surreal

I have known for a long while that I have a lying face. I seldom need it, because I choose honesty. That's part of my own sense of personal integrity. But if I have to lie, I can do so very well.

Today I discovered that I don't feel guilty about lying to the enemy. I think it's a war thing. But it bothers my sense of personal integrity that I don't feel guilty--how's that for a kicker? I feel guilty that I don't feel guilty about lying to the enemy.

But I can share this with you

the Scout Walker Kama Sutra

Forgive me, but I won't be posting as often

Or, at least, I expect not. I never realized how much of my life revolves around work until suddenly, I couldn't discuss it.

Due to circumstances I can't describe, which have nothing to do with this blog, I am now attempting to follow rules which are not clearly defined. As I prefer to err on the side of caution, I will no longer be posting anything about my job or my reactions to it. I imagine you'll still be getting wedding updates and the occasional quote, unless all the bottled up angst I won't be sharing causes me to spontaneously combust or perhaps explode.

I went to lunch with R. today. We hit a butterfly.

Frustrated

I tore down the "Life is a Bench" sign we've had posted by the workbench for years, now. It was just sheets of paper banner-printed and taped together. Old and ratty. Life is not a bench anymore. Even the workbench is not a bench. I'm so mad I could scream or spit, and I can't.

When I slipped and expressed frustration with the fact that I now have to pull everything out again each time I need it and I'm not really mobile enough to do so comfortably, I then had to spend the next five minutes convincing Robert it wasn't his fault and I was in no way frustrated with him. He's just the pair of hands that did the dirty deed. He also got the compliment for it. Because the work I'd already done, knowing R has a bug up her butt about things looking "clean," evidently wasn't worth noticing or speaking of.

So, now it looks like we're not getting anything done around here. Let's hear it for fucking progress.

And yet, we had to push the Help Desk server out another month. Go figure. It's like everybody thought Mark was stalling, and time would somehow magically appear if they just put someone else in charge. Idiots and sheep. Many of them with three-letter titles.

right in my backyard

The receptionist in our building sent out an e-mail this morning warning us that the road just north of here was closed due to an accident. I kind of looked at the announcement and went, "What the hell did they find to hit?"

Why, the thing you can usually find on that quiet stretch of road. *shudders*

I love to blame cell phones and texting for a lot of stupid driving. How could I have forgotten good ol' drunk driving? At ten-something in the morning, I'm sure being drunk off your ass is a perfectly logical social activity.

They're charged with second-degree murder, which probably isn't going to fly. That would mean they saw the poor woman, took exception to her, and decided to drive into her on the spur of the moment. What a charge of second-degree murder does is plead down no lower than vehicular manslaughter when the perpetrators plead "guilty as fuck."

And people wonder about the crosses at the sides of the road out here . . .

I hate this.

Office staff meeting at work today. They always seemed juvenile and just on the edge of offensive to me. Now that my ex-boss isn't there to advocate for us, the double-speak, mind-changing, waffling, and stupid trivia questions send me to a level of irritation that could develop into quite a fine anger if I let it.

The handyman was in at Roxann's request today to hang bulliten boards, etc. Pulling his usual stunt of saying that it had to be done a certain way. In this case, I think it's not going to hurt anything, but it was just more of the same. I didn't bite him. But I wanted to.

Finance needs more staff. The office meeting said so. But nothing was said about IT as we languish.

Still waiting to hear back from the folks who sent me the technical questionaire.

Still at loggerheads with the interim director much of the time. I yield. It's as simple as that. I present useful information, and then I do what she says, whether she chooses to incorporate my information or not. The catch is, if she's in a mood where she's not listening to me, it's not useful to present her with information. I'm learning to pick my battles. And I hate it.

I want out of here.

Quote of the Week

"Your assumptions are your windows on the world. Scrub them off every once in a while or the light won't get in."

--Alan Alda

Worth reading.

Well said.

Gone chibi

Alas, I too have been infected by Dream Avatar. Here are some of my characters, gone chibi.

Riven, my first mu* character. Okay, so she doesn't look very exciting. I couldn't find any lightning bolts in the avatar generator. She did once throw that coffee mug at the head of a man holding a handgun on her and her friends. But she missed; she was really a better shot with sarcasm.



This is only an approximation of Derynn, one of my favorite characters. I had a dream, once, of a gypsy pregnant by a dragon. I played that gypsy on Fool's Moon, and Derynn is her son. In actuality, he doesn't have legs when he's in his natural form; everything is draconic snake-like tail up to about his hip bones. And his coloring should be different. But the flavor is here.



A pitiful attempt at Joel, who resisted attempts at chibification. The clothes are close, the hair should be longer, and I couldn't find one damn weapon he actually carries. But he was willing to admit this is a kick-ass scythe.

I feel better already.

When the going gets tough, the tough call Edward.

(You have to read Laurell K. Hamilton's Anita Blake books to get this one.)

Homework

Today the TEP position I applied for sent all applicants a technical questionaire. Five questions Windows, five Sun Solaris. The bad news is, my experience on a Sun system is mainly as an end-user and very very rusty. The good news is, the set of strictures on the technical questionaire make it plain that the answers don't have to come out of your own head. You're supposed to cite any sources you use in formulating the answer.

So, basically, it's a take-home test. And while I can't claim to know Sun Solaris, I can focus on impressing the hell out of them with my research skills. It's actually been fairly entertaining research, but after 8 out of 10 questions, my brain just turned to jello. Fortunately, it's not due until Thursday.

Quote of the Week

"This may not exactly be news, especially if you've ever paid taxes or gotten a driver's license, but you are an object. . . . I'll leave the decision about whether or not to fall into an Orwellian stupor over this piece of somewhat depressing information up to you."

--from Mike meyers' Certification Passport: MCSE/MCSA Windows Server 2003 Active Directory, by Brian Culp

Know Thyself

The Seven Deadly Sins Quiz

Greed:	Medium
Gluttony:	Medium
Wrath:	Very Low
Sloth:	Medium
Envy:	Very Low
Lust:	High
Pride:	Medium

Take the Seven Deadly Sins Quiz

Oddly, I don't feel the least desire to repent.

(Journey to RH, while watching anime last week: "Can I have her for my birthday? I'll share.")

The monkeys are out of the cages, and they're running the zoo . . .

Our color printer took a dump this morning. Three different people asked me about it before I even had a chance to call tech support. The drum just died suddenly; we're dead in the water until the replacement arrives.

The makers of our foster care bed-tracking software showed up for a presentation today and evidently expected full connectivity on all foster care staff computers. I can't really blame them--they obviously had no idea that we have to jump through quite a number of hoops to set this up for each individual user.

The instructions my network administrator left for setting up new users were wholely inadequate, and in one place dead wrong. I had to figure it out and revise the instructions.

While I was figuring, my Phoenix tech suddenly needed an extra laptop. I don't have one, but told him I could hijack one and we'll just have to put off the user it was intended for for a few days until we have a replacement or can do a scratch build.

In the midst of this, the CFO needed to know how to send an e-mail requesting a receipt, and one of the support management types had her network connection (of which we've replaced every bit, hardware and software), blitz on her again.

When I called my Tucson tech at his off-site to see if he could run the purloined laptop up to the halfway point to meet with our Phoenix tech tomorrow morning, he reported he'd just electroducted himself "a little" with a faulty printer at his off-site. "A little" translates to: He got a spark strong enough that it killed the circuit the printer was plugged into; they had to use the breaker to get it back.

My tech, alas, does not have a circuit breaker. I got to drop everything and bully him into going into the workman's comp place. Sample of conversation:

Tech: "I'm fine, I'm just tired."
Me: "You don't sound fine, and you didn't sound like this this morning."
Tech: "No, I was tired this morning."
Me: "You didn't sound like this this morning and Human Resources doesn't care if you're fine. HR has no sense of humor about workman's comp. Go anyway."

I swear, it was like trying to convince someone who just fainted that there's something wrong with them, and they'll just have to take your word for it.

So now, I have no backup, for several hours or until the workman's comp place says he's fit to come back.

I just finished revising the instructions. I still don't know what to do about laptop transport. I have yet to even touch that thing that was my number one priority item as of yesterday. And I have voicemail and I haven't even been into it to see what else has broken, yet.

*twitch twitch*

I want some job I'm more inclined toward than the one I interviewed for yesterday to call me back. I really need not to be here anymore.

*whimper*

How Google really works. Really.

a very purple suit interview

Well, I had the interview. It went well. Do they want me? I don't know. I know they like me, but I come with the baggage of needing time off in May and June. Do I want the job? I don't know. It'd be a different focus for me--one I'd probably enjoy, but not necessarily a career-building one. And there's a very major drawback in that you accrue 10 days of vacation in your first year . . . which can't be used until that year is up.

What's hot.

Sometimes, it's important to let your inner imp out. Expecially when she's dressed like that.

I saw Hairspray today. Oddly (or not?) it brought up something I'm very conflicted about: I'm trying to lose more weight, but believe weight has absolutely nothing to do with beauty. Better still, what I'm personally into (for both girls and guys, as it happens) is either the ballet-dancer slender or big enough to feel like I'm putting my arms around something. It's that middle range with muscles that's supposed to be beautiful/handsome that I really don't find terribly exciting.

And where am I trying to park myself? Right there. Because I reach the point of looking anorexic without ever looking slender, and my knees will be much happier with me if I can get down to medium.

And where's the difference between my waistline and somebody else's? The usual place, I suppose: in my head. Though, for what it's worth, maybe it's in my eyes, too--I can't see my own ass, and I confess, that's the bit of girls I'm usually watching walk by.