Some professor with a personal ad was happy to exchange e-mail with me for a week, until I sent a full-body picture: then suddenly I wasn't his "type."
Then I did something that surprised him like it hadn't happened to him before in his young life: I called him an asshole.
10 October 2007
09 October 2007
Bad News for Beer Lovers
Poor hop harvests may increase prices.
Macrobrewery may be using genetically modified rice.
Headline writers everywhere fall into a cliché trap.
Macrobrewery may be using genetically modified rice.
Headline writers everywhere fall into a cliché trap.
08 October 2007
Withdrawal
I have been battling fatigue (Grendel) and depression (Grendel’s mother) for the last three weeks.
The weariness is as bad as I’ve known it. I move through the daylight hours disconnected and dazed from lack of sleep, wanting nothing more than to eat a plate of buttered noodles and go to bed. The other day I had to ask a caller on the phone at work three times who he was trying to reach because my comprehension of the spoken English language momentarily ceased.
At night the ice weasels come* and I lie in the dark and stare at the ceiling. I’m up at one for some milk and crackers. I’m up at three to play mah-jongg solitaire. I finally fall asleep around 4:30. The alarm goes off at 6:30.
Caffeine is not the answer. Nor is a bottle of wine before bed. I’ve tried both and one is the path to the roller coaster of jitteriness; the other the path to puking up a piece of watermelon in the sink.
Better diet and bubble baths feel good. I finally joined the gym like I told P. (for two years) I would. But the fatigue lingers. The well is dry.
My friend moved, I lost my lover. I have to answer phones and enter checks at work. At the heart of the problem is the fact I have not had a truly restorative span of time away from work or school for over a year. My life and my creativity have been sucked out through my eyeballs by the 62+ hours a week sitting at a computer.
And I hate the Flash class. I abhor the Flash class. I spent an hour flipping off the computer yesterday because I could not successfully create the simplest of animations with Flash’s clunky drawing tools. My kingdom for Adobe Illustrator.
Why am I in the Flash class? Because it’s a requirement for the graphic design tech degree at the community college.
Since the last week of June, I have applied for five full-time, good-paying graphic design jobs in Ann Arbor. Just in Ann Arbor. I’ve been half-hearted and sporadic in my job search. Yet I was called for interviews for three of them. Two of them called me back for a second interview or requested to see more of my work.
Too much of my time is spent on unsatisfactory activities. Phones and data entry are not moving me towards my goals. Neither is the Flash class. My nearly eight years of on-the-job experience is what getting me those interviews.
I need time away from the desk to be out in the world so the well can be refilled. Time to draw and write and walk and find a new friend and put a better portfolio together and get more interviews.
The Flash class is the casualty. I will go in to the college offices tomorrow and tell them to put the big W on my transcript. I feel better already.
* I stole this from Matt Groening
The weariness is as bad as I’ve known it. I move through the daylight hours disconnected and dazed from lack of sleep, wanting nothing more than to eat a plate of buttered noodles and go to bed. The other day I had to ask a caller on the phone at work three times who he was trying to reach because my comprehension of the spoken English language momentarily ceased.
At night the ice weasels come* and I lie in the dark and stare at the ceiling. I’m up at one for some milk and crackers. I’m up at three to play mah-jongg solitaire. I finally fall asleep around 4:30. The alarm goes off at 6:30.
Caffeine is not the answer. Nor is a bottle of wine before bed. I’ve tried both and one is the path to the roller coaster of jitteriness; the other the path to puking up a piece of watermelon in the sink.
Better diet and bubble baths feel good. I finally joined the gym like I told P. (for two years) I would. But the fatigue lingers. The well is dry.
My friend moved, I lost my lover. I have to answer phones and enter checks at work. At the heart of the problem is the fact I have not had a truly restorative span of time away from work or school for over a year. My life and my creativity have been sucked out through my eyeballs by the 62+ hours a week sitting at a computer.
And I hate the Flash class. I abhor the Flash class. I spent an hour flipping off the computer yesterday because I could not successfully create the simplest of animations with Flash’s clunky drawing tools. My kingdom for Adobe Illustrator.
Why am I in the Flash class? Because it’s a requirement for the graphic design tech degree at the community college.
Since the last week of June, I have applied for five full-time, good-paying graphic design jobs in Ann Arbor. Just in Ann Arbor. I’ve been half-hearted and sporadic in my job search. Yet I was called for interviews for three of them. Two of them called me back for a second interview or requested to see more of my work.
Too much of my time is spent on unsatisfactory activities. Phones and data entry are not moving me towards my goals. Neither is the Flash class. My nearly eight years of on-the-job experience is what getting me those interviews.
I need time away from the desk to be out in the world so the well can be refilled. Time to draw and write and walk and find a new friend and put a better portfolio together and get more interviews.
The Flash class is the casualty. I will go in to the college offices tomorrow and tell them to put the big W on my transcript. I feel better already.
* I stole this from Matt Groening
07 October 2007
Full Recovery
Sylvie seems back to normal. She still refuses to eat the expensive grain-free cat food that alleviates her allergy symptoms, and instead has been eating Fancy Feast, which is kind of like having donuts for every meal. But she's happy, so I am relieved.
06 October 2007
Word Association Game
What's your first association with "Stanford":
a) law school
b) psychology experiment that would probably never be approved today
c) football
a) law school
b) psychology experiment that would probably never be approved today
c) football
05 October 2007
04 October 2007
03 October 2007
F U
Someone with these attributes, skills, and extensive software knowledge should be offered, in this geographic area, at least three times what this company is offering, and be offered a salary, not a friggin' hourly rate.
Ass berets.
But some poor soul in desperate need of a job will accept it, thus undercutting the rest of us.
I'm half tempted to take it myself, just for the pleasure of churning out some shitty designs with naughty subliminal pictures hidden in them.
02 October 2007
Call for Cat-Sitters
Lawyer P. recently landed a short-term assignment in London that he just couldn't pass up, and he's unable to take his cats with him. He asked if I know of anyone willing to take the brothers in for a six-month stint. I said I'd ask around, so here I am asking.
Location is not an issue - "I can drop them off anywhere in the country," P. writes, and if you think "Yeah, right," when you read that, then you don't know P. The boys are fairly low-maintenance, with long-haired Blondie requiring minimal brushing, and can go outside with supervision. They're a package deal: "Tuco w/o Blondie would be the world's neediest cat; Blondie w/o Tuco would be inert fur."
I would take them, but Sylvie (who is more active today and increasingly more pissed about the big needles) doesn't play well with others.
01 October 2007
Quick Dinner
Sorry, I know the pix have been crap lately. I'm preoccupied with my furry purry companion. She flat-out stopped eating on Thursday and nothing has enticed her to consume more than a mouthful or two, not the snottiest Fancy Feast nor the organic human-grade fare. She's not drinking much water either and I've hydrated her twice today subcutaneously with lactated Ringer's solution.
There's something about the way she lies there and purrs while I stab an 18-gauge needle into her that has me aware that this might be a final illness.
Though I've been wrong about dying animals before. In two years of volunteer experience at the Ohio Wildlife Center I saw geese I thought for sure were goners fly away from the transport crates, and a male cardinal died in my hand barely two seconds after I marked him down as BAR (bright, alert, responsive) on the intake form.
The vet said Sylvie's blood panel looked mostly fine on Saturday. The office called to tell me to start her back on her insulin today to prevent ketosis. Hopefully I can get her to finish this can of Shredded White Meat Chicken Fare in a Savory Broth with Garden Greens later this evening. Right now, she's tired of me fussing at her. So much so that she nipped at me. Which is a good thing, a bit of her usual brio.
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