Not "Share Bear" Enabled

You know, I know work computers are well, for work and all and not actually a personal belonging. But when you work at the same one for so long and have everything set up the way you want it, it kinda feels like "yours." So, silly as it is - dontcha hate it when someone else uses your computer and you come back to find a bunch of stuff changed? What the crap is this? You were using this computer for a couple hours and found it necessary to put your own music program (what - itunes not good enough?) on here and install 2 frickin instant messengers? WTF? Perhaps I'm not as good about sharing as I thought, as my first reaction is to change all that's been tainted back to how I had it. Files buh-leted!

A pu-pu platter of postings

Since I always seem to get into shows when they're past their prime (or already cancelled) the latest show I've been diggin on is Arrested Development. Love it! I think I must favor shows that use the "uncomfortable humor" like The Office, so this is quickly being added to the all-time favorite, can't-miss-an-episode category. So, yay for reruns and DVRs!

I'm planning on making a whole mess o' cookies for the upcoming Thanksgiving festivities. Suppose I will at least attempt a pumpkin pie as well, but I feel safer with cookies as I'm still a newbie in the baking department. My fee-on-say, as I've mentioned before, is quite gifted wit tha kitchen skillz which is hella cool for me (and anyone eating with us). But I want to at least contribute something, even if it's just cleaning up the place and making an offering of cookies. Eh? Does that count? I wish I was craftier and more talented with domestic abilities to impress company, but moreso I just want everyone to have a good time, which hopefully they will.

I haven't mentioned anything about wedding plans in a while because A) I didn't think you'd be that interested and B)I have had almost no ideas other than what I don't like. But! We looked at a reception site we actually like, and for a comparably reasonable price! And if the idea of getting married in a church doesn't work out, there are options available for having the ceremony at the reception site as well. So that's a bit of relief for the moment.

I haven't been writing as much but I've been reading a bit more. Trouble is, I like to check out a whole stack of books from the library and then start more than one of them at the same time, so it really takes me longer to get any one of them finished. So right now, for example I'm almost done with Bleachy Haired Honky Bitch by Hollis Gillespie which I should've been through much faster as it is actually a compilation of short essays. I see that she's a contributor to NPR and perhaps her stuff is better that way, in small doses. Just because as I'm reading these all at once, it seems a bit repetitious. While the stories can be amusing at times, I think there's also some overkill with telling us about what her guy friends said and did and commented and suggested - I don't know if there's a chapter that hasn't mentioned them. I mean, I'm sure I'd love some gay guy friends as much as the next girl but it seems like it makes it less of her voice, ya know? Then I'm also reading Faithless by Joyce Carol Oates, which is another compilation of short stories. I think I'm gonna be about DONE with short stories in the near future, because now these seem more like stories that just got thrown together in a book because she had some drafts lying around but didn't want to bother giving them proper endings. Great character descriptions and suspensefully leading up to something, and then it's just blah blah the end. I mean, JCO is a respectable author with a shitload of books and all - I think I was just intimidated by some of her bigger novels and chose the short stories unwisely. Ah well, I still have 5 or 6 more books lined up to read next if these don't work out!

We actually had a "Pu-Pu Platter" at one of those combined Asian cuisine restaurants this weekend. Always wondered about that term. It's just a combo of somewhat americanized appetizers, but it was good stuff.

One for the therapist's couch

I want to be good. I want to do good things. I want to be considered a good person by others. But no matter what I do, I realize that the person I have the hardest time convincing of this goodness is myself. I feel like the attempts I make are in vain, that I'm not fooling anyone, that anything good I do is still overshadowed by what shitty things I've done. It's just not enough to redeem myself. If I look at it from a bigger perspective, I really haven't done much better or worse than most people. But still. Maybe I've taught myself to respond to negative reinforcement. My "conscience" insists on telling me that any good deed must have an ulterior motive lurking behind it. That I'm not a good girl. That I'm much too selfish and spoiled to really care about anything or anyone else but myself.
But I do, Mom, I do!

Battle of the Secretaries

I hate it that ever since the ONE time, about a year or more ago, that my boss didn't call back her boss in a timely manner, this woman assumes it was due to my negligence and not my boss's own doing. I gave him the message! And the message after that, damnit! She used her best mom voice and scolded me, saying "Well we've been waiting for his call and that's just NOT cool" and was quite personally offended. I apologized profusely but I didn't rat out my boss, so I will be taking the brunt of her bitchiness for... oh, eternity (or the length of my employment which hopefully comes first.) Ever since that little incident she gets pointedly snippy and uncooperative with me when she calls even though I kiss her ass. I can practically hear her cold, dead stare whenever I try to be light and friendly. At least I have the safety of only being over the phone and not in direct contact with her. I don't know. Menopausal much?


* I'll try to hold off on the work-related bitching at least for a while now. I know it's about as fun to read as... well, as it is to be here. Sorry about that.

Me and my naysaying

I was trying to think about why I always end up getting to this point in a job where I become kinda jaded. Starting out, I like the job okay - it's fresh, it's new, it's not so bad. I do fairly well and am given more responsibilites and knowledge of goings-on in the company. Then a fatal flaw occurs: I start to care. Care about the business, care about the clients that it affects, care about the image and reputation we're putting out there and want to make it better. It would be easier to just shutup and do my job without giving it an extra thought, but I can't seem to help it. I make some suggestions, do some of my gentle naysaying and usually at least some of it is received well. Then again at times it can come across as being nitpicky and negative and concerning myself with things that aren't my concern. Whether it's said or not, it is usually not my place to take these things upon myself, so I stop. These are usually matters that either aren't cost-effective or part of the Bigger Picture, therefore not worth the concern with the higher-ups. More often than not, I am reminded that the business world can be ugly and sometimes in these cases ignorance is bliss. I'm not to be mistaken as a go-getter, perhaps I just would like to think my criticism and attention to minute details occasionally work towards a good cause. I guess for once I should do what most people do and try to find a job that's worth caring about!

Searchin for a churchin

I don't know if I want to just accept the religion hand that I've been dealt only because it's familiar to me. I get the feeling that there could be something else out there that I'm more comfortable with. It's odd, when looking at the beliefs of different denominations, the old joke about declining a club's membership comes to mind. Like, would I really want to be a part of a church that would have someone like me as a member?

High School Sucked: An Occasional Series

10th grade English. We were supposed to be quietly reading Shakespeare. I felt sick, claustrophobic, and like I may burst into tears at any moment despite the medication that was intended to do otherwise. I made my way to the front of the classroom and asked Mrs. B in a whisper if I could have the bathroom pass. Up until then, we had a decent student/teacher relationship I thought. Unlike most of the jocks in my class I actually gave a shit about what we were reading or writing. But that was mostly thrown out the window in my case due to the fact that I had started accruing a substantial number of absences which I never really explained, so most teachers had me lumped into the "slacker" category. Unlike those who had initially made themselves known as slackers, I was treated with more disdain because no one likes to see someone who started out with potential head downhill so fast. Mrs. B looked up at me with a frown and shook her head "I'd rather not have you leaving class" she said sternly "I've spoken with Mr. S (my guidance counselor) and I know about your... problems." I cringed. While no teacher wants a student who's a possible mental case on their hands, she said it in a way that made me feel if I'd just asked permission to deface school property. Or as if I belonged in a straight jacket. Tears welled up in my eyes. "Well I had thought that was confidential" my voice shaking "but I'm really feeling sick and need to go to the bathroom." She handed me the hall pass, expressionless. "Quickly." I went to the bathroom in tears and dry heaved in one of the stalls. Now I wished that I was the type to deface school property. Fuck them. I wondered who else knew about my "problems" and regretted confiding in the guidance counselor. After all, we both knew he wasn't the kind of "counselor" I needed but he was the person I was assigned to speak with if I was having trouble. And talking to him meant more time away from classes that I hated, which I was sure they would also catch on to if they hadn't already. I didn't expect their sympathy, but I also didn't understand why my hurting myself made other people so angry. If this was some inspirational movie, there would've been some special teacher that reached out to me but also commanded respect and put me in my place with some tough love/heavy dose of reality kind of stuff. And I would struggle and cry and threaten, but after an uplifting music montage of getting my life back on track, would be a better stronger person for it. But of course I'm not saying that happened.