open letter to roo roo

Amanda's recent post about not being able to write immediately made me think of this meme that I found a long time ago. In May 2008 I started writing this post about not being able to write, and intended to answer all the questions in the meme to get my creative writing juices flowing. And then I never did. Aaaanyways, now I'm posting it without my answers to my good buddy Roo Roo. May my failure as a writer inspire the crap out of you, or somebody. Or nobody. As we say in France, disfruta:

In the interest of "writing" I have spent the past hour at work not working, but rather wandering the internet looking for writing tips. I came across some interesting writing exercises that are supposed to cure writer's block. I guess the idea is similar to warm-up exercises in sports or drawing or music - like playing the scales or stretching the muscles. Some people say the hardest part of writing is coming up with a topic (which is what these exercises address).

I believe the hardest part is starting to write. I guess the exercises also help the writer start to write, because writing about some random topic that doesn't really matter to you is way easier than writing about something you find important. I always feel like the reason I can't write is the fear that I might mess it up. It's easy enough to go back and edit something you've already started, but the thought of starting is sometimes too...weighty, or something.

Anyhow, here's the single solitary writing exercise I found that isn't meant for writers of fiction:

1. Do you outline?

2. Do you write straight through a book, or do you sometimes tackle the chapters out of order?

3. Do you know how a book is going to end when you start it?

4. Where do you write?

5. What do you do when you get writer's block?

6. What size increments do you write in (either in terms of wordcount, or as a percentage of the book as a whole)?

7. How many different drafts did you write for your last project?

8. Do you let anyone read your book while you're working on it, or do you wait until you've completed a draft before letting someone else see it?

9. What do you do to celebrate when you finish a draft?

10. One project at a time, or multiple projects at once?

11. Do your books grow or shrink in revision?

12. Do you have any writing or critique partners?

13. Do you prefer drafting or revising?

14. What are your favorite writing books?

15. Morning writer, evening writer, or doesn't matter?

16. How do you handle reviews?

17. How do you handle rejection?

18. Do you prefer to work on writing by yourself? Or do you prefer collaborating?

19. Able to work on airplanes?

20. Have you ever abandoned a book or an article that you had finished? When? Why?

21. What writing advice do you really believe in?

fyi

I am alive. Mostly.

I am now a teacher, a shaper of young minds and whatnot. I have never worked this hard in my life.

I want to keep up with blogging because a lot of fascinating things happen to me on a day to day basis, but I barely have time to brush my teeth anymore. When I'm not teaching, I'm thinking about teaching or planning what I'll teach the next day, or the next class, or the next minute. And when I'm not doing that I'm going to department meetings or meeting with my kids' SPED liaisons to figure out how I can simultaneously teach 15 different classes. And when I'm not doing that I'm trying to find things to wear to school that are appropriate yet not so lame that the kids will make fun of me. And when I'm not doing that I'm spending trillions of dollars on school supplies. And when I'm not doing that I'm spending trillions of dollars on my car. And when all that is done, I'm left with about 4 hours every day, during which I sleep like I have never slept before.

But here are a few choice tidbits to tide you over until I can sit down and write for a while:

Me: Please take out your books and turn to page 10.
Student: Yo miss, why do we have to do this?
Me: Because that's where the lesson is.
Student: Fuck this, yo.

Me: Please take out your books and turn to page 10.
Student: Yo miss, it's hot in here. Can I take my shirt off?

Me: Please take out your books and turn to page 10.
Student: I don't have my book.
Me: Where is it?
Student: Why are you always up in my FACE, yo?

Me: Please take out your books and turn to page 10.
Student: Yo miss, didn't you wear that shirt last week?

The best thing about this website is that I can spend hours on it at work, and nosy coworkers looking over my shoulder may assume I'm just making some work-related charts and graphs.
Except when I start laughing really really loud.

quotes of the day

"Don't be seduced by the precision of the numbers!"
~ guest instructor in my toxics use reduction planning course. He said this on three separate occasions during a single day of class. The quote was also prominently featured in the "Internal Rate of Return" slide of his power point presentation. The "numbers" in question include such things as "incremental cash flow," "net present value," "time value of money," and "risk-adjusted value," none of which has ever made me feel particularly seduced, no matter how precise. But the instructor's vehemence on this matter made me think that he had, possibly on more than one occasion, been seduced by the precision of the numbers, and maybe I should be careful. I've never been seduced by the precision of a number before, but I imagine if I did, I'd feel really dirty afterwards.

"Osama bin Laden has a John Edwards bumper sticker on his cave wall."
~ Bill O'Reilly. I can't even get into this one, just wanted to share it.

"I'm having surgery on my arm next week. So I'm just waiting to hear if they got that stuff in Guadalajara."
~ a guy at work, talking on the phone while I eavesdropped furiously, hoping to hear that someone I know is trafficking drugs, or even just getting some for himself. Much to my dismay it turns out he was talking about something totally boring. He's having arm surgery, so he can't go down to Guadalajara to do a lead-free manufacturing workshop that he's coordinating, but he's waiting to hear if they got the solder and parts for the demonstration. No office gossip, no fascinating shenanigans. Dammit.

"Let's make this a plagiarism-free year!"
~ graduate coordinator in an email explaining my program's plagiarism policy. This one really needs no explanation. Oh no, wait, maybe it does, considering the amount of students in my program who worked incessantly over the past two years to make my life a living hell, plagiarizing for fun and profit.

i just met my high school self, and it was depressing

lately I've had delusions of grandeur involving me writing a lengthy blog post that encompasses all the stuff that's been going on for the past few weeks. that's not going to happen, and I'm in a hurry to share this gem I just found upon rediscovering my TI-86 (more later on why I've been forced to rediscover it...)

:yO.ANN.YOU.SHOULD.LI
KE.USE.YOUR.BRAIN.MOR
E.AND.YOUR.TI-86.LESS
...AND.THE.ONLY.REASO
N.YOU.BEAT.ME.ON.THE.
COMBINED.SAT.IS.CAUSE
.I.HAD.SOME.IMPORTANT
.SHIT.ON.MY.MIND...

I thought that was just hilarious, for the obvious reason (it's ridiculous) but also because the "use your brain more comment" was painfully true. A good 50% of the time I spent in high school chemistry and math classes was wasted in that manner, writing programs back and forth on graphing calculators. Another 25% was spent playing Tetris on the calculator. And for the final 25% of class time, I would make other programs with all the formulas and definitions that might be on the exam, e.g.:

ph=-log h+
log= -log oh-
H+=antilog(-ph)
ph+poh=14
kw=h+*oh-=1.0*10^-14
pH=pKa+log (bs/ac)

WHAT? I have no idea what ANY of that means. Antilog? Am I on crazy pills here? I feel like I'm on crazy pills here.

In college the TI-86 slept for the first three years, then I busted it out again for the single solitary science class I took to fulfill the gen ed requirements. I should have taken geology or "forensic biology" or one of those other blatantly easy courses that humanities majors took to fulfill the requirement while maintaining GPA. But I had a crappy GPA anyways, and my roommate and I thought it would be FUN to take a mechanical engineering class instead, mainly because it was twice a week in the afternoon, instead of three times a week in the morning like most science classes. We thought this would allow us to continue our debaucherous lifestyle by night while learning cool stuff about airplanes by day. HA. That was among the top five mistakes of my college career, and that's really saying a lot.

Anyways, the class was a disaster, but the subject matter provided a lot of good fodder for immature jokes about "thrust," "yaw" and "skin friction." In the TI-86 I found a ton of haiku we wrote, mostly involving the professor and the TA "inducing drag" on each other, and some junk like this:

:flaps incr camber an
d lift. roll ailerons
pitch tail chg dir
:yaw rudder
:elevator horistab
:vrot is tang to blad

WHAT? All of this was kind of fun to find again after all these years, but in a way it's extreeeemely depressing. I mean, I was writing all this in the calculator so I wouldn't have to actually "learn" it, but I did "know," albeit in the most rudimentary sense, what I was talking about. That's right, there was a time in my life when I had some concept of sine and cosine, and just a few years later I actually understood (kind of) how an airplane stayed in the air. These days, if it weren't for the many chemistry textbooks that live on my staircase, I couldn't even tell you the difference between an acid and a base.

I guess it's all relative, because back then I couldn't have told you how to say "nail polish remover contains acetone" in Spanish. I also didn't know the mortality rate of the Lowell mill girls, or the historical trajectory of computer and electronic component manufacturing employment in Essex County. But do any of those things actually matter?

I'm starting to wonder if maybe I'm spreading myself too thin over the years. Let me put it this way - I started nursery school when I was four years old. I'm now almost 26, which means I've been in school (in some capacity) for 22 consecutive years. Yet by some miracle, I'm still not an expert, or anything close to that, on any one thing. You know, that whole "little of everything and all of nothing" thing? Blech. I've learned and forgotten more information than I can fathom, probably due to the fact that I'm constantly switching gears, or the fact that I have the memory of a goldfish. Either way, the other depressing result of this is that I'm basically unqualified for any job that I might actually want.

(Yes, I have stopped "wanting" my current job.)

green journalism

I heard a story on NPR about greenwashing, the long-time bane of my existence. it almost made me want to start writing some thesis again. but anyways, one of the commentators was talking about "green journalism," and it made me think of this piece I read a long time ago by Jack Shafer, editor at Slate:

Often as sensationalistic as its yellow predecessor, green journalism tends to appeal to our emotions, exploit our fears, and pander to our vanity. It places a political agenda in front of the quest for journalistic truth and in its most demagogic forms tolerates no criticism, branding all who question it as enemies of the people. (read more)

the lord's day

I skipped church on Sunday morning and went to the laundromat, where I washed some of my own clothes but mostly rags and cleaning cloths, soaked with homemade furniture polish from our training on Thursday. While I was there my boss stopped by with presentation copies from Kinko's, which all turned out to be missing the even pages. he went back and re-did them, and we met up later for some collating and a long conversation about organizational behavior.

after a long work-related afternoon, I took BART to Emeryville to meet up with Han, a friend from college. he lives with his sister in a cute little loft, where he cooked us some awesome thai curry. besides the sandwich I ate the first day we were here, it was my first home-cooked meal, and it was amazing.

after dinner we smoked some cigarettes on the porch and I talked about the strange hatred I felt towards the tourists I'd seen on Saturday. Living on Cape Cod for so long, I feel justified in hating the tourists there, because I depended on them for income and so often they were cheap jerks. But i was kind of surprised to find myself hating tourists here too, especially since technically, I'm one of them. Han made an excellent point, that there's a difference between the tourist who comes to "observe" from the outside, and the tourist who comes to be a part of what's going on.

While I'm certainly fascinated by the things that make this place different from my hometown(s), I make it a point not to come here acting like I'm at the zoo. In fact, I hate the very idea of zoos precisely because I think it's so offensive to observe animals like that. I'm sure I don't "fit in" here, but I try not to act like local things and local people exist simply for my enjoyment. I feel like a lot of tourists are here to extract and exhaust local resources, always ethnograph-izing about the strange and exotic things they see, which because they are tourists and confine themselves to tourist attractions suggested in guidebooks, aren't even representative of wherever they are.

So anyways, we talked shit about this kind of tourist for a while, then went to a store in Berkeley called the Elephant Pharmacy, where I tried not to ogle too much, despite the fact that it was the kind of place that inspires me to think I'm not in Kansas anymore. Oh, the irony. This "pharmacy," which I gather caters to UC Berkeley students, did sell all the regular pharmacy stuff, but was mostly stocked with stuff like $80 yoga mats and hemp stationery. We got some organic blueberry newtons and raw juice "health tonic."

dia cuarta: viernes

at this point I can barely remember what i did a few minutes ago, let alone what I did on Friday. but for the sake of all of you for whom a day without my blog is like a day without the Lord, I'm going to try.

I got to sleep a little later than usual, and we went to a meeting near the Embarcadero to check out the location of our second two trainings. the lady was a half an hour late, so we pretty much saw it without her help. But then she got there and we all went out to lunch at the ferry building.

The ferry building is kind of like Quincy Market, lots of food and food-related retail. Its customers seemed to be half tourists and half people who work in the neighborhood. We got some fresh bread from the Acme Bakery (lame name, good bread) and some interesting cheese from the Cowgirl Creamery (ditto). And I got gelato.

After the meeting I decided to walk back to the hotel, which turned into an epic excursion. I stopped at a few places trying to find tarnished silver, as is my custom, and got some [relatively] cheap pants at Anthropologie. Thank GOD there aren't any of those around Lowell, or else I'd be insanely broke.

I figured since I was already on a three-hour-minimum walk, I'd veer off and take an even less direct route and ended up back in the Mission. I wandered into a bookstore where I found this little gem:














if you can't see it clearly, it's Kermit the Frog saying "modernity has not come to terms with its own technics." true, I thought, and bought a postcard of some Mexican luchadores.


I made it back to the hotel just in time for the wine social. I was pretty thirsty after my four hours of walking, and ended up polishing off an entire bottle of white wine with another guest. He was kind of a strange bird, a dude from Baltimore who was here to visit his boyfriend. At first I was talking to a couple from England who were here celebrating their anniversary, and he was kind of off to the side, chiming in occasionally but looking a little like he was off in space. After the English guys left we bonded over missing our boyfriends (his lives in SF, but it seemed like something weird was going on between them) but things got a little awkward (for me anyways) when he started talking about personal stuff like his boyfriend's blanket-stealing habits.

All of a sudden I realized it was already dark out and I'd been drinking wine since 6pm on an empty stomach. My boss called to see if I wanted to go to dinner with them but I felt a little bit beyond the point where I felt like trying to make intelligent conversation in a family setting. So I took a long walk and ended up stopping at a dark, dank diner, where much to my own surprise, I ordered a beer. They had Newcastle, which I haven't seen much here, on tap, and I just couldn't resist.

day three: thursday

morning came very, uh, early on thursday. I woke up around 4am and realized that I had fallen asleep in my street clothes, with all the lights on. I turned the lights off, changed, went back to sleep, and woke up what seemed like 5 minutes later. We headed off to the train station with even MORE supplies, schlepped everything to the conference room, and prepared for our first training.

I was a ball of f-ing nerves, so I headed downstairs to smoke a cigarette before the training started. By then my boss had already caught me smoking for the first time, so I felt OK about telling him where I was going. In a way him catching me was a blessing in disguise. I had briefly considered making my first day in SF my "quit date" and trying to go cold turkey. In fact, I suffered through the entire day on Tuesday and most of Wednesday without smoking, not wanting to let him and his wife know I smoke. But after he caught me on Thursday morning, I figured, "who am I kidding? this is one of the more stressful times in my life, and trying to hide my smoking is almost as stressful as not smoking at all." almost.

so aaaanyways, I went downstairs for a cigarette. Although we were in a pretty busy area of downtown Oakland, only two people walked by me the entire time I was smoking. Guess who those two people were? Oh yes, you guessed it, the commissioner of the SF Department of Public Health, and a woman from the American LUNG ASSOCIATION. Jesus Christ on a bike. Of course, i didn't know who they were until i got back upstairs and found my boss talking to them inside the conference room. yes, these ladies and 20 other asthma activists were participants in the training we were about to do. The training in which I had to get up in front of the room and tell people about avoiding toxics in household products that can decrease indoor air quality and trigger asthma attacks. When he introduced me to them I nearly passed out. Granted, my area of "expertise" has more to do with chemicals in cleaning products and pesticides, but I've never felt like such a huge asshole in my entire life.

Other than that embarrassing little incident, about which no one said anything, thank god, the training went fine. Everyone seemed to really respond to the make-your-own cleaning products activity, which i was excited about, because it's kind of my forte. After we lugged all the supplies back to the hotel I went on another adventure, this time to the Mission neighborhood.

As you might expect, the Mission is full of old Spanish architecture and taquerias. As you might not expect, it's also full of auto repair shops, used book stores, and hipster-y vintage clothing stores, where used clothes cost more than new clothes from regular stores. I wandered around the Mission until I got hungry/thirsty/tired, then I stopped at an amazing bakery called Tartine to sit outside for a glass (OK, maybe closer to a bottle) of red wine and a ridiculously delicious prosciutto and provolone sandwich.

I sat down next to a girl with blond dreadlocks who weighed about 75 pounds. She struck up a brief conversation with me, something that people seem to do all the time here, which I actually find really refreshing. Coming from the heart of puritanical frown-at-strangers land, it's been so nice to find that people here are genuinely friendly (and not half as pushy as they are in Boston). We were both peacefully drinking and reading our books in the sun when her obnoxiously hipster friends walked across the street from the laundromat and sat down across from me, blocking my sun and loudly fawning over the "energy" of the vintage Russian Army hat they had just bought at one of those stores I just mentioned. They were arguing over who should take the hat - one of them had bought it for herself but decided that it matched the other girl's "spirit" better. I wanted to puke. But it only got worse.

I like to think I'm an open-minded person, I do yoga (when I'm not busy smoking and drinking and eating meat) and love my neighbors and all that. But these girls pissed me off so much that had I not been completely fascinated with their vapid conversation, I would have gotten up and left. It's hard to do the experience justice through the written word, I even tried to explain it to a few people on the phone and it was impossible, you just had to be there.

A homeless and somewhat not-quite-there guy had apparently followed them from the vintage clothing store to the laundromat, and eventually found them across the street at the bakery. he came over to the table and asked them for a cigarette. I was smoking at the time and he probably thought I was with them because we were all sitting so close together, but I kind of ignored it because at the time I thought he was a friend of theirs. Instead of saying "No, sorry," they went on an interminable tirade of cutesiness, throwing out gems such as "smoking isn't sexy," "we don't kiss boys who smoke," and "why don't you go to the public library and take out a book about yoga?"

Honestly, this poor guy was just confused by their egging him on. Like I said, there was something a bit off about him, I'm not sure if he might have been a little slow, or maybe just a little mentally ill, or both. But either way, their tactics were not constructive. They kept rolling their eyes at each other, and when he would wander off to ask someone else for a cigarette, which he did several times, they would say stuff like "oh that poor lost soul, I feel so bad for him, but I wish he would just leave us alone." But every time he came back, they kept going with their quasi-flirtatiousness and led him to believe he was getting somewhere. At one point he asked for one of the girl's phone numbers and she told him "I don't have a phone," although she had been texting a minute earlier. He said he didn't either, but he used a pay phone sometimes. they laughed, and i wanted to punch them. he asked them about their parents, and one girl said her father was an astronaut, winking at the other girls. again, I felt a twinge of violence. what they were doing was cruel, not kind like they thought.

after what seemed like forever, he gave up on them and asked me if he could have the rest of my wine. I said "no, sorry," and he said OK and rode away on his bike. After he was gone, the girls practically wet themselves laughing and saying "oh my God, i can't believe you just got rid of him like that!" Then, to top it all off, one of the girls felt some remorse and confessed that she felt like they might have been messing with him. NO FUCKING SHIT, YOU DUMBASSES. The other girl said, "no, you're just so kind, but people like him need to be with other people who are on his same level." Same level? Thank GOD they got up at that point, because that was seriously the last straw and I was about to break the bottom of my wine bottle off on the pavement and assault them with it.

before they left they told me they hoped I wasn't insulted by their "smoking isn't sexy" comment, saying that they all actually smoked. Like the pleasant person I am, i said "no problem," because in the end I'm sure they were nice people, just a little misguided.

sorry for that little rant.

day one

san francisco is the dopest. I am blogging to you from the courtyard


of my fabulous (in every sense of the word) bed and breakfast in the heart of the most fabulous (again) neighborhood I've ever seen. My boss' wife and I are the only two females in the entire place. We just might be the only two females on the entire block. There's a "wine social" every afternoon in the "sunroom," which as you can see from this picture of my fabulous room, is right outside my window.

We got here a little later than planned, after the weight of the plane crushed the tow bar that was trying to pull it away from the gate. So that sucked. I tried to sleep a lot on the flight but I was sitting next to a ridiculously lovey-dovey newlywed couple who kept making loud, gross (and they thought, hilarious) sexual innuendo jokes to the male flight attendant.

After we arrived we took a taxi to the hotel but our rooms weren't ready yet so we went to have lunch with my boss' daughter-in-law and granddaughter, who is a super-cute seven month old baby. My first California food was exactly what i expected after a lifetime of absorbing stereotypes about California food... lots of fresh vegetables in weird yet attractive combinations, avocado everywhere, sourdough bread, arugula, fennel, other assorted whole-foods-yuppie things, all on plates that were so "rustic" they bordered on precious. I forgot my granola bar in the morning and slept through boxed lunch time on the plane, so I found it all incredibly delicious and ate twice my body weight in snap peas that cost $15 a pound.

Then we walked up the hugest hill I've ever seen in my life, walked down the hill, and went to the hotel where I discovered the fabulousness that is my room. I messed around for a while unpacking and whatnot, then feeling a little parched, I decided to explore the neighborhood in search of cold beer. I learned that beer, like everything else, is crazy expensive in San Francisco. After looking at the menus posted outside a dozen bars, I settled on a huge can of PBR from the Chinese grocery on the corner. It was superb. I even took it in the shower with me.

Boss and Mrs. Boss went back to their son's house for dinner, and I stayed in, or so I told them. I was really exhausted from waking up at 5am and wandering around on foot all day, but I really just needed a break from the company. I ended up taking a super long walk from the hotel to a supermarket, where I did a little research to see which green cleaning products were available. I found only one, and took a picture of it:

good stuff. It was still kind of light out, so I tried to get used to the layout of the city by taking my super long walk a little further. But my feet were KILLING ME so I headed back to the hotel, made some phone calls, and passed out before midnight.

i'm oot

I'm leaving for San Francisco tomorrow morning for three weeks of alternating business and pleasure. I'm super excited, because I've never been to California before, and super nervous, because I'll be attempting to work en español.

Depending on my ratio of boredom to stress while I'm out there, this means I'll either be blogging a lot more or a lot less than normal, which recently, hasn't been much. Anyhow, I'm going to try to at least take a lot of pictures and put them on my Flickr, if I can remember to pack my camera cord...

what is...

black and white, black and white, black and white and green?

three nuns fighting over a cucumber. I've done a lot of non-work "reading" today, some things funnier than others. First the Not Funny, lifted from Scott's blog:

A recent Pew Research Center study shows that people who watch The Colbert Report and The Daily Show correctly answered 54% of questions about current affairs, whereas viewers of regular TV news correctly answered only 35%.

I do love the Daily Show and the Colbert Report, but it still strikes me as kind of a sad state of affairs.

And now the funny, meta-funny in fact, because I found these jokes on a facebook group started by one of my old philosophy professors from college. I'm glad to see this guy and some of my other old professors are spending just as much time doing non-work as I do. I guess I really could grow up to be just like them.

From a Latin American Studies professor:

Q: How many atheists does it take to change a light bulb?

A: None: "Light bulb? What light bulb? Clearly this "light bulb" is a construct of your primitive imagination to help you cope with reality. I know this is darkness and I can deal with it. Obviously, you can't because of this light bulb delusion of yours."


From one of my Human Rights Program professors:

This cowboy is in a bar and talks about how lonely he is. "You know, it's just me and the horse out there. Now my horse is very smart, but you can really have a philosophical discussion with it. You know, you just can't put Descartes before the horse."


A seal walks into a bar and asks the bartender for a drink.

The bartender asks the seal, "What's your pleasure?"

The seal replies, "Anything but Canadian Club."

deep thoughts

• it's f-ing hot and gross
• it's been pouring rain for 15 minutes
  
• 20 minutes ago I put a bunch of clothes on the clothesline
• I'm sitting at a window from which I can see the clothesline
• again, it's pouring rain
• and it just occurred to me that I should take the clothes down
• they are already soaking wet
• I'm leaving them on the line

• I am sweating over boring power point presentations
  
• I hate work
  
• more than work itself, I hate the fact that I'm spending a Sunday catching up on work that I was supposed to do this week
• even more than that, I hate that I was expected to do this work during 4th of July week
• 4th of July is not allowed to happen on a Wednesday ever again.

• an NPR commentator just called someone a "jackass." whoa.

• I just made some clams stuffed with
• ritz cracker crumbs
• celery
• onions
• chorizo
• white wine
• cholula sauce
• butter
• and clams
• they look delicious, but it's too f-ing hot and gross to eat
  

various internets

I spend a lot of time sitting at a computer pretending to work, but others don't have that luxury. so just in time for Monday morning, I wanted to share with you, the kind taxpayers of the Commonwealth, a few of the things that have been keeping me "busy" while I'm getting paid to reduce toxics. some call it webjunk, I call it a way of life.

• Erowid: a website about drugs, "providing access to reliable, non-judgmental information about psychoactive plants and chemicals and related issues." we're talking all 'psychoactive' drugs, both plant-based and chemical, legal and illegal: alcohol, MDMA, caffeine, morning glory, cannabis, heroin, chocolate, opium, LSD, and all manner of pharmaceuticals. the stories in the experience vaults are pretty f-ing fascinating.

• Gröûp X: thanks to Mr. H for bringing to my attention the best (and probably only) fake Arabic rap group ever. The Mario twins: they look so goddamn the same, if I ask them if they want an ice cream, they BOTH say yes!

• Personal DNA: it's that colorful little box in the sidebar. You take a long-ish test (good for when you're serious about procrastinating but want to feel like you just "did" something for the past hour) and it gives you a personality analysis. Then if you're really bored, you can Psych You/Psych Me and take tests for other people. No more work, EVER!

• The Sublime Philosophical Crap Test: like the Spark tests I used to do instead of writing my undergrad thesis, the people who wrote this are pretty funny, but you get that sinking feeling that they really do know what they're talking about. They give you a painfully long analysis - the very short version of mine was: You scored 55% Non-Reductionism, 11% Epistemological Absolutism, and 100% Moral Objectivism! You are an N-S-O: a metaphysical Non-Reductionist, an epistemological Skeptic, and a moral Objectivist! yay?

emergencia!

so I just got an email from my errant boss... He's already back in town and wants to meet with me first thing Monday morning! It's all over for me. I'll be underground for the next 72 hours, and then I'll either survive Monday... or... not... it's been nice knowing you all.

micro-management

the other day I was talking to a certain human resources specialist I know, and she said that during job interviews the HR people will often ask "what type of manager do you work best with?" as someone who has never had a real job interview, that really piqued my interest. is there a "correct" answer, or are you really supposed to tell the truth?

roo roo made a good point - the "correct" answer would be to describe the management style of the potential new boss, but since the interviewee has no way of knowing the new boss' style, it's better to tell the truth. if the management is going to be so different from what you work well with, why would you want that job?

anyhow, what I found most interesting were the two categories of management she mentioned: hands-off or hands-on. I've never really had a boss as hands-off as the one I do now, and it's KILLING ME. I always thought I hated to be supervised and took it as my boss somehow doubting me. however, now I'm seeing that 'management' is a two-way street. when no one is around to watch me, when I don't have to check in and report my progress, I just don't do anything.

I got this job just a few weeks ago, and due to that whole cubicle incident I have been doing most of my 'working' outside the office. most days I hang out with Homero in Patty's office, talk about Mexican soap operas, and consider it work because we are speaking Spanish. then yesterday he had to go out in the field and collect samples, so I was left alone in the office. for the first time in weeks, I actually WORKED. it was crazy, I don't even know what came over me. but don't worry, it only lasted for about 20 minutes.

today I came to my actual office and assumed my position in the cubicle. it's actually not that bad - there is AC, unlike in Homero's office, and my desk is high enough that I can cross my legs under it, which is pretty much all I want out of life. but the atmosphere here is very different from anywhere I've ever worked before - it's SILENT. you could hear a pin drop in here. at first I thought maybe a lot of people were out today, but I took a walk around and saw that there are at least 25 people in the office, but no one talks to each other!

in the office where I worked last summer, it was nearly impossible to get anything done because everyone was constantly chatting - and not about work, not even a little. that place was a total zoo, there were always students coming and going, people having meetings in any spot they felt like it, visitors from out of town who had to be introduced to every single person who worked there, etc. in particular, my office roommate was addicted to the conversational arts. his entire job consisted of talking on the phone to people, networking and finding jobs for students, and any time he wasn't on the phone he was chatting with me... or having visitors, such as the Vietnam vet/talk radio personality/masseuse, who went by "David the Painkiller," and stopped by frequently to sing us his latest tragicomic social commentary song. he was the man.

but I digress. I'm trying to get to the whole micromanagement thing, but my ADD is off the charts lately. (ironic?) so I was messing around on myspace and my boss' secretary walked by... I felt a little twinge of "oh crap, I'm supposed to be working." so I did work, for nearly an HOUR. it was awesome. and it made me realize that the very thought of a boss-type being around is enough to make me work. this whole "I have a boss, in the abstract sense, but he doesn't give a shit what I do or where I am, and also he's abroad for a month" really isn't what I need to be productive. I honestly do need someone looking over my shoulder. not necessarily like "telling me do do stuff" or anything like that, oh no. but existing, yes, and being present, yes.

i got sick of that after a while and returned to Homero's office where I can blog and otherwise procrastinate in peace. my conclusions: I enjoy being in an office where I talk to people all day, but I don't get anything done. I can only work, however, under circumstances of complete silence and oppressive micromanagement. so, I have no choice but to admit what has been obvious to everyone else for a long time: I'm not cut out for "work." It's true, a "job," no matter how you slice it, is simply not the best use of my time.

if you'll excuse me, I have to go have some drinks downtown with my RESD peeps. it's been a long day here at the office.

"work"

so here I am, on a beautiful and sunny Friday afternoon, at "work," in my "office," wearing my "shoes." this BLOWS. there's good news though - when I got to work today no one tried to move me to a different location, plus I now have my very own PHONE and MAILBOX. yes, i have truly arrived. then my boss' assistant, who is quite possibly the only nice person in the entire place, showed me how to use the fax machine and the copier. believe it or not I was already familiar with those devices, but it was sweet of her anyways. everyone else in the office kind of looks at me like "who the fuck is that" but no one actually introduces themselves, so their loss, they'll never know who I am and why I'm the awesomest.

anyhow, having my own mailbox really gave me the sense of permanence I needed to feel comfortable at work. comfortable enough, anyways, to sit there for a few minutes, take off my sensible shoes under my desk, fill out my hours for the week, and leave. I'm in my other adopted office now, which belongs to Patty. her office is way nicer, it's painted in soothing tones and Homero is right next to me so I can pester him endlessly with translation issues. today we went over guinea pigs, which in case you were wondering, are NOT delicious.

in lieu of actually working, I have been messing around with pandora a lot today. in addition to being a good way to listen to music from anywhere, it's a really cool idea. it's based on something they call the Music Genome Project, which identifies "traits" of songs or artists you tell it you like. then it finds and plays other music that shares similar characteristics. for example, I'm currently listening to my 'Born Under Punches Station.' I told it I liked the Talking Heads song 'Born Under Punches,' and right now it's playing a song called 'Thieves Like Us' by New Order, according to them "because it features electronica influences, extensive vamping, groove-based composition, a dynamic male vocalist..." so when it picks a song you like (or don't like) you tell it, and it gradually modifies the content of the "station" according to what it thinks you're telling it. get it? i'm pretty obsessed with it as a way to discover new music. this thing always plays songs I otherwise wouldn't ever hear, and it's pretty fascinating to explore all the trait categories they use. apparently I'm a huge fan of 'vamping.' who knew?

orbit mint mojito gum

don't buy it. it's gross. alcohol-flavored gum shouldn't exist. also, mojitos are "mint" by definition, so the flavor name is redundant. orbit, you suck. why do you make your gum pieces so large and cumbersome, so that I have to rip them in half, and constantly have half-pieces of gum floating around the bottom of my purse, with nasty debris stuck to them, that I eat anyways because I refuse to waste gum? why, orbit?

but Patty gave me the gum, and she's the shit. she dropped by my porch today with iced coffee and vanilla kreme donuts. a pleasant surprise, and just what the doctor ordered after my long day of "work."

dispatch from tha fahkin gahdin

it's true, I'm hollering at you from my back yard, can you sense the outdoorsiness? I just set up a little office out here consisting of a chaise lounge, beach towel, water bottle, and my cell phone. You know, in case I need to make any important business calls. So far, things are progressing nicely in my newly appointed zone of productivity. I just hope my little old lady neighbors don't come out to do any gardening, because I look like kind of a weirdo out here. Kind of.

so today was supposed to be my first day of work at a new job. I'd tell you who I'm working for but that would violate my self-imposed rule of Extreme Blog Anonymity. Anyhow, I met with my new boss last week and he gave me a bitchload of things to get started on and told me to show up at the office Monday morning (today) to get settled. I spent an hour this morning trying to read all the stuff I was supposed to be perusing over the weekend, then got myself all stressed out trying to figure out what to wear. i read an article in Cosmo yesterday (I swear I do NOT have a subscription to Cosmo, this was a momentary lapse of reason at the supermarket checkout.) so the article said that flip-flops are always inappropriate for the office. I didn't know that. I panicked. I don't own any summer shoes that aren't flip-flops. So I wore flip-flops anyways, and prepared to be judged.

I called the dude on my way in, because the building houses a nuclear reactor and you need a code to get in. Don't worry, my job has absolutely nothing to do with nuclear research. We'll all live to see another day. So the dude was not there, but rather getting his car fixed, and asked me to "refresh his memory" on why we were even meeting. Sweet. It appears this guy is a little different from some bosses I've had in the past. Some people like to keep a tight leash on their grad students and know where they are at all times, preferably within the bosses' line of sight, in case there's an extremely tedious and/or annoying task that needs doing.

This guy would be at the other extreme - he told me I can pretty much do whatever I want as long as the work gets done. While this is good on sunny days like today when I want to be in my outdoor office, or pretending to work when I'm actually at the beach, it's kind of a bad thing in general for someone like me. I tend to be pretty horrible at accomplishing things even when I'm two feet away from whoever I'm working with. I have a feeling I'm going to be doing a lot of procrastinating all week long then doing all of my hours at once in an overnight work extravaganza right before my meetings with him.

Eventually I did go over to the office, met some people, and saw the little grad student containment area. It actually has a window, with a stunning view of the student parking lot. Not as awesome as my outdoor office, but I think I saw a water cooler. Free water is the dopest.

So I decided to call it a day around 1pm, and made the rounds distracting people I know who work on that side of campus. When I got home I toyed with the idea of doing work, but decided it was more important to search for the sunniest spot on the property. A true grad student never quits researching. My findings: the front porch only gets sun in the late afternoon, the side porch only gets sun in the early morning, and the whole climbing-out-the-attic-window-to-sit-on-the-roof thing just seemed like a recipe for disaster.

Speaking of disasters and findings, my thesis isn't happening right now, so if people could just go ahead and stop asking me how it's going, that would be grrrrrreat. I saw a girl from my department today, she was holding that coveted box of watermarked paper, on her way to hand it in to the librarian. I felt a fleeting twinge of motivation to do something with my own thesis, but it was immediately replaced by "who the fuck am I kidding?" I didn't even consider going to get the transcribing machine, it just seemed way more important to work on my tan. And those are my priorities for the next few weeks.

Other than that, things are going well. The no-income thing hasn't been as bad as I thought it would be; my tax return only lasted a few days but two friends just moved away and left me an inordinate amount of free crap. I've been eating a lot of ice cream lately, but I've also been going to the gym. A few of you got introduced to (i.e. forced to feel) my guns on Saturday night, and my rock-hard abs should be ready for peer review in another week or five. Speaking of Saturday night, I'm never starting drinking at 6pm again.

riddle me this

why do people keep asking me what I'm going to do when school is over? I have two obligations a week: class on Thursday nights from 6-9 and a meeting with my professor/boss on Tuesday afternoons. That means I have a total of five structured hours per week. Most people have five times that much structure. Anyhow, the point is, I don't "do" anything now, what's going to change once school ends?