In an effort to clear some hard-drive space on my "real" computer, I managed to delete an important system file (oh, how I loathe Microsoft. A Mac would NEVER uninstall a crucial file while doing a basic uninstall of an unrelated program.) And though I went to work this morning and borrowed some CDs to repair it, the CD drive is ALSO jacked-up and I can't reinstall Windows.
I'm writing this on my "other" computer, a teeny-tiny laptop with keys the size of Chiclets. As near as I can figure out, I'm going to have to take my PC to work, install a working CD drive, and go from there. If I lose all my data, I am going to be PISSED.
Blogging will be sporadic til I get this whole mess straightened out.
Saturday, October 29, 2005
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
Two Words: 1. Woo; 2. HOO!!
I am so not a baseball fan. And the denizens of my neighborhood are not so very much renowned for their love of the game either.
But we live in Chicago, home of a century-and-a-half of aggregat baseball futility. And tonight, that combined century-and-a-half?
Has ENDED!!!!!
You can hear the shouts and the hoots and the hollers and the popping of firecrackers (I HOPE) all up and down my block. Sometimes people just need an excuse to yell WOOHOO, but somehow I don't think that's what's driving this merriment.
All of you Sox who are reading this??? You RULE, guys. Absofreakinlutely RULE.
The city of Chicago thanks you.
(Except maybe the Cubs fans.)
But we live in Chicago, home of a century-and-a-half of aggregat baseball futility. And tonight, that combined century-and-a-half?
Has ENDED!!!!!
You can hear the shouts and the hoots and the hollers and the popping of firecrackers (I HOPE) all up and down my block. Sometimes people just need an excuse to yell WOOHOO, but somehow I don't think that's what's driving this merriment.
All of you Sox who are reading this??? You RULE, guys. Absofreakinlutely RULE.
The city of Chicago thanks you.
(Except maybe the Cubs fans.)
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
New Game!
I gotta thank Spins for this one, because...best new meme idea I've encountered in a WHILE.
The rules of the game are simple: when you leave a comment, include the following:
--the word-verification word provided in your comment window;
--a definition of that word, invented by you, and
--a sentence using that word.
For example--from the last comment I posted here:
tzehwdbs: the specific variety of goosebumps caused by discovering a crawling insect in the tub just as you step into the shower. That millipede really gave me a bad case of the tzehwdbs.)
Best definition wins.....um, something. The right to choose the subject of a future blog post, how 'bout that?
The rules of the game are simple: when you leave a comment, include the following:
--the word-verification word provided in your comment window;
--a definition of that word, invented by you, and
--a sentence using that word.
For example--from the last comment I posted here:
tzehwdbs: the specific variety of goosebumps caused by discovering a crawling insect in the tub just as you step into the shower. That millipede really gave me a bad case of the tzehwdbs.)
Best definition wins.....um, something. The right to choose the subject of a future blog post, how 'bout that?
News Nerd Blogs From Work--Sports Update
Apparently the Astros are not pleased with Major League Baseball’s plans to have the dome open during World Series Game 3 tonight.
(Full disclosure: GO SOX ! WOOHOO!)
Anyhow…The Astros feel that having the dome closed, which concentrates the crowd noise, gives them a home-field advantage. Which is possible, sure. But here’s what one of the Astros players said:
"I don't think they should step in and tell us what to do in our field, because it's our home-field advantage now," Game 3 starter Roy Oswalt said. "I think Chicago had their advantage there -- cold, windy. They've been playing in it all year; we haven't. So let's bring it back home and give the advantage to us now."
Italics mine.
Apparently Mr. Oswalt hasn’t spent much time here in Chicago this past season—one of the hottest and driest summers on record. How cold and windy weather, in such circumstances, constituted an “advantage” to the Sox players...Yeah, I’m thinking "not so much".
Personally, I think the Sox ought to INSIST that Houston management has its way in the Great Dome Controversy. That will make it so much sweeter when we spank them yet AGAIN.
Did I mention GO SOX!!!!?
(Further evidence that the Sox rule WAY more than the Astros—my spellchecker gladly accepts “Sox” as a valid word, yet balks at “Astros”. That, to me, says it all.)
(Full disclosure: GO SOX ! WOOHOO!)
Anyhow…The Astros feel that having the dome closed, which concentrates the crowd noise, gives them a home-field advantage. Which is possible, sure. But here’s what one of the Astros players said:
"I don't think they should step in and tell us what to do in our field, because it's our home-field advantage now," Game 3 starter Roy Oswalt said. "I think Chicago had their advantage there -- cold, windy. They've been playing in it all year; we haven't. So let's bring it back home and give the advantage to us now."
Italics mine.
Apparently Mr. Oswalt hasn’t spent much time here in Chicago this past season—one of the hottest and driest summers on record. How cold and windy weather, in such circumstances, constituted an “advantage” to the Sox players...Yeah, I’m thinking "not so much".
Personally, I think the Sox ought to INSIST that Houston management has its way in the Great Dome Controversy. That will make it so much sweeter when we spank them yet AGAIN.
Did I mention GO SOX!!!!?
(Further evidence that the Sox rule WAY more than the Astros—my spellchecker gladly accepts “Sox” as a valid word, yet balks at “Astros”. That, to me, says it all.)
News Nerd Blogs From Work, Part One
MIAMI -- A United Airlines pilot was removed from the cockpit and questioned by police after security screeners at Miami International Airport reported smelling alcohol, police said.
Later in the same story…
The flight had been scheduled to leave at 9 a.m. with 76 passengers. According to United's Web site, it took of at 3:40 p.m. after a crew change.
Okay. So let’s say I’m one of the 76 passengers on this flight.
9 AM to 3:40 PM…that’s nearly a seven-hour wait. I can think of a lot of things that I could accomplish in seven hours. I could do ALL my laundry; I could vacuum my house top to bottom; I could blog my fool head off, generating pointless ranting about almost any topic known to man. I could bake bread in seven hours and have time to stir up some garlic butter for it, to go with the pot of spaghetti I could ALSO whip up in seven hours.
That’s a lot of time, is my point. And I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather NOT spend it than at the airport.
But the story doesn’t say anything about how the passengers were compensated. It’s not possible, is it, that United management just decided that being given the courtesy of an unimpaired pilot was compensation enough??
Anyway. If I was a passenger in this story, I’d be howling like a Tasmanian Devil right about now.
(oh, and Pisser? OOKLABOOCHA!)
Sunday, October 23, 2005
Why The Internet Sucks
I don't know if I'm more pissed that this HAPPENED, or more pissed that I CARE.
I spend a fair amount of time over at Television Without Pity--I'd link to it, but...um, no, not anymore--reading, posting, generally trying to be a decent participant. I've read the rules and tried to follow them. I had only one "warning"--they have a graduated warning system for minor offenses--from nearly a year ago, and that's it.
Along with the moderators, they count on other readers to report posts that go against their policies--you know, "don't post off-topic", "don't be a troll", etc. So yesterday, seeing two questionable posts, I reported them. And, in my usual way, tried to be funny/colorful/interesting.
I checked back later and discovered that one of the issues had been dealt with and the other was no big deal. Okay. But then why was my warning level 40% instead of 20%??
So I clicked on the warning link, to find out what I'd been warned for. Editorializing when reporting posts. Hm. Okay...I didn't realize there was a rule against that. Better reread the FAQ to find out if there's anything else I'm missing.
So I go back and re-read the FAQ, and I don't see anything about editorializing when reporting posts. Hmmm. Well damn...how am I supposed to avoid mistakes if I can't find out where I'm told not to make them?
So I go to their "Forum Issues And Questions" area.
What do you think would be contained in such a forum? Maybe a place where, if you had QUESTIONS about a FORUM, it might be considered safe to ask them?
Apparently not at TWOP.
Here's my question--paraphrased, but closely: "I was recently warned for editorializing when reporting a post in Forum Traffic Court. I re-read the FAQ and didn't see anything against it; could you point me to the right place? (Please note--I'm not complaining about the warn; I'd just like to know which mistakes not to make BEFORE I make them, next time.)"
I went back to check the status of the question and it was gone. And when I saw it was gone, I was sure I knew what was next.
I clicked to check my warning level: sure enough--60%. And the note from the mod was pretty snippy: "You need to read your warning. Not everything is in the FAQ and if you're told not to editorialize, then don't editorialize. That's it."
Okay, in order of Pissing Me Off:
1. Those warnings don't expire. It says so in the FAQ. So it seems unfair to ding someone for something and not have it go away...
2. ...particularly if you haven't told them not to do it in the first place.
3. Obviously I read the warning. If I hadn't read the warning, how could I refer to it in asking a question?
4. I didn't say "I want to know why I was warned"--I said "I want to know where it says not to do that, because I haven't read that area and there are probably other things there I need to read." Maybe YOU need to read the question.
5. Has it occurred to you that I made this mistake as I was trying to HELP? as I was trying to IMPROVE the experience for all the participants? How willing do you think I'm going to be to help in the future, if this is the outcome?
It's not like there's any penalty attached to each individual warning--though I think if you reach 100% you get banned from the forums. It's the principle of the thing. I did something that I didn't know not to do, for the very good reason that there's nothing that says "don't do it"; then, when I asked how I could avoid making similar mistakes in the future, I was reprimanded for asking the question.
That little warning icon comes up whenever you're on the boards; you see the little scale with your percentage of warning marked on it everytime you go to write something. And I was already tired of seeing that 20% from almost a year ago, and of thinking "These really should expire"--I'm certainly not in the mood to see a 60% forever, and be reminded of what happens when you ask the wrong question.
So I'm going to exercise a very simple solution: not posting there anymore. And not participating, and not recommending them to others anymore, and not buying any more stuff from their site (which is sad, because I like their stuff). I'm not going to do the whole taking-my-toys-and-going-home thing of cancelling my account--that doesn't hurt them, it just lets them know they pissed me off, about which they care not at all. But they've lost a pretty decent forum member.
Then again, I've gained back a large chunk of time.
I normally hate this sort of blog entry--the Airing of the Grievances, Insignificant-Internet-Forum Edition--but I was pissed enough that I had to say SOMETHING. And after all, it's my blog--I can still say whatever I want, HERE.
But I don't know which one pisses me off more: that it happened, or that I care.
I spend a fair amount of time over at Television Without Pity--I'd link to it, but...um, no, not anymore--reading, posting, generally trying to be a decent participant. I've read the rules and tried to follow them. I had only one "warning"--they have a graduated warning system for minor offenses--from nearly a year ago, and that's it.
Along with the moderators, they count on other readers to report posts that go against their policies--you know, "don't post off-topic", "don't be a troll", etc. So yesterday, seeing two questionable posts, I reported them. And, in my usual way, tried to be funny/colorful/interesting.
I checked back later and discovered that one of the issues had been dealt with and the other was no big deal. Okay. But then why was my warning level 40% instead of 20%??
So I clicked on the warning link, to find out what I'd been warned for. Editorializing when reporting posts. Hm. Okay...I didn't realize there was a rule against that. Better reread the FAQ to find out if there's anything else I'm missing.
So I go back and re-read the FAQ, and I don't see anything about editorializing when reporting posts. Hmmm. Well damn...how am I supposed to avoid mistakes if I can't find out where I'm told not to make them?
So I go to their "Forum Issues And Questions" area.
What do you think would be contained in such a forum? Maybe a place where, if you had QUESTIONS about a FORUM, it might be considered safe to ask them?
Apparently not at TWOP.
Here's my question--paraphrased, but closely: "I was recently warned for editorializing when reporting a post in Forum Traffic Court. I re-read the FAQ and didn't see anything against it; could you point me to the right place? (Please note--I'm not complaining about the warn; I'd just like to know which mistakes not to make BEFORE I make them, next time.)"
I went back to check the status of the question and it was gone. And when I saw it was gone, I was sure I knew what was next.
I clicked to check my warning level: sure enough--60%. And the note from the mod was pretty snippy: "You need to read your warning. Not everything is in the FAQ and if you're told not to editorialize, then don't editorialize. That's it."
Okay, in order of Pissing Me Off:
1. Those warnings don't expire. It says so in the FAQ. So it seems unfair to ding someone for something and not have it go away...
2. ...particularly if you haven't told them not to do it in the first place.
3. Obviously I read the warning. If I hadn't read the warning, how could I refer to it in asking a question?
4. I didn't say "I want to know why I was warned"--I said "I want to know where it says not to do that, because I haven't read that area and there are probably other things there I need to read." Maybe YOU need to read the question.
5. Has it occurred to you that I made this mistake as I was trying to HELP? as I was trying to IMPROVE the experience for all the participants? How willing do you think I'm going to be to help in the future, if this is the outcome?
It's not like there's any penalty attached to each individual warning--though I think if you reach 100% you get banned from the forums. It's the principle of the thing. I did something that I didn't know not to do, for the very good reason that there's nothing that says "don't do it"; then, when I asked how I could avoid making similar mistakes in the future, I was reprimanded for asking the question.
That little warning icon comes up whenever you're on the boards; you see the little scale with your percentage of warning marked on it everytime you go to write something. And I was already tired of seeing that 20% from almost a year ago, and of thinking "These really should expire"--I'm certainly not in the mood to see a 60% forever, and be reminded of what happens when you ask the wrong question.
So I'm going to exercise a very simple solution: not posting there anymore. And not participating, and not recommending them to others anymore, and not buying any more stuff from their site (which is sad, because I like their stuff). I'm not going to do the whole taking-my-toys-and-going-home thing of cancelling my account--that doesn't hurt them, it just lets them know they pissed me off, about which they care not at all. But they've lost a pretty decent forum member.
Then again, I've gained back a large chunk of time.
I normally hate this sort of blog entry--the Airing of the Grievances, Insignificant-Internet-Forum Edition--but I was pissed enough that I had to say SOMETHING. And after all, it's my blog--I can still say whatever I want, HERE.
But I don't know which one pisses me off more: that it happened, or that I care.
Saturday, October 22, 2005
Deep Sigh
Okay: work.
Holy cow. I know new experiences are supposed to be good for me, and I know it's hard to learn new stuff, and all that. Intellectually, I know that.
But emotionally, I feel like an idiot--and if I see another spreadsheet, my brain is going to crawl out one ear, steal my car keys, and take itself out drinking. Heavily.
One of the guys on the team moved on to another job a few weeks ago. He had the second- or third-highest seniority of anyone on the team--five years, I think it was--and as such, he was one of the higher-level repositories of knowledge about what, exactly, we do. He was in charge of a number of reports, and when he gave his notice, responsibility for the reports was parcelled out among the other members of the team.
I'm not sure whether it was the luck of the draw, or they saw that I had very little else to be doing, or whether they maybe gave me a little more credit than I deserved; at any rate, I inherited a whopper of a report. It involved three different interfaces, five workbooks, eleven worksheets, a bunch of vertical lookups, and more shit I don't yet get. It goes to the Chief Financial Officer once a month, via one of the other higher-ups, who acts as a liaison.
On his very last day, at 3:45 PM, the guy whose job it was to do this fool thing before me took me into his office and attempted to train me on how to do it. By 4:45 when he left--they were going out for drinks--I had three pages of handwritten instructions and absolutely ZERO idea as to how it worked. And a week later, up comes Liaison-Guy, asking for his report.
I did my damndest, really I did. But...people, this thing...I have no possible way to convey the godawfuliciousness of this process. I did it once and he brought it back--there were problems. I did it again, fixed those problems, sent it back--nope. On the third run, I spent four hours just zeroing out bad formulas at the end. By HAND. Tab-zero-tab-zero-tab-tab-zero-enter. Tab-zero-tab-zero-tab-tab-zero-enter. I had a nice little rhythm going, by the time I'd gone through all eleven sheets.
Before I sent it back the third time, my uber-boss--Best Boss Ever, about whom I've said nothing so far but damn, this guy is a GREAT manager--told me that if I was still having trouble after that, he'd help me. And when it came back the THIRD time, still with some problems, I waved the white flag and went in to see Uber-Boss.
I spent, in the following three days, probably eleven hours sitting with the Uber-Boss and about three with Liaison Guy, walking step-by-step through the previous guy's process for running this report. The Uber-Boss is like, amazing. He cut whole chunks out of this process; reduced it from five workbooks to one, from eleven worksheets to six, and totally eliminated one of the interfaces entirely; then he went through and automated all the crappy, stupid stuff like zeroing out the bad results, and changing all the dates. What was taking me an entire day to get wrong, which would have taken me about four hours once I knew what I was doing, will now take me maybe half an hour to do. I am THRILLED, needless to say, and absolutely impressed by my Uber-Boss. He then went on to spend about four MORE hours with me, working on a different spreadsheet problem, which even he couldn't solve and which hangs over our collective heads for Monday, but whatever. He's a total opposite of Beverly, from Place Where I Used To Work; you couldn't have PAID her to actually get down in the trenches with HER workers.
But all is not well.
I have never worked in a manufacturing environment before. I have no idea about business concepts--purchasing, inventory control, formulation, etc. I don't know the first thing about "safety stock" or "shop packets" or the difference between finished goods vs. manufactured goods. It doesn't make a lick of sense to me yet, because no one has really taken the time to orient me to the language or the concepts; the guy whose job it is to do so is my immediate boss, and after three months I've concluded: he's a bit of a flake.
But all these are concepts I need to understand in order to do the documentation, which is one of the main parts of my job; and so I sit in on these long, contentious meetings with various departments and Immediate-Boss says I should be "documenting" these things, which I don't understand. So during these contentious meetings (made more contentious, and much much longer, by the fact that Immediate-Boss has not bothered to check the recently-imported data before coming into the meeting, necessitating forty minutes of correction by the departmental staff who already think the I.T. department is a bunch of idiots. Immediate-Boss reminds me, to a small extent, of Database Guy from the last job--he jumps into implementing shit and doesn't necessarily consider the implications. Uber-Boss reins him in, sometimes, but Uber-Boss doesn't always get accurate info about what's going on, I think) Anyway, during these contentious meetings, Immediate-Boss turns to me and asks me if I understand what's being discussed. To which I reply, quite honestly, that no, I do not. And he then tells me "Well, you have to ask me questions, then."
The problem here--and I've conveyed it to him as well--is that I am so far over my head that I can't even FORMULATE questions. I would ask, if I knew what to ask, but I don't. I need to be started waaaay back at the beginning, with definitions and terminology, which I should have been oriented to in my first days. And when I tell Immediate-Boss that I can't even figure out what I need to know, he tells me "well, then you have to meet with me."
Which would be grand, if it were even remotely possible. He is absolutely inaccessible. That was the problem during my first weeks there, and it continues to be a problem, and while I'm trying to glean information from my colleagues, there are some things that are his domain specifically, and most of them are the ones I need to do this documentation.
So as you can imagine, I'm pretty well frustrated with that part of my job. I think this is a good place to be, though--there's the opportunity to learn a lot, and my lessons with the Uber-Boss kinda convinced me that, if I wanted to, I could have a future in programming. I don't know if I want to, though...in fact, I sorta know I DON'T want that. My future isn't going to involve tech support, I don't think, or programming or any of that. I don't want to do that for the rest of my life.
In other news, though, I got my business cards for my bakery yesterday. I love VistaPrint....free stuff is good.
Holy cow. I know new experiences are supposed to be good for me, and I know it's hard to learn new stuff, and all that. Intellectually, I know that.
But emotionally, I feel like an idiot--and if I see another spreadsheet, my brain is going to crawl out one ear, steal my car keys, and take itself out drinking. Heavily.
One of the guys on the team moved on to another job a few weeks ago. He had the second- or third-highest seniority of anyone on the team--five years, I think it was--and as such, he was one of the higher-level repositories of knowledge about what, exactly, we do. He was in charge of a number of reports, and when he gave his notice, responsibility for the reports was parcelled out among the other members of the team.
I'm not sure whether it was the luck of the draw, or they saw that I had very little else to be doing, or whether they maybe gave me a little more credit than I deserved; at any rate, I inherited a whopper of a report. It involved three different interfaces, five workbooks, eleven worksheets, a bunch of vertical lookups, and more shit I don't yet get. It goes to the Chief Financial Officer once a month, via one of the other higher-ups, who acts as a liaison.
On his very last day, at 3:45 PM, the guy whose job it was to do this fool thing before me took me into his office and attempted to train me on how to do it. By 4:45 when he left--they were going out for drinks--I had three pages of handwritten instructions and absolutely ZERO idea as to how it worked. And a week later, up comes Liaison-Guy, asking for his report.
I did my damndest, really I did. But...people, this thing...I have no possible way to convey the godawfuliciousness of this process. I did it once and he brought it back--there were problems. I did it again, fixed those problems, sent it back--nope. On the third run, I spent four hours just zeroing out bad formulas at the end. By HAND. Tab-zero-tab-zero-tab-tab-zero-enter. Tab-zero-tab-zero-tab-tab-zero-enter. I had a nice little rhythm going, by the time I'd gone through all eleven sheets.
Before I sent it back the third time, my uber-boss--Best Boss Ever, about whom I've said nothing so far but damn, this guy is a GREAT manager--told me that if I was still having trouble after that, he'd help me. And when it came back the THIRD time, still with some problems, I waved the white flag and went in to see Uber-Boss.
I spent, in the following three days, probably eleven hours sitting with the Uber-Boss and about three with Liaison Guy, walking step-by-step through the previous guy's process for running this report. The Uber-Boss is like, amazing. He cut whole chunks out of this process; reduced it from five workbooks to one, from eleven worksheets to six, and totally eliminated one of the interfaces entirely; then he went through and automated all the crappy, stupid stuff like zeroing out the bad results, and changing all the dates. What was taking me an entire day to get wrong, which would have taken me about four hours once I knew what I was doing, will now take me maybe half an hour to do. I am THRILLED, needless to say, and absolutely impressed by my Uber-Boss. He then went on to spend about four MORE hours with me, working on a different spreadsheet problem, which even he couldn't solve and which hangs over our collective heads for Monday, but whatever. He's a total opposite of Beverly, from Place Where I Used To Work; you couldn't have PAID her to actually get down in the trenches with HER workers.
But all is not well.
I have never worked in a manufacturing environment before. I have no idea about business concepts--purchasing, inventory control, formulation, etc. I don't know the first thing about "safety stock" or "shop packets" or the difference between finished goods vs. manufactured goods. It doesn't make a lick of sense to me yet, because no one has really taken the time to orient me to the language or the concepts; the guy whose job it is to do so is my immediate boss, and after three months I've concluded: he's a bit of a flake.
But all these are concepts I need to understand in order to do the documentation, which is one of the main parts of my job; and so I sit in on these long, contentious meetings with various departments and Immediate-Boss says I should be "documenting" these things, which I don't understand. So during these contentious meetings (made more contentious, and much much longer, by the fact that Immediate-Boss has not bothered to check the recently-imported data before coming into the meeting, necessitating forty minutes of correction by the departmental staff who already think the I.T. department is a bunch of idiots. Immediate-Boss reminds me, to a small extent, of Database Guy from the last job--he jumps into implementing shit and doesn't necessarily consider the implications. Uber-Boss reins him in, sometimes, but Uber-Boss doesn't always get accurate info about what's going on, I think) Anyway, during these contentious meetings, Immediate-Boss turns to me and asks me if I understand what's being discussed. To which I reply, quite honestly, that no, I do not. And he then tells me "Well, you have to ask me questions, then."
The problem here--and I've conveyed it to him as well--is that I am so far over my head that I can't even FORMULATE questions. I would ask, if I knew what to ask, but I don't. I need to be started waaaay back at the beginning, with definitions and terminology, which I should have been oriented to in my first days. And when I tell Immediate-Boss that I can't even figure out what I need to know, he tells me "well, then you have to meet with me."
Which would be grand, if it were even remotely possible. He is absolutely inaccessible. That was the problem during my first weeks there, and it continues to be a problem, and while I'm trying to glean information from my colleagues, there are some things that are his domain specifically, and most of them are the ones I need to do this documentation.
So as you can imagine, I'm pretty well frustrated with that part of my job. I think this is a good place to be, though--there's the opportunity to learn a lot, and my lessons with the Uber-Boss kinda convinced me that, if I wanted to, I could have a future in programming. I don't know if I want to, though...in fact, I sorta know I DON'T want that. My future isn't going to involve tech support, I don't think, or programming or any of that. I don't want to do that for the rest of my life.
In other news, though, I got my business cards for my bakery yesterday. I love VistaPrint....free stuff is good.
But First...
...a public-service whine:
You people who read blogs only at work, and then never check in on the weekends?
You're screwing up my stats!!!
That is all.
You people who read blogs only at work, and then never check in on the weekends?
You're screwing up my stats!!!
That is all.
Exploding Things: Home Edition
It's been a rocky week here at Chez Gladys.
I'm going through some shit of my own, but LJ: not helping. And it all came to a head yesterday morning, when I left him an (admittedly) nasty note which contained the phrase "Really, I just don't care anymore."
I'd say "subtleties of the written word really ain't his thing, apparently" except if I'm being honest with myself, there was damn little subtlety to be had; at the time I wrote it, I meant it all the way down. And that's exactly how he took it. He called his sister and made arrangements for her to come pick up his stereo; in his mind, at least, he was moving out. He sent me a text message (which I didn't see til this morning, though he repeated the salient points in a phone conversation last evening) telling me that I'd been "acting like a bitch lately" and that if I didn't care anymore, then "fuck it."
When he said that, about me acting like a bitch, I was fairly pissed; then I thought about it for a while, and...yeah, a little. (Though he was a total hypocrite when I asked him why he hadn't said something before now--he's always telling me that if something's bothering me, I need to say something; then when he has a problem with how I'm acting, he says nothing. But that's a slightly less-important point.) I was being a bitch because I felt like I was repeating the same points over and over and he wasn't listening. It was making me mad, and that was becoming increasingly obvious.
He said "we'll talk about it when I come home." Then he stayed out til after 3--that was when I gave up waiting for him--and when I woke up at 6, he was asleep in the spare room. I thought about it for a minute, and then I went in and woke him up. Fuck it, I thought; if he's mad enough to leave I'm not going to worry about making him madder by waking him up; and if there's something we can salvage here, then it's important enough to wake up for.
So he woke up, and got into bed with me, and we talked for a while. And despite my best efforts and all my resolve, there was crying; I think I'm one of those people who cries when she's mad, too. But I think I finally might have gotten through to him. I told him, "One of the things I know about you is, you do exactly what you want to do, and nothing else. And since you spend all your time outside, and none with me, I see that as 'if you wanted to spend time with me, you would, but you don't, so obviously it's not something you want to do.' And after a while, I don't make that into 'What's wrong with HIM, that he doesn't want to spend time with me'; I make that into 'What's wrong with ME, that he doesn't want to spend time with me.'"
He was very quiet for a minute, and when he spoke he sounded really shocked. "Naw," he said. "It's not like that. It's not like THAT at ALL."
He wasn't very talkative--to be fair, I'd woken him out of a dead sleep, so...yeah--but what little he said made me feel somewhat better, anyway. And after a while, as he was falling back to sleep and I said "love you, baby," he actually said it back. Like, as the actual phrase, not couched in some complicated story--just flat-out, for the first time.
Which doesn't solve anything, really--he's still gotta spend a lot more time with me, and treat me more like a girlfriend, less like a roomie--but it patched things up between us. And I'm sure this is going to seem like more cannon-fodder for the "you're too good for him/kick the boy out" crowd--but it shouldn't be, so much, because I'm willing to admit that I've been a little weird lately.
For one thing: next weekend will be ten years since JP died. I'm not even going there yet, at least not in writing; my mind, on the other hand, doesn't seem to want to go anywhere else. It's...not easy. That's all I'm gonna say for the moment.
And then there's work. And that's the next post, because if I put this all in one post, nobody will ever wanna read it, because it's HUGE.
I'm going through some shit of my own, but LJ: not helping. And it all came to a head yesterday morning, when I left him an (admittedly) nasty note which contained the phrase "Really, I just don't care anymore."
I'd say "subtleties of the written word really ain't his thing, apparently" except if I'm being honest with myself, there was damn little subtlety to be had; at the time I wrote it, I meant it all the way down. And that's exactly how he took it. He called his sister and made arrangements for her to come pick up his stereo; in his mind, at least, he was moving out. He sent me a text message (which I didn't see til this morning, though he repeated the salient points in a phone conversation last evening) telling me that I'd been "acting like a bitch lately" and that if I didn't care anymore, then "fuck it."
When he said that, about me acting like a bitch, I was fairly pissed; then I thought about it for a while, and...yeah, a little. (Though he was a total hypocrite when I asked him why he hadn't said something before now--he's always telling me that if something's bothering me, I need to say something; then when he has a problem with how I'm acting, he says nothing. But that's a slightly less-important point.) I was being a bitch because I felt like I was repeating the same points over and over and he wasn't listening. It was making me mad, and that was becoming increasingly obvious.
He said "we'll talk about it when I come home." Then he stayed out til after 3--that was when I gave up waiting for him--and when I woke up at 6, he was asleep in the spare room. I thought about it for a minute, and then I went in and woke him up. Fuck it, I thought; if he's mad enough to leave I'm not going to worry about making him madder by waking him up; and if there's something we can salvage here, then it's important enough to wake up for.
So he woke up, and got into bed with me, and we talked for a while. And despite my best efforts and all my resolve, there was crying; I think I'm one of those people who cries when she's mad, too. But I think I finally might have gotten through to him. I told him, "One of the things I know about you is, you do exactly what you want to do, and nothing else. And since you spend all your time outside, and none with me, I see that as 'if you wanted to spend time with me, you would, but you don't, so obviously it's not something you want to do.' And after a while, I don't make that into 'What's wrong with HIM, that he doesn't want to spend time with me'; I make that into 'What's wrong with ME, that he doesn't want to spend time with me.'"
He was very quiet for a minute, and when he spoke he sounded really shocked. "Naw," he said. "It's not like that. It's not like THAT at ALL."
He wasn't very talkative--to be fair, I'd woken him out of a dead sleep, so...yeah--but what little he said made me feel somewhat better, anyway. And after a while, as he was falling back to sleep and I said "love you, baby," he actually said it back. Like, as the actual phrase, not couched in some complicated story--just flat-out, for the first time.
Which doesn't solve anything, really--he's still gotta spend a lot more time with me, and treat me more like a girlfriend, less like a roomie--but it patched things up between us. And I'm sure this is going to seem like more cannon-fodder for the "you're too good for him/kick the boy out" crowd--but it shouldn't be, so much, because I'm willing to admit that I've been a little weird lately.
For one thing: next weekend will be ten years since JP died. I'm not even going there yet, at least not in writing; my mind, on the other hand, doesn't seem to want to go anywhere else. It's...not easy. That's all I'm gonna say for the moment.
And then there's work. And that's the next post, because if I put this all in one post, nobody will ever wanna read it, because it's HUGE.
Monday, October 17, 2005
About That Question
Okay, so now that I have a collection of answers to the "do I seem sad to you?" question (which came to a consensus of "no--not really SAD, not as such"), I promised some background.
I've been talking for a while to another blogger. Without going into too much detail--for one thing, he reads this blog--he has a really bad situation going on. I'm amazed at the fact that he's handling it at all, let alone how well he's handling it; we talk on IM, when I'm online, and trade e-mails. Anyway, after reading one of my latest e-mails, he came back with an apology--he was sorry, he said, for being so self-absorbed and forgetting MY sorrow.
I was touched, for one thing, but mostly I was astonished--how could someone dealing with the stuff he's dealing with feel like he has to apologize to ME for being self-absorbed? And then I started to wonder: do I REALLY come off that sad?? I read back for a while, but it's hard to be objective about your own writings. So I figured I'd see what my readers thought.
I don't think I'm THAT unhappy. I mean, I'm not pleased with where my life is right now, in terms of job, living situation, and relationship; but that's circumstance, easily corrected. Well, fairly easily.
I just don't want to be one of those SAD people--people for whom nothing is ever right, people who are always miserable no matter how normal their life is. I wanted to make sure that I wasn't ALREADY that person, and who better to ask than the people who get all the piddly little details of my life??
I've been talking for a while to another blogger. Without going into too much detail--for one thing, he reads this blog--he has a really bad situation going on. I'm amazed at the fact that he's handling it at all, let alone how well he's handling it; we talk on IM, when I'm online, and trade e-mails. Anyway, after reading one of my latest e-mails, he came back with an apology--he was sorry, he said, for being so self-absorbed and forgetting MY sorrow.
I was touched, for one thing, but mostly I was astonished--how could someone dealing with the stuff he's dealing with feel like he has to apologize to ME for being self-absorbed? And then I started to wonder: do I REALLY come off that sad?? I read back for a while, but it's hard to be objective about your own writings. So I figured I'd see what my readers thought.
I don't think I'm THAT unhappy. I mean, I'm not pleased with where my life is right now, in terms of job, living situation, and relationship; but that's circumstance, easily corrected. Well, fairly easily.
I just don't want to be one of those SAD people--people for whom nothing is ever right, people who are always miserable no matter how normal their life is. I wanted to make sure that I wasn't ALREADY that person, and who better to ask than the people who get all the piddly little details of my life??
Saturday, October 15, 2005
Me Me Me Me Me Me Meme...
I found this meme over at Reflective Musings. I did it just because I was curious; I was sure the results would be something dull and I wouldn't bother posting it. Hehehe...I was very wrong.
Here's the meme:
1. Go into your archive.
2. Find your 23rd post.
3. Find the fifth sentence (or closest to).
4. Post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions.
5. Tag five other people to do the same.
Here's the result:
T-shirts that read "I (heart) NU VAGINAS" will be on sale for just $10.
Hee! (This meme also made me recognize how VERY slowly this blog started out--I started on September 23rd 2003, but my 23rd post didn't come til February 13th 2004. How times have changed!)
I'm not gonna tag anyone--but run with it if you're interested!
Here's the meme:
1. Go into your archive.
2. Find your 23rd post.
3. Find the fifth sentence (or closest to).
4. Post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions.
5. Tag five other people to do the same.
Here's the result:
T-shirts that read "I (heart) NU VAGINAS" will be on sale for just $10.
Hee! (This meme also made me recognize how VERY slowly this blog started out--I started on September 23rd 2003, but my 23rd post didn't come til February 13th 2004. How times have changed!)
I'm not gonna tag anyone--but run with it if you're interested!
Question for You
I have a question for you, loyal readers:
Do I seem unhappy to you?
I'll explain the background of the question later; I'm trying to get a feel for how people see me.
Do I seem unhappy to you?
I'll explain the background of the question later; I'm trying to get a feel for how people see me.
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
Two New Additions
I just added two newbies to my blogroll--go and visit them, whydontcha.
Alecya G's Plastic Castle--about to become one of my must-reads...
...along with Sexy In Milwaukee.
Both of these ladies are either new readers, or lurkers who've just commented for the first time. Welcome, to both of you! And if anyone here is reading and NOT on my blogroll, please leave a comment. I'd hate to slight anyone!
Alecya G's Plastic Castle--about to become one of my must-reads...
...along with Sexy In Milwaukee.
Both of these ladies are either new readers, or lurkers who've just commented for the first time. Welcome, to both of you! And if anyone here is reading and NOT on my blogroll, please leave a comment. I'd hate to slight anyone!
Monday, October 10, 2005
What You Need
I got this from Pisser and while normally I'm not a big meme person, this one just made me giggle...as you shall see.
EVERYBODY NEEDS
Here's what you do: go to google.com and type "(your name) needs" Then pick the 5 funniest ones there.
Here's my outcome (as stolen back from Pisser's comment screen):
Gladys needs the Windsor Fire Department. (As long as the WFD is tall, well-endowed, and preferably has dreads, I'm all on THAT fire-engine.)
Gladys needs help to obtain and better manage her medicines so she can feel better. (HELL yeah. Truer words never spoken.)
Gladys needs the fairys she jammed under her toenails removed. (Um...Okay.)
Gladys apparently does NOT need any stern lectures from anyone on pre-marital sex. (Though I could certainly use more sex.)
Gladys needs improvement in learning to express her anger without insult. (That's just what I'd expect a stanky biatch to say. And furthermore, nanny nanny boo boo.)
Gladys needs to reserve a tiller. (Well, if the Windsor Fire Department is otherwise occupied, I guess that would be fine.)
Feel free--in fact, feel personally obligated--to put your results in a comment below!
EVERYBODY NEEDS
Here's what you do: go to google.com and type "(your name) needs" Then pick the 5 funniest ones there.
Here's my outcome (as stolen back from Pisser's comment screen):
Gladys needs the Windsor Fire Department. (As long as the WFD is tall, well-endowed, and preferably has dreads, I'm all on THAT fire-engine.)
Gladys needs help to obtain and better manage her medicines so she can feel better. (HELL yeah. Truer words never spoken.)
Gladys needs the fairys she jammed under her toenails removed. (Um...Okay.)
Gladys apparently does NOT need any stern lectures from anyone on pre-marital sex. (Though I could certainly use more sex.)
Gladys needs improvement in learning to express her anger without insult. (That's just what I'd expect a stanky biatch to say. And furthermore, nanny nanny boo boo.)
Gladys needs to reserve a tiller. (Well, if the Windsor Fire Department is otherwise occupied, I guess that would be fine.)
Feel free--in fact, feel personally obligated--to put your results in a comment below!
Friday, October 7, 2005
Things That Happened This Week
The Week In Review, Gladys-Style: A random list of observations and events with no cohesive theme.
--I've discovered those Warm Delights microwave desserts. As long as you don't try to think of them as "cake", which they supposedly are but nothing that comes out of a microwave qualifies as "cake" in the traditional sense; anyway, as long as you just accept them as a Branded Amorphous Dessert Experience, they're remarkably not-awful. Especially if you blob a big scoop of French Vanilla on 'em.
--I think I'm going to sell Chez Gladys. I have a couple more alternatives to try first, but if neither HUD nor the original mortgagor will come up off some SERIOUS cash for repairs, there's a better-than-75%-chance that I'm going to unload it. I've got one of those "we buy ugly houses" people coming by next week, just to see what he'll offer.
--If there is a God, I don't think he cares too much about what us puny humans think of him.
--Microsoft blows. I was SO not made to work in a non-Mac environment.
--In fact, I'm not sure I was made to work in ANY sort of environment. I've begun to consider a career as a long-haul trucker. And I am absolutely, without question, going to take The Road Trip before I die--hopefully before I reach 40.
--Some of you, in the comments from the last post, asked about elevenevele. I'm still working on it, yes...if by "working on" you mean "thinking about, but steadfastly not completing". I am hugely intimidated by this book and the response I've received to it, in ways I can't even begin to explain....it's very hard for me to accept praise and still keep going. I'm not used to praise, and it rattles me. Not that I don't appreciate it; I'm just not used to it. I often wonder idly about what I would be like if I became famous as a writer; I already know I have a hard time not taking criticism personally, but I'm learning that I'm also not so good with praise. This leads me to conclude that I'm actually just not good with human interactions of any kind. Anyway--I haven't forgotten about the book, or given up on it, but I haven't been writing much lately either. My self-imposed deadline is approaching, and there's literally zero chance that I will make it. If I knew why I was so consistent and accurate in setting myself up for failure, my life would probably be much different; I'm pretty sure I'm one of those folks who's scared of success. And I don't know how I came to be that way, or why, or how to be different.
--I need a girlfriend. Whether it's the long drought (I seriously don't remember the last time I got laid) or boredom or what, my not-entirely-hetero tendencies are more on my mind than usual.
--If I was going to make a big change in my style of dress and try to be more "girly", I think I'd go all the way with it and go very Little-House-On-the-Prairie, with flowy calico dresses. I love calico; in fact, that's going to be my next quilt project, after the flannel-shirt quilt--an old-fashioned calico quilt of some sort.
--It's a lot easier to love LJ when he's not around. Not that I dislike his company; but my life is much more placid when he goes on his long road-trips. The house is cleaner, there are fewer things to do, and I can eat popcorn for dinner and watch reality TV and go to bed with the fan off and no earplugs. When he's around--and this is my problem, not his--but when he's around I feel like I have to be "on" all the time--ready to be Girlfriend Gladys instead of Slacker Gladys. And yet...when he's here I feel more peaceful, more secure. I can crawl under his blanket and cuddle up next to him. He's been so sweet to me lately--calling me at work, sending me text messages, being way better about letting me know what's happening and what his plans are, both short-term and long-term. He's a great guy and I love him dearly--I just wish I was more comfortable with him. And again--this is MY problem, not his. I am becoming more and more of a hermit as time passes, and I can see there's no possible good end to the way I'm going; someday I'm going to be old and I won't be able to do everything for myself anymore, and there won't be anyone around because I will have entirely withdrawn from everyone else. That's a scary thought, you know? But right now people take up way more energy than I've got, and it's getting worse instead of better. I haven't even been blogging as much as I used to, and that's about as far as you can be from actual humans while still retaining some semblance of interaction. Firefly has been sending me worried e-mails, and I know I've been a lousy correspondent; there are people who I know I should write to, who I haven't, just because it takes too much energy and I feel like I have nothing to say anyway. (I'm thinking I'm providing compelling evidence in favor of Getting Some Help here, which is becoming obvious even to me.) And it's not as though I'm lonely; I just recognize that this level of isolation, even if it's not bothering me, is still not a good way to be. It's not new; I've lost many friends to this kind of inertia, but at least this time I recognize that it's happening and that I don't want it to. TO a certain extent I think it's because I'm in this rut, and that I need to break out of the rut and everything else will follow. But the bills still have to be paid, and it's that getting up in the morning and going somewhere I dislike that's the main tire-track, so to speak, in this lovely rut of mine.
--The Chicago White Sox rule. And I am not a baseball fan, normally, but they're WINNING and when you live in Chicago and a baseball team starts WINNING, that's not something you ignore, largely because it's not necessarily going to happen again in anyone's given lifetime. So, for the duration, I am a Sox fan. (Note to any REAL Sox fans reading this: I am not the evil kind of bandwagon-jumper. If I was a baseball fan of any sort, I would be a Sox fan; I'm not one of those Cubs-fans-who-becomes-a-Sox-fan-when-it's-convenient types. So I am forgiveable, barely. And plus my grandma was a lifelong Sox fan--isn't there some sort of clause that makes me a fan by osmosis?)
More soon. It's bedtime, and there's a Branded Amorphous Dessert Experience with my name on it.
--I've discovered those Warm Delights microwave desserts. As long as you don't try to think of them as "cake", which they supposedly are but nothing that comes out of a microwave qualifies as "cake" in the traditional sense; anyway, as long as you just accept them as a Branded Amorphous Dessert Experience, they're remarkably not-awful. Especially if you blob a big scoop of French Vanilla on 'em.
--I think I'm going to sell Chez Gladys. I have a couple more alternatives to try first, but if neither HUD nor the original mortgagor will come up off some SERIOUS cash for repairs, there's a better-than-75%-chance that I'm going to unload it. I've got one of those "we buy ugly houses" people coming by next week, just to see what he'll offer.
--If there is a God, I don't think he cares too much about what us puny humans think of him.
--Microsoft blows. I was SO not made to work in a non-Mac environment.
--In fact, I'm not sure I was made to work in ANY sort of environment. I've begun to consider a career as a long-haul trucker. And I am absolutely, without question, going to take The Road Trip before I die--hopefully before I reach 40.
--Some of you, in the comments from the last post, asked about elevenevele. I'm still working on it, yes...if by "working on" you mean "thinking about, but steadfastly not completing". I am hugely intimidated by this book and the response I've received to it, in ways I can't even begin to explain....it's very hard for me to accept praise and still keep going. I'm not used to praise, and it rattles me. Not that I don't appreciate it; I'm just not used to it. I often wonder idly about what I would be like if I became famous as a writer; I already know I have a hard time not taking criticism personally, but I'm learning that I'm also not so good with praise. This leads me to conclude that I'm actually just not good with human interactions of any kind. Anyway--I haven't forgotten about the book, or given up on it, but I haven't been writing much lately either. My self-imposed deadline is approaching, and there's literally zero chance that I will make it. If I knew why I was so consistent and accurate in setting myself up for failure, my life would probably be much different; I'm pretty sure I'm one of those folks who's scared of success. And I don't know how I came to be that way, or why, or how to be different.
--I need a girlfriend. Whether it's the long drought (I seriously don't remember the last time I got laid) or boredom or what, my not-entirely-hetero tendencies are more on my mind than usual.
--If I was going to make a big change in my style of dress and try to be more "girly", I think I'd go all the way with it and go very Little-House-On-the-Prairie, with flowy calico dresses. I love calico; in fact, that's going to be my next quilt project, after the flannel-shirt quilt--an old-fashioned calico quilt of some sort.
--It's a lot easier to love LJ when he's not around. Not that I dislike his company; but my life is much more placid when he goes on his long road-trips. The house is cleaner, there are fewer things to do, and I can eat popcorn for dinner and watch reality TV and go to bed with the fan off and no earplugs. When he's around--and this is my problem, not his--but when he's around I feel like I have to be "on" all the time--ready to be Girlfriend Gladys instead of Slacker Gladys. And yet...when he's here I feel more peaceful, more secure. I can crawl under his blanket and cuddle up next to him. He's been so sweet to me lately--calling me at work, sending me text messages, being way better about letting me know what's happening and what his plans are, both short-term and long-term. He's a great guy and I love him dearly--I just wish I was more comfortable with him. And again--this is MY problem, not his. I am becoming more and more of a hermit as time passes, and I can see there's no possible good end to the way I'm going; someday I'm going to be old and I won't be able to do everything for myself anymore, and there won't be anyone around because I will have entirely withdrawn from everyone else. That's a scary thought, you know? But right now people take up way more energy than I've got, and it's getting worse instead of better. I haven't even been blogging as much as I used to, and that's about as far as you can be from actual humans while still retaining some semblance of interaction. Firefly has been sending me worried e-mails, and I know I've been a lousy correspondent; there are people who I know I should write to, who I haven't, just because it takes too much energy and I feel like I have nothing to say anyway. (I'm thinking I'm providing compelling evidence in favor of Getting Some Help here, which is becoming obvious even to me.) And it's not as though I'm lonely; I just recognize that this level of isolation, even if it's not bothering me, is still not a good way to be. It's not new; I've lost many friends to this kind of inertia, but at least this time I recognize that it's happening and that I don't want it to. TO a certain extent I think it's because I'm in this rut, and that I need to break out of the rut and everything else will follow. But the bills still have to be paid, and it's that getting up in the morning and going somewhere I dislike that's the main tire-track, so to speak, in this lovely rut of mine.
--The Chicago White Sox rule. And I am not a baseball fan, normally, but they're WINNING and when you live in Chicago and a baseball team starts WINNING, that's not something you ignore, largely because it's not necessarily going to happen again in anyone's given lifetime. So, for the duration, I am a Sox fan. (Note to any REAL Sox fans reading this: I am not the evil kind of bandwagon-jumper. If I was a baseball fan of any sort, I would be a Sox fan; I'm not one of those Cubs-fans-who-becomes-a-Sox-fan-when-it's-convenient types. So I am forgiveable, barely. And plus my grandma was a lifelong Sox fan--isn't there some sort of clause that makes me a fan by osmosis?)
More soon. It's bedtime, and there's a Branded Amorphous Dessert Experience with my name on it.
Saturday, October 1, 2005
Well, Now You've Gone And Screwed It Up For Everyone
Reluctantly, I've had to turn on that hateful "word-verification" feature in comments. I think I'm the last one on the block to do it, but this is too much comment-spam for one day.
Buncha jerks...
Buncha jerks...
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