't remember it, and I was too busy with school to care enough to set it back up. So...I just got to it. Just now. Right now.
Let's see...I finished the semester, I have no idea what kind of grades I got except that I'm sure they're okay, although I'm afraid my group project might not have turned out well...I'm not sure that anybody turned in our analysis paper for A Streetcar Named Desire, but I did turn in the biography for Tennessee Williams. Hmm. But I know I got a good grade in my Human Rights class, and I already know I got an A in my Film Noir class and a B+ in math. Possibly a B of some kind in Modern Drama (thank my group project to counter-balance my final paper), but again, the group project grade for US Writers might bring me down a bit. Hopefully not, though.
Spent a weekend in Vegas. Did the usual Vegas things, you know, all-you-can-eat buffets, all-you-can-drink bars, fountain at the Bellagio, puked on Wayne Newton, won a fortune at the tables, got chased by gangsters, lost a fortune at the slots, married a floosie, and danced with the Chippendales on the Hoover Dam. Although, now that I come to think of it, that may have been a vodka-tonic induced dream.
I wrote a new play! It's short, needs a bit of work, but with the Surfacing deadline coming up, I should totally get on that and finish it. Plus, the Green Fuse deadline is coming up, so I need to either polish off an old story from Meramec or write something new...I guess, though, that I can either edit a play and a story or write a new story, and since I want to submit to both, I should focus on revisions.
For those of you unaware, Surfacing is the student written-directed-acted-in festival at Webster, and the Green Fuse is the student literary magazine. Oh, I forgot...I've also got a submission into Currents from last spring. Currents is the Meramec student literary magazine. I could be published twice and produced once in the same calender year! That would be awesome! Let's aim for that...although, all I can really do is submit, after that it's out of my hands.
Oh, speaking of things being out of my hands, I stepped down from my specialist position at Target. Most of this has to do with school scheduling, classes and workstudy you know, but part of it has to do with (to use Will Wilcox's famous New Year's 1997 quote) "large amounts of bullshit" that I have put up with recently, the most recent being the reaction of my executive team leader when I told her the news. She lacks tact. She lacks compassion. She lacks the capacity to be a decent person. Just for the record, it has nothing to do with me "bailing out" on my department or the store. Jerry will be leaving, and they need somebody to take over ad prep, and preferrably somebody who knows how to do it, so no, I am not bailing out on the store. I have offered my services to do the early morning return scans for the Entertainment department and help out with street date when it is needed, so I am not bailing out on my department. I feel awful that I am stepping down because Melissa will have trouble without me. It will be hard to train a new specialist, even if it is who we think it's going to be. I even offered to train my replacement. I feel a little bit like I am letting down Melissa, Cleo, my old ETL Katie who battled so hard for me, and Jackie and Shelly who always listened, and Jeff who I'm pretty sure wouldn't have let me step down a year ago when I was first thinking about it. But I think the only way to let my current ETL down would be to continue in my position. This way, it's like I'm playing into her hands.
Except that I'm not playing into her hands, I'm stepping down because my academic career depends on it. But try telling her that. She won't hear it because she doesn't listen to me, and never has. And that is one of the reasons I am stepping down. Not the main reason, but it certainly played a role.
So there we go.
Music to Blog By:
Christmas Music because it is December 17th after all.
Discussed in this post:
Let's see...I finished the semester, I have no idea what kind of grades I got except that I'm sure they're okay, although I'm afraid my group project might not have turned out well...I'm not sure that anybody turned in our analysis paper for A Streetcar Named Desire, but I did turn in the biography for Tennessee Williams. Hmm. But I know I got a good grade in my Human Rights class, and I already know I got an A in my Film Noir class and a B+ in math. Possibly a B of some kind in Modern Drama (thank my group project to counter-balance my final paper), but again, the group project grade for US Writers might bring me down a bit. Hopefully not, though.
Spent a weekend in Vegas. Did the usual Vegas things, you know, all-you-can-eat buffets, all-you-can-drink bars, fountain at the Bellagio, puked on Wayne Newton, won a fortune at the tables, got chased by gangsters, lost a fortune at the slots, married a floosie, and danced with the Chippendales on the Hoover Dam. Although, now that I come to think of it, that may have been a vodka-tonic induced dream.
I wrote a new play! It's short, needs a bit of work, but with the Surfacing deadline coming up, I should totally get on that and finish it. Plus, the Green Fuse deadline is coming up, so I need to either polish off an old story from Meramec or write something new...I guess, though, that I can either edit a play and a story or write a new story, and since I want to submit to both, I should focus on revisions.
For those of you unaware, Surfacing is the student written-directed-acted-in festival at Webster, and the Green Fuse is the student literary magazine. Oh, I forgot...I've also got a submission into Currents from last spring. Currents is the Meramec student literary magazine. I could be published twice and produced once in the same calender year! That would be awesome! Let's aim for that...although, all I can really do is submit, after that it's out of my hands.
Oh, speaking of things being out of my hands, I stepped down from my specialist position at Target. Most of this has to do with school scheduling, classes and workstudy you know, but part of it has to do with (to use Will Wilcox's famous New Year's 1997 quote) "large amounts of bullshit" that I have put up with recently, the most recent being the reaction of my executive team leader when I told her the news. She lacks tact. She lacks compassion. She lacks the capacity to be a decent person. Just for the record, it has nothing to do with me "bailing out" on my department or the store. Jerry will be leaving, and they need somebody to take over ad prep, and preferrably somebody who knows how to do it, so no, I am not bailing out on the store. I have offered my services to do the early morning return scans for the Entertainment department and help out with street date when it is needed, so I am not bailing out on my department. I feel awful that I am stepping down because Melissa will have trouble without me. It will be hard to train a new specialist, even if it is who we think it's going to be. I even offered to train my replacement. I feel a little bit like I am letting down Melissa, Cleo, my old ETL Katie who battled so hard for me, and Jackie and Shelly who always listened, and Jeff who I'm pretty sure wouldn't have let me step down a year ago when I was first thinking about it. But I think the only way to let my current ETL down would be to continue in my position. This way, it's like I'm playing into her hands.
Except that I'm not playing into her hands, I'm stepping down because my academic career depends on it. But try telling her that. She won't hear it because she doesn't listen to me, and never has. And that is one of the reasons I am stepping down. Not the main reason, but it certainly played a role.
So there we go.
Music to Blog By:
Christmas Music because it is December 17th after all.
Discussed in this post:
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Thursday, April 27, 2006
An out-of-topic Rant...
...then I promise, right back to writing.
Obligations are obligations, let's be clear on that. Yes, it is nice to have the exact same schedule every week, because it's predictable, and even those of us who adore a last-minute change of plans--say, taking off to the Bahamas instead of spending the weekend doing yardwork--like our lives to be, for the most part, ordered and predictable. But, obligations are obligations, and you are obliged, as a human being who works to earn money to survive, to check and make sure that the status quo for this week has not experienced any changes. What am I driving at here? I'll tell you.
Check your work schedule, Robb.
I haven't slept in a day and a half. With my fiction portfolio due on Tuesday (with complete revisions on "How to Write a Three Day Novel," "Look At How Ugly the Stars Are," "Kissing Girls, Here and There," and a completely new, never-before-seen story (which I haven't started, really, because every time I start I get stuck and revise "Kissing" some more, a long process I won't bore you with details of at the moment), the refinance on the house, the ever-worsening bath tub caulk fiasco, and (of course) the 4 am to 12:30 pm entertainment scan shift at work this morning, (oh, and also the all-day preparation of dinner yesterday, which, in reality, I won't complain about because I love grilling, even if it is at 11:45 in the morning, and I can still smell the porksteak and the bbq marinade it cooked in for five hours), I just sort of depended on the schedule, hoping that I had built in enough time to do work, homework, sleep, house duties. I also depended on other people's scheduling abilities, which time has tried to teach me again and again is useless, but this time I think I really got it. So, five employees scheduled 4-12:30. Let's call the four that were not me Rich, Cleo, David and Robb. That is, actually, their names, so that will make it easier. Rich and Cleo were no problem at all. Fantastic as always. David called at 4:30 to ask if he was still needed. Problem? Yes. Still needed. Mostly, still needed because Robb hadn't shown up. At least David had the decency to call. Whatever, though. This just means that I was right in February when I said to myself, "Robb isn't really, uh, he's not so good." Now, on top of being two hours late on Tuesday, he should get into some real trouble maybe. This will get the ball sssssssssllllllllllllllllooooooooooowwwwwwwwwwlllllllllllllllllyyyyyyy rolling (that's meant to mean it will roll very slowly as it always does at the big red bullseye) on his going bye-bye.
Okay, that's enough, no more work-related rants, I intend for this blog to be a haven from such drivel, but really, I just had to vent a little bit.
Music to Blog By:
Come Find Yourself by The Fun Lovin' Criminals
(It's on my Essentials playlist. Do you have an Essentials playlist? You should.)
Discussed in this post:
Obligations are obligations, let's be clear on that. Yes, it is nice to have the exact same schedule every week, because it's predictable, and even those of us who adore a last-minute change of plans--say, taking off to the Bahamas instead of spending the weekend doing yardwork--like our lives to be, for the most part, ordered and predictable. But, obligations are obligations, and you are obliged, as a human being who works to earn money to survive, to check and make sure that the status quo for this week has not experienced any changes. What am I driving at here? I'll tell you.
Check your work schedule, Robb.
I haven't slept in a day and a half. With my fiction portfolio due on Tuesday (with complete revisions on "How to Write a Three Day Novel," "Look At How Ugly the Stars Are," "Kissing Girls, Here and There," and a completely new, never-before-seen story (which I haven't started, really, because every time I start I get stuck and revise "Kissing" some more, a long process I won't bore you with details of at the moment), the refinance on the house, the ever-worsening bath tub caulk fiasco, and (of course) the 4 am to 12:30 pm entertainment scan shift at work this morning, (oh, and also the all-day preparation of dinner yesterday, which, in reality, I won't complain about because I love grilling, even if it is at 11:45 in the morning, and I can still smell the porksteak and the bbq marinade it cooked in for five hours), I just sort of depended on the schedule, hoping that I had built in enough time to do work, homework, sleep, house duties. I also depended on other people's scheduling abilities, which time has tried to teach me again and again is useless, but this time I think I really got it. So, five employees scheduled 4-12:30. Let's call the four that were not me Rich, Cleo, David and Robb. That is, actually, their names, so that will make it easier. Rich and Cleo were no problem at all. Fantastic as always. David called at 4:30 to ask if he was still needed. Problem? Yes. Still needed. Mostly, still needed because Robb hadn't shown up. At least David had the decency to call. Whatever, though. This just means that I was right in February when I said to myself, "Robb isn't really, uh, he's not so good." Now, on top of being two hours late on Tuesday, he should get into some real trouble maybe. This will get the ball sssssssssllllllllllllllllooooooooooowwwwwwwwwwlllllllllllllllllyyyyyyy rolling (that's meant to mean it will roll very slowly as it always does at the big red bullseye) on his going bye-bye.
Okay, that's enough, no more work-related rants, I intend for this blog to be a haven from such drivel, but really, I just had to vent a little bit.
Music to Blog By:
Come Find Yourself by The Fun Lovin' Criminals
(It's on my Essentials playlist. Do you have an Essentials playlist? You should.)
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