%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |
Crush enemies, abandon hope, and unleash endless waves of unrepentant sarcasm. |
|
There's nothing to see here that's really out of the ordinary. Nothing really terribly interesting either, unless you like griping, gossip, grudges, and possible mental illness. If anything it's some small way to keep myself writing (though you'll see by the dates on the entries that it's by no means an effective way), as well as a means through which I can vent about any number of things that are pissing me off. Occasionally there's pie. Look: I'm not a normal person. I'm suffering from untreated depression and plagued by increasingly frequent migraines that pretty much render me bedridden for days. I've suffered a lifetime of abuse and neglect, and still have to struggle with unfathomable depths of low self-worth, not to mention the eating disorders. I'm a weirdo, a freak, an aberration of nature and human experience . . . but it doesn't make me interesting. So, you can read this if you want. I've got some social commentary that might be a little fun, and occasionally throw in a poem or two, but for the most part it's the ramblings of a stricken mind. Pay no attention to the woman behind the curtain; she's just trying to change her dress. |
| Why do I always select a different color for each blog entry, you ask? Good question! I have no idea. I just like pretty things and randomness. So as you can guess, the whole numbered-days technique didn't work out better than any of my other symbolic urgings to update this thing every day (or even halfway regularly). Hell, it went worse than my other attempts at writing-regularity. Maybe I should try more fiber? ba-dum-tchhhh. Bad joke, and a Courage the Cowardly Dog reference, which makes it acceptable. Though when you think about it, fiber does act as an appetite suppressant, so maybe it would help reduce the snack-attacks that seize me right before I settle down to work, although honestly it's more of a psychological dependency than any real metabolic requirement, so I guess what I really need is more motivation and fastness in my diet, which is the very thing I lack in my art, therefore making this mental monologue but a procrastinatory exercise and nothing more than a complete waste of . . . Oh, you're still there. Anyhoo. But I might be getting some help in all this, in the shape of a joyful, smiling, hearty kick in my cybernetic backside which is quite a bit smaller than my actual backside, even in terms of data storage. I suggested that Michelle create a profile on Writing-Dot-Com, which she actually did as I stood there behind her, not quite knowing even what this site is or what it requires of her. She just did what was suggested, a fine display of her unwavering trust in me. Rather misplaced trust, I fear; I mean, I am urging her to read A Song of Ice and Fire, even after every it has done to me. But now that she is on here, I will have a very real motivator who will get on my case about writing. I welcome it, I encourage it, I freaking need it. So hopefully I will actually do more on this site, even if it is very small. And Michelle, if you are reading this, PLEASE kick my ass into gear if I am slouching. It's hard to punch through all the crazy I deal with on a day-to-day basis, but maybe with help I can stop being neurotic and actually do something worthy of my childhood aspirations. |
| I had forgotten how relaxing doodling can be. Mentoring was so stressful and distressing yesterday that I had no idea how I would cope with it today. I took a page from Roger's book and sat back while Katie worked, mostly letting her handle things and trying to trust her. I still felt anxious, as if every blink or yawn or look away from the screen would lead inevitably to a critical error for which I would be held responsible. I could not stay my foot from bouncing, or my nails from tapping, and I have no doubt that it didn't help Katie feel at ease; when faced with traditional signs of disapproval, what can one infer other than that the person making the motion is displeased? Not only that, but the actions of anxiety just made me feel more anxious. To keep my hands busy, I flipped to some early pages in my trusty note pad and tried drawing a bit. The faces I drew were pretty awful, but I drew a nice pear and shaded it fairly well. I couldn't think of anything else to draw, so I just started doodling a random tree of swirls. I entertained myself for the five hours I sat with Katie thusly. I found it quite calming - it did not take up too much of my attention, so I was able to listen to the calls and keep one eye on Katie's computer to make sure everything was going smoothly, but it occupied my mind enough that I didn't think too much about all the ways I could screw up the training, and best of all, I was not completely bored. The evening actually went by fairly quickly. I think I will take my notebook to work tomorrow, just in case I am mentoring again. Maybe some stream of consciousness writing will be good for me. I would use the notepad from work, but I'm running out of pages, and Dell has not ordered any more yet. I gotta have my scratch paper for work, after all, unless I want to spend every call running to the boards over and over to see what time slots are still available. |
| I've decided that I am the last person new hires should sit with for training. I'm just not very good at it. I'm too impatient, I'm too nervous, and I'm something of a control freak. For example, I got very anxious when Leonard was taking what felt like an eternity to administer a questionnaire. Just the long pauses, and the stupid "Okay, I'm just looking over what we have in our system," over and over, which sounds like he doesn't know what he's doing, it drives me mad. The worst was when some lady in Illinois called our number because she was scheduled to finish up some kind of survey, but the building was locked up tight. I told him several times to let her know that the number she called was for the Richmond COC, and that we have no connection with any group in Illinois, but he just stumbled through it and kept up with the whole, "Okay, I'm just going through our system." I asked him if he wanted me to talk to her. He ignored me. She kept going on and on about how she googled the Consumer Opinion Center, and our number was the one that came up, and that we must have some kind of corporate number. I told him that we don't have any kind of number like that, but he kept on and on. I tried so many times to get him to switch the call over to me, but I was ignored. I finally got fed up and told him to tell the woman he was going to put her on a brief hold. Know what I finally found out? She was taking part in a Pampers study. Pampers, as in the diapers. I was finally able to tell her that we only do tobacco research, in Richmond, and that the number she called in only for our call center. And of course the idiot didn't go into Not Ready, even though I had been telling him that all day. I shouldn't call him an idiot. It just hurts watching him use a computer. He had two tabs up for both questionnaires, and while taking one participant through the questionnaire for the cigar study, he kept (and I mean EVERY FUCKING TIME) clicking the tab for the OTHER study's questionnaire first, and THEN realized that he wanted the second tab. It just freaks me out watching people who can't maneuver through a computer. I am still suffering from the effects of migraines, so I already felt faint and shaky. The whole thing pitched me into a total anxiety attack. Thankfully Unya took over. I spent most of the rest of the day sitting in inbound just trying to calm the hell down. Oh yeah: he doesn't listen to the participants either. They'll tell him that they want to change an appointment to 3:30pm, and he'll read off every available time. Katie was even worse. I had her sitting with me while I took a few calls. For one call, she argued that the guy was articulate. He started out articulate, and then ended by mumbling something about money and stocks taking off. I decided not to take him. It IS on us if we screw up, after all, and I made a judgment call. Then I had a lady who, while going over her profile, said that her primary cigar flavor is Regular. We get into the questionnaire, and for one thing she said that in addition to cigarettes, cigars, and e-cigs, she uses dip, SNUS, and snuff . . . all three. But guess what? She doesn't know what "cut" means. I don't think a dipper would fail to notice that it comes in distinctive cuts; I'm not even sure you could purchase dip without stating the cut you want - the clerk would laugh you out of the store. So yeah, my defenses were up, and when it came time to ask her preferred flavor of Black and Mild, instead of verifying that it is the regular, I just asked her what flavor she gets most often. Her response: "I like the Wine." So, DQ, right? After all, we have to take the first answer (although I myself give them a chance to correct themselves most of the time). Well Katie asked why she failed, and when I told her it was because the woman said wine was her preferred flavor, and not the regular, she claimed that the lady clearly said that she uses regular. Look, I may hate the job, but I know it. The woman said wine was her primary flavor when she took the questionnaire. As further proof, when I asked if she smoked any other brands of cigar (mind you, I said "brands," not "flavors") she said she also smokes regular-flavored Black and Milds. I tried to explain that what is said in the questionnaire is what we have to go with, and she responded, in a rather passive-aggressive tone, "Well, I guess I was just hearing something else then." I admit, I showed my anger. I told her if she didn't like it she could go tell Wanda. I just do not have any degree of patience, especially when I'm dealing with these bizarre neurological effects. So yeah. I should just never ever mentor a new hire. Ever. I suck at it, and it just makes me miserable. |
| I always feel hungry these days. Always. When I first moved to Richmond, finishing a footlong sub was unthinkable; I'd eat half and save the rest for the next meal. Now I down the whole thing (admittedly, it takes me over an hour to do so; I like to eat slowly). For dinner tonight I settled for one of my tiny microwave sides, the cheddar potato bake. Even before I was half done with it, I was planning on what to eat next to fill out the whole meal. I didn't eat for a couple of hours after finishing it. Partly, I want to get control over my appetite, but a lot of my decision was based on how the guys downstairs would see me if I made two completely different things for dinner. I'm hiding my eating habits like an alcoholic hides wine bottles. I caved and went for some spaghetti about half an hour ago. There was far more pasta than I thought there was, so I saved half of it for later. I guess that's a good sign. What sucks is, I've had a dense potato dish, and a small serving of spaghetti with chunky tomato sauce (with a little ground beef thrown in), and I still feel that fuzzy, approaching-hunger feeling in my stomach. I want to eat. I really want to eat. God I hope this isn't an addiction. Odd how much I want more food right now. I had a blast of nausea at work today. I took a Vicodin (or "Lortab" as they're calling it these days) to fight off this damn migraine I've had for a week, and I guess it had been too long since my bowl of cereal this morning, because I was beyond sick. It hit me so hard and fast I'm surprised it didn't blow a hole through my abdomen. I made it to the bathroom in a nice upright position, but I have to admit THAT was a struggle. I wanted to collapse when I was two feet out of the glass. I wanted to just sink to the floor, curl up, and wait to die. It was a nightmare. I managed to pull my hair back, lock the stall door, and brace myself over the toilet. I only heaved a few times, and very little came up, even though I was helping (two fingers does the trick when you've got to get the poison out). I broke out into a cold sweat. I could feel my shirt and slip starting to adhere to my body from the moisture, and my thighs felt clammy where they were touching each other. I couldn't even keep my head up enough to prevent the auto-flush; I just rested my arms on the seat (who cares, the only part of the human body that touches the toilet seat in a women's bathroom is covered by clothing 23 and a half hours a day) and had my forehead laying on my forearms. It was creepy just feeling all the heat escape from my head. I thought I was going to be in there for a long time. I thought I was going to have to wait for someone else to enter the restroom so I could ask them to get me my phone so I could call Will to pick me up. I thought that they would call the EMTs and rush me to the hospital.Thankfully, after heaving a bit, I started to feel better, and was back at my desk less than nine minutes after turning off my phone for the break. I still felt like shit for most of the day, won't lie, but I handled it and have felt mostly normal since about 1pm or so. Now I just need to see if I can sleep tonight. It has not been the easiest thing to accomplish these days. |
| I've been drinking a great deal of water today, glass after glass. I'm not urinating as much as I expected, but maybe the fluid is still being processed. I'm trying to reap the health benefits of drinking high quantities of water, not least of which is reduced appetite. I've also heard it's great for the complexion, and I'm already seeing a number of fine lines across my face. If those could be filled in by the constant drinking of water, I'd feel slightly less like I am aging out of control. Apparently drinking at least three liters of water per day can also reduce cellulite. I hope so. I've been fighting with my butt and thighs since 7th grade, and while I'm okay with being bottom-heavy, I've still never grown to even begrudgingly accept the cellulite. I guess I can deal with it, but I'll jump at the chance to reduce the appearance of the pitting and dimples. I also want to move some of this extra fluid along. I had my period last week, and the bloating started a good week before that, and still hasn't diminished significantly. Hopefully some of the extra thigh-fat is due to water retention as well. I would love to be able to wear pants once winter comes around. It's just so hard to find pants that fit properly. By properly I also mean pants that don't look ridiculous on my body. I've drained most of this glass here already. Ice water, to boost my metabolism. I really want to break out the screwdriver supplies, but it feels a bit too early to drink. I do want to drink, at least to try and make myself work. I was going to work yesterday, but the migraine came back and I ended up sleeping from 5pm to 8. Wasted Saturdays, the story of my adult life. So I will content myself with this blog entry. It wasn't really thought out, I'm just kind of typing what's occupying some of my thoughts today. Maybe if I just write random, semi-coherent snippets and thoughts, I'll start finding words again. My brain just feels so empty, so completely barren. Maybe I should do what half the writers in my Gallery of Horror anthology and write about the torment of having nothing to write. I have to urinate, only the second time since I started on this regimen. Hopefully I see some results from this kinda-diet-thing in the next week or so. Wish me luck. |
| Has it really been six months since I last gave a damn about Writing-Dot-Com? Wow. Time is moving too quickly for my comfort. Anyhoo, just a brief update: Will got the job at Celerion, but didn't pass the probationary period. No big loss, because he got a job at 3 Guys Pizza with Dustin (who randomly quit one day), and then at Alamo Barbeque. 3 Guys closed down, but Alamo is hinting that Will will get full time hours soon, and he loves working there. Gluecoma is currently recording for their first demo album, and I'm really excited for them. Will is also doing a side project with Dustin called Custom Chicken (gotta love that name) and has a bunch of people practically stalking him asking for his aid in other projects. Terri left Celerion, and Arthur took the full time position, leaving the PT-30 slot open. I applied and got my first promotion. I'm still only making about two-thirds of my IRS salary, but I am stable and halfway content. I do want to find a better job, because the call center has been a total clusterfuck lately. I can't believe Ayana hasn't had a breakdown yet. The study leaders are really pushing our patience, and I won't be surprised if Roger, Arthur, and possibly Ruth and Unya just walk out in disgust. Michelle finally moved out of her dad's place. She is rooming with Jackie from MapCom now, and she's so much happier. I am glad she is free. That was NOT a good place to be. The Zoloft has been working wonders, and even though I still feel exhausted a lot, I'm not dealing with the chaos and the thoughts anymore. I'm quite okay with my life, and even though I know it can be improved with a better job (and perhaps a pretty ring), I am at peace. So, here I am, at just past 1pm, updating my blog for the first time in half a year. I've been up since ten, which is definitely a good sign right there. I still get migraines pretty frequently, and I'm starting to think these are actually cluster headaches, and my digestion could be a little better, but for the most part my health seems all right. I'm hoping this year will continue to be good. |
| Hmmmm. I may have a sickness coming on. Never mind that my sinuses are the clearest they've been in days, and that I actually slept last night. Nope, I feel slightly icky, which could either be due to pre-menstrual hormonal changes, or to a viral infection. I had better make up my mind what it is quickly, because Will is picking me up right after work to head to the Shore for the weekend. I'll finally get to meet Donovan, since Will is going to travel up to Maryland to visit him. Matt is in prison, and it could be for a while. He's been acting crazy for about a week now, speaking gibberish and acting very erratically. He threw a bike pump at Sean a few days ago, and before that said something to the effect of, "Now that the election is over I am going to leave the door open." Sean was worried about cocaine. My fears are that his marijuana use has triggered schizophrenia or some other psychosis. It could also be meth. I hope the cops find out what's up with him. They arrested him for disorderly conduct, and found an ounce of weed on him. That is not a small amount, and I think he's getting hit with a possession with intent to distribute charge. If so, he may be looking at a felony. I hope Sean will be okay, both with the rent and his brother's arrest and issues. |
| I found my hoodie! My layer is not lost! It was in the pile of "random shoes and clothing" by the front door. I'm pretty annoyed by this, because I've made no secret of wearing that hoodie around the house, so they should have known it was a claimed garment and not something some random person left behind. Ah well. At least I found it before they sent it to Goodwill. |
| I regret to admit that I seem to have lost my black GMU sweatshirt. I haven't the faintest idea where I could have left it. All I can say is that it's not in my room. Unless it's well-hidden somewhere in the house, it's probably gone for good. I am annoyed, as it was convenient and warm, but I will live. |
| I seem to have covered the entire spectrum (apart from the ugly colors or those hard to read), so I'll go back to choosing whatever font color seems pretty or fun or particularly striking at the time. Another update from work. I've been doing outbound calls for the e-cig study, but now I am free to sit in inbound and deal with the calls that continue to drop, not to mention talk to the people who are angry because their checks haven't shown up yet. Sorry, folks, but you know damn well we can't do anything about missing checks until it has been two weeks since the issue date. It's really cold in here. I'm going to have to start stashing my ugly sweater at work, since my coat is too bulky to wear at my desk. Now I know how Ayana felt all those days training me in my little dark corner. I can't imagine how she feels now! NaNoWriMo has been a disaster so far. I've written a couple of words in Cube and haven't even opened the other stories. I decided last night that I'll begin a new novel, but I'm coming up empty, even for the kick ass idea I'd only dreamed of writing. I just can't seem to make my fingers work, or put words together in my head. It's like my muse has completely dried up. I've got nothing. I honestly have nothing. Maybe if I type nonsense or stream of consciousness I'll be able to come up with something kind of storyish, but even that seems impossible. Oh well. I guess I'll try again tonight. On a happier note, YouTube has a shit-ton of awesome full-length movies. Last night I watched "Alucarda" and "Faces of Death" (please don't call the police, dear readers). "Faces of Death" was more or less silly. Some of the footage was graphic, I guess, but it's all just stock footage, and the narration trying to be profound and philosophical almost makes it all seem like satire. My favorite part is the obviously faked scene with the "medium" speaking in the voice of a man's dead wife and child. The guy's vocal reactions were okay, but his acting coach needs to remind him that your body is supposed to show surprise, joy, and anguish as well. "Alucarda" was much better. After seeing the Cinema Snob's review a while back, I wasn't expecting anything really all that great, but I actually loved it. A whoooooole lot of screaming, but overall it kicked ass. Good acting, great sets, and even though we don't know who or what Alucarda's mother feared at the beginning, and whether it was the same entity that possessed the girl, the story is solid. My only concern is why all the nuns' habits looked like they had suffered terrible miscarriages and decided not to change clothes. Maybe it's supposed to be menstrual flow? However the big red stain is only on the front of the skirt, not the back, and these ladies have to sit sometime. No idea. Their whole getup looks blood-spattered. I am very hungry. Good thing I still have a granola bar in my bag. |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
That's what editing is for.
