Ahh . . .
A short moment of respite from the ongoing madness of Planet Work. (I'm not really here, you know. I just took Nienke's advice and stepped inside the holodeck for a few moments. I'm still stuck beneath the shitstorm!)
I've been training and troubleshooting non-stop for two weeks now, with one more (at least!) still to go. In early, and home late every night. Good thing is: the training is going well so far and the rollout (May 8th) is looking good. After that I should be back to some type of normalcy in my lfe (I hope!)
Good things: yesterday was "Bring Your Rug-Rat To Work Day" so I brought my son along. It was very cool. Having him there made the day more fun and he had a really good time. He's (sadly) impressed by what I do for a living. He learned all about surveying, civil engineering, and CAD work yesterday and he enjoyed it. It's a very cool feeling to know your kid appreciates what you do.
Other good things: well, one good and one sort-of good . . . The sort of good was that I got a reply from my last partial request on "Slayer". It was a rejection, but it was a personalized one with some really nice comments from a big-name agent, so that wasn't too bad. The actual "good" news is that I recieved another request for a partial from the agent at the very tip-top of my dream list! How cool is that? (well, not nearly as cool as her taking me on I guesss, but still pretty damn cool on the "wannabe" meter!) I'm dropping the partial in the mail after work today so think some good thoughts at me, will ya?
Actual writing work is still on hold until the shitstorm passes but I am trying to do a little editing (very little to be honest) which is all I have the energy for at the moment. Who knows? Maybe the break will be a good thing for me. Do Muses need vacations? Don't know, but mine's getting one wether she wants it or not. (Yea, I know it's odd for a guy to identify with a female muse but if you're just figuring out that I'm odd, you haven't been reading this blog very carefully, now have you?)
Anyway, the power from my tricorder is fading and the holodeck image is starting to sputter. Seems like it's time to get back out into the shitstorm again . . .
Later!
Friday, April 28, 2006
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
Storm Trek II: The Wrath of Work
Captain's Log: Supplemental
I am saving this entry as a single message that I hope to boost for transmission through the shit-o-sphere by using the electomagnetic energy from one of the intermittent -and all too brief- solar flares that are strong enough to be evident here on Planet Work.
The strange weakening effect of the planet continues. I find that my shoulder and neck muscles are constantly cramped and a continuous, pulsing, headache is the only companion I have found on this depressing and desolate world. Luckily, I found a cache of coffee and some strange food source called "Donuts" in a hermetically sealed canister from the mid 21st century shortly after I landed here, so I have not starved. I have been subsisting on these and find they are an excellent source of quick energy, though a strange side effect of eating them seems to be a shrinking of my spandex black and yellow Captain's uniform . . .
I recieved a partial message from my crew, albeit distorted by the shitstorm. they are coming for me but even at maximum Warp, rescue is still two weeks away. I'll have to hang on til then. I'll devour my coffee and donuts, struggle against the weariness and my ever-shrinking uniform, and hold long discussions with my headache over the nature of the infinite. Sadly, my headache seems more intelligent than I am and almost always wins these debates.
The solar flare is fading quickly and I'm losing sig . . . <garbled> . . . back to my crew as <garbled> . . . ossible.
<transmission lost>
I am saving this entry as a single message that I hope to boost for transmission through the shit-o-sphere by using the electomagnetic energy from one of the intermittent -and all too brief- solar flares that are strong enough to be evident here on Planet Work.
The strange weakening effect of the planet continues. I find that my shoulder and neck muscles are constantly cramped and a continuous, pulsing, headache is the only companion I have found on this depressing and desolate world. Luckily, I found a cache of coffee and some strange food source called "Donuts" in a hermetically sealed canister from the mid 21st century shortly after I landed here, so I have not starved. I have been subsisting on these and find they are an excellent source of quick energy, though a strange side effect of eating them seems to be a shrinking of my spandex black and yellow Captain's uniform . . .
I recieved a partial message from my crew, albeit distorted by the shitstorm. they are coming for me but even at maximum Warp, rescue is still two weeks away. I'll have to hang on til then. I'll devour my coffee and donuts, struggle against the weariness and my ever-shrinking uniform, and hold long discussions with my headache over the nature of the infinite. Sadly, my headache seems more intelligent than I am and almost always wins these debates.
The solar flare is fading quickly and I'm losing sig . . . <garbled> . . . back to my crew as <garbled> . . . ossible.
<transmission lost>
Thursday, April 20, 2006
Storm Trek
CAPTAIN'S LOG: STORMDATE TWO-ZERO-ZERO-SIX, ZERO-FOUR point TWO-ZERO . . .
I am using my tricorder to boost this signal beyond the shitstorm barrier under which I am still trapped. The brooding cloud cover of the storm is acting as some type of ionic barrier, preventing communication with my crew and leaving me stranded on this hell-planet called "Work". Work has some type of mysterious . . . draining effect, that has absorbed almost all my remaining energy so this signal will be -of necessity- short.
I don't know who -if anyone- will receive this message but if you do, be assured that I am alive and have not yet given up hope of being rescued from the dangerous effects of the shitstorm. I have to believe the storm must fade at some point and my crew will find a way to rescue me. I refuse to <garbled> . . . ender! I am Jame . . . <garbled> . . . ger! <garbled> . . .urvive! I will! I . . .
<transmission lost>
I am using my tricorder to boost this signal beyond the shitstorm barrier under which I am still trapped. The brooding cloud cover of the storm is acting as some type of ionic barrier, preventing communication with my crew and leaving me stranded on this hell-planet called "Work". Work has some type of mysterious . . . draining effect, that has absorbed almost all my remaining energy so this signal will be -of necessity- short.
I don't know who -if anyone- will receive this message but if you do, be assured that I am alive and have not yet given up hope of being rescued from the dangerous effects of the shitstorm. I have to believe the storm must fade at some point and my crew will find a way to rescue me. I refuse to <garbled> . . . ender! I am Jame . . . <garbled> . . . ger! <garbled> . . .urvive! I will! I . . .
<transmission lost>
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
Stray Thoughts
Just listening to "Parents Just Don't Understand" by Fresh Prince (aka Will Smith) and D.J. Jazzy Jeff. Damn, talk about a song to make you feel old! I remember laughing my ass off watching that video and he was just a punk 17 year old kid. Now he's Mr. Hollywood and married to one of the hottest women on the planet . . . I bet his parent's are understandin' their asses off now!
So, still crazy at work (though the hate calls have finally stopped!) but I caught a few minutes to take a breath and post. Heading to a funeral service when I get home tonight. It sucks, because the family member who passed was a genuinely nice guy. It always seems the good ones go early and the assholes linger forever. My mom likes to say: "God calls home the ones he loves best, soonest". I translate that as: God hates assholes too and don't want 'em around him any longer than necessary! (that's just me of course, I'm all warm and fuzzy that way.)
Out shopping for furniture last night (wishful thinking on our part that the house will be done soon!) and I came to the realization that The Wife and I agree on nothing. (I know: I've shocked you again, haven't I?) We looked at a dozen couches and the ones I hated she loved. The ones I loathed, she adored. Standing there in that furniture store, I had a realization about life, relationships, and the nature of humanity. I realized something about women that had escaped me until that moment of epiphany . . .
You all have terrible taste!
Well, at least it doesn't coincide with anything that a man would consider "taste"! The difference is in thought process. I'm busy looking for what will be practical (wide enough for my fat ass to lay out on) durable (the salsa I drip on it wipes off) and attractive (it ain't got no pukey-lookin' flower crap all over it) The Wife disregards all these criteria for the twisted concept of "Coordination" (The chartruse of the swag matches the mauve couplets of the duvet . . . Whatever the hell THAT means!) Everything must match everything else. The very thought makes my poor brain ache. How about the concept of: it don't look like crap and it's comfortable as hell?
Must be a man thing.
Anyway, still no writing work done. I promise I'll be back on a regular schedule starting next week. (No, really! Hey! I've warned you before about laughing at the blogger, haven't I? Don't make me get all medevial on your readerly ass!)
Later!
So, still crazy at work (though the hate calls have finally stopped!) but I caught a few minutes to take a breath and post. Heading to a funeral service when I get home tonight. It sucks, because the family member who passed was a genuinely nice guy. It always seems the good ones go early and the assholes linger forever. My mom likes to say: "God calls home the ones he loves best, soonest". I translate that as: God hates assholes too and don't want 'em around him any longer than necessary! (that's just me of course, I'm all warm and fuzzy that way.)
Out shopping for furniture last night (wishful thinking on our part that the house will be done soon!) and I came to the realization that The Wife and I agree on nothing. (I know: I've shocked you again, haven't I?) We looked at a dozen couches and the ones I hated she loved. The ones I loathed, she adored. Standing there in that furniture store, I had a realization about life, relationships, and the nature of humanity. I realized something about women that had escaped me until that moment of epiphany . . .
You all have terrible taste!
Well, at least it doesn't coincide with anything that a man would consider "taste"! The difference is in thought process. I'm busy looking for what will be practical (wide enough for my fat ass to lay out on) durable (the salsa I drip on it wipes off) and attractive (it ain't got no pukey-lookin' flower crap all over it) The Wife disregards all these criteria for the twisted concept of "Coordination" (The chartruse of the swag matches the mauve couplets of the duvet . . . Whatever the hell THAT means!) Everything must match everything else. The very thought makes my poor brain ache. How about the concept of: it don't look like crap and it's comfortable as hell?
Must be a man thing.
Anyway, still no writing work done. I promise I'll be back on a regular schedule starting next week. (No, really! Hey! I've warned you before about laughing at the blogger, haven't I? Don't make me get all medevial on your readerly ass!)
Later!
Monday, April 10, 2006
Mine Ass Hath Been Truly Kicked!
Howdy, folks!
Contrary to popular opinion, I did not die from blood loss after the mutilation of my ear (much to The Wife's regret, I assure you!) I aplogize for the unexpected silence but spacetime went through some unexplained quantum flux, altering the chronologic flow of the universe in a bizarre manner that produced a two week long string of back-to-back Mondays.
Now, you all know how very fond I am of that (so-called) day and you also know (I trust) that I would not use that vile title on any day that had not truly earned it. Trust me when I guarantee you that life has been repeatedly placing it's proverbial boot upon my well-rounded buttocks. Repeatedly. And with great vigor. Giggling the whole while. (though that might have been The Wife, I'm not sure.)
I took a "vacation" (please note the sarcastic quotes there!) last week to work on my house. I needed the time to try and finish off all the horrors my asshole contractor left me with after he bailed. It was a nightmare. Every time I went to finish something, I had to backtrack five steps when I saw the crap work he'd left behind. I won't go into detail on the idiocy I found (else we might be here till we're all old and gray!) suffice to say that I had no time to breathe last week, much less post here, and that suicide was beginning to look like a viable alternative to continuing work on my home.
I meant to let you all know I'd be out of touch last week before I left but my string of Mondays began about ten minutes after my last post. Work exploded in front of me, leaving bits of foul smelling offal all over me . . . just what one needs before moving into a week of rage, frustration, and disappointment. (ain't I the lucky fella?) Now, in a saner -more just- world (if such exists anywhere!) you might expect that when I finished working on the house that my Monday-itis would fade. (and you would be a very silly person to expect that!) Instead, after taking off yesterday for a well earned bit of rest . . . things got worse. (I know: you're shocked!) In the last twenty four hours we've had a family death, a major family fight (not related to the death, though I am considering adding to the body count . . .) I walked into 0ne hundred and thirteen (113) e-mails waiting for me (BTW: at an average of ten minutes to compose, that would mean folks spent 1,130 minutes -or approx. 19 hours- writing me messages last week. Multiply that by 52 weeks a year and I have the equivalent of a full time person doing nothing but sending me e-mails for half the year! That's insane!) Anyway, throw in a shitstorm in the form of an e-mail that was accidentally sent out by senior management containing personal assesments of individual's professional abilities (done by me at my boss' request). The e-mail (naturally!) wound up in the hands of many of the folks I had assessed and I have been receiving angry phone calls all day from folks who didn't like what I had to say.
Oh yea . . . the Mondays just keep on-a-rollin'!!!
Writing . . . bleh. Not one goddam word in two weeks. No time, energy, or desire to even try. I hope to get back on it soon but work for the next three weeks is looking uglier by the minute. I have a major software rollout and training program to run (and three -so far- new trainees thrown in for chuckles!) and I'll be all over the place so I don't know where/when/how I'll be writing, updating the blog, editing or . . . ya' know: BREATHING!!!!
Well now . . . ain't you glad "Little-Miss-Mary-Sunshine" is back in town kids?
Later!
Contrary to popular opinion, I did not die from blood loss after the mutilation of my ear (much to The Wife's regret, I assure you!) I aplogize for the unexpected silence but spacetime went through some unexplained quantum flux, altering the chronologic flow of the universe in a bizarre manner that produced a two week long string of back-to-back Mondays.
Now, you all know how very fond I am of that (so-called) day and you also know (I trust) that I would not use that vile title on any day that had not truly earned it. Trust me when I guarantee you that life has been repeatedly placing it's proverbial boot upon my well-rounded buttocks. Repeatedly. And with great vigor. Giggling the whole while. (though that might have been The Wife, I'm not sure.)
I took a "vacation" (please note the sarcastic quotes there!) last week to work on my house. I needed the time to try and finish off all the horrors my asshole contractor left me with after he bailed. It was a nightmare. Every time I went to finish something, I had to backtrack five steps when I saw the crap work he'd left behind. I won't go into detail on the idiocy I found (else we might be here till we're all old and gray!) suffice to say that I had no time to breathe last week, much less post here, and that suicide was beginning to look like a viable alternative to continuing work on my home.
I meant to let you all know I'd be out of touch last week before I left but my string of Mondays began about ten minutes after my last post. Work exploded in front of me, leaving bits of foul smelling offal all over me . . . just what one needs before moving into a week of rage, frustration, and disappointment. (ain't I the lucky fella?) Now, in a saner -more just- world (if such exists anywhere!) you might expect that when I finished working on the house that my Monday-itis would fade. (and you would be a very silly person to expect that!) Instead, after taking off yesterday for a well earned bit of rest . . . things got worse. (I know: you're shocked!) In the last twenty four hours we've had a family death, a major family fight (not related to the death, though I am considering adding to the body count . . .) I walked into 0ne hundred and thirteen (113) e-mails waiting for me (BTW: at an average of ten minutes to compose, that would mean folks spent 1,130 minutes -or approx. 19 hours- writing me messages last week. Multiply that by 52 weeks a year and I have the equivalent of a full time person doing nothing but sending me e-mails for half the year! That's insane!) Anyway, throw in a shitstorm in the form of an e-mail that was accidentally sent out by senior management containing personal assesments of individual's professional abilities (done by me at my boss' request). The e-mail (naturally!) wound up in the hands of many of the folks I had assessed and I have been receiving angry phone calls all day from folks who didn't like what I had to say.
Oh yea . . . the Mondays just keep on-a-rollin'!!!
Writing . . . bleh. Not one goddam word in two weeks. No time, energy, or desire to even try. I hope to get back on it soon but work for the next three weeks is looking uglier by the minute. I have a major software rollout and training program to run (and three -so far- new trainees thrown in for chuckles!) and I'll be all over the place so I don't know where/when/how I'll be writing, updating the blog, editing or . . . ya' know: BREATHING!!!!
Well now . . . ain't you glad "Little-Miss-Mary-Sunshine" is back in town kids?
Later!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)