Tuesday, June 2, 2009

List of things done

With just a half hour left in the work day I've decided to put together a list of things I've accomplished today, and rate their actual importance to me on a scale of 1 to ten.  One being 'I actually forgot I did that for a little while there', and 10 being 'Yes!  I am a Bulwark of Productivity!'.  Okay, Here goes.

  1. This morning I managed to somehow walk out of the house in the same shirt I walked out of the house in yesterday.  Importance: 1
  2. Walked to work instead of hitching a ride or calling a cab.  Importance: 5.  I'm pretty sure this is what has me losing so much weight.  This, or a tapeworm.
  3. Arrived at work late.  Set up projector in conference room for brief meeting, cleared my desk, and did some quick computer majick before anyone really noticed.  Importance: 4.  Okay, 5 I guess.  Keeping up this ruse is what's keeping me employed at this point.
  4. Completely failed at math.  I was explaining to the nice lady who's doing I don't know what with us here, that the 24 computers were all doing eleven years worth of climate modelling, spanning from 1960 to 2100.  She asked me what the other ten were doing, and I went 'Duhhhhh"  Yes, its 14 decades between 1960 and 2100.  What are the others doing?  Uhm...Maybe its up to 2200?  Importance: 4 (A complete stranger thinks your an idiot.  Go cry, Emo kid.)
  5. Had lunch on the company tab, through a fuck-up that wasn't mine (for once!).  Importance: 3
  6. FAILED to pick up my transcripts because I was busy having lunch on the company tab.  Importance: 8.  (WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!)
  7. Blanked out at my desk for two hours.  Importance: 1.
Blanking out is weird.  Its like my brain's way of saying 'You obviously don't need me right now, so I'm gonna go take a nap.'  And it happens...a lot.


Monday, June 1, 2009

What's stopping me?

Its right there.  Its all right there in front of me.  I have two envelopes on my desk.  In those envelopes are four other envelopes, along with a letter thanking the reader for agreeing to write my reccomendation letters for college applications, and requesting they make four copies and seal them in the included envelopes.  I've thought of just about everything.  I'm prepared.  There would be three envelopes on my desk but the third one is in my messenger bag, ready to be delivered.  But it hasn't been, actually.  None of them have been delievered.  The dates on them are two weeks old.

What's wrong with me?  Why do i hesitate with these things?  Why do I tell myself that its what I want so badly, and then do nothing to bring them about?  Why am I so intent on destroying myself?

And then there's just the fact that there's SO much to do, and only one me to do them.  But I can't help but think that I only use this as an excuse really.  Who else would do them anyway?  I guess I have to suck it up, but doing these things without help feels hopeless.  Like I'm doomed without someone else input.  Maybe its a self confidence thing.  maybe its reality.  Maybe I'm just afraid of my own success, and I trick myself into thinking I'm really just afraid of failure.  I wish someone could help me sort this out. 

I wish I was strong enough to sort it out myself.

Friday, May 15, 2009

Dissatisfaction in the Workplace pt I

I am nothing. Gossamer. I am the magical vapors in the wake of the genie. I am a Techno-Shaman, rattling trackballs in a gourd and shaking my micro-screwdrivers at gremlins and w.o.m.b.a.t.s.

The printer/copier/fax machine out front is fucked. Its probably about five years old, as old as my 'career' in this place, and its currently experiencing the machine equivalent of multiple organ failure. The Scanner/copier flatbed is streaked with dirt or grease, and on the underside which i have no idea how to get to. It stopped scanning in color long ago. That is, it stopped scanning in proper colors. Every color scan comes out in shades of blue, and clear white streaks across the page. The little narrow pane of glass dedicated to the document feeder is spotless, but the document feeder itself needs help in doing its job. The rubber wheels are all gummy and rotting, and the runners have a tendency to grab several pages at a time, if they manage to grab any. What's most annoying is what happens when the USB cable is plugged into the machine, or when any activity is prompted by the attached PC. It'll start to go about its little checks: Warming up scanner bulb. Checking arm track. Scanning to PC. And I'll hear it sort of droning and grinding and flexing those efficient little mechanical muscles. And then It'll Stop.

Error 79. Power off then back on.

And it'll do that until I take a hammer to either the printer/copier/fax, or to my own head.

All this, you understand, is beyond my scope. I can't fix the electrical problem causing the 'Error 79'. I can't readjust the color sensors so that the scanner doesn't see everything in shades of cyan. I can't replace the gummy feeder wheels or tighten the treads on the tracks so that it knows how thick a single piece of paper is. I probably could take the flatbed apart, remove the glass pane and have it cleaned and polished, but I can't guarantee that I'll be able to put it back together again. I can't fix this thing. But no one wants to hear that.

"The copier needs servicing" I say to the woman. We'll call her the woman for now because you don't really need to know her name or what she does. All you need to know is that she's the one who is responsible for the printer/copier/fax machine and that I hate her, but I have to be civil to her because...well, because I'm civil to everyone.
"What copier.' She says and she peers out the window behind me at the machine she's pretending not to have ever known about.
'The (insert model number)."
"Oh, which one is that?'

Its at this point that I'm forced to segregate my internal dialogue and what I actually say. In my head I've already blown up. In my head I've walked out the room while flipping her the bird and gone back to something more worthwhile than talking to a halfwit about a machine that she purchased five years ago. In my head I'm holding her by the back of the neck and thumping her head against the glass while pointing and saying 'Its the fucking grey one!' I'm having this reaction now because I've had it before. Several times. Once when the streaks on the glass first appeared. Again when the scanner turned everything blue. Once as she stood there wondering why the copier was munching all five pages of her document at once and jammed, and she looked at me and said 'This is a scanner too?'. But I must be civil. I must be calm.

"The f...the grey one" I say. "Its been a while since its been serviced". In truth it has never been serviced. Never cleaned or updated or given the once over. "And its getting to the point where its malfunctioning more often than its actually functioning."

I know, dear reader, that it is now impossible for me to convince you that what I say is free from any superfluous embellishment. I've already admitted that I hate the woman, and you must be thinking that this is some frustrated tirade intended to unfairly paint her in a mocking light. It is, and yet it isn't. It is a frustrated tirade, I won't deny that, and I do hate the woman. But this is no embellishment. I am not painting her in any light other than the harsh fluorescence of reality. The reality is, when I said the words 'malfunctioning' and later 'functioning'; both words consisting of more than two syllables if you hadn't noticed, the woman paused. I could see in her furrowed brow that she was startled, as if she'd come across something hard and unpalatable in the lexiconic gruel that she was so used to consuming. She took a quick breath and looked, for an instant, as if she were about to stand up and inspect the machine herself for signs of this 'malfunkshuning' and I knew that she had forgotten how this conversation had even begun. Ever civil, I chose to remind her.

"So I think we should call the distributor and have it serviced.'
'Well whenever we call them they usually charge us.' She said, finally back on the right track. Sort of. 'And they'll want to take it away and then we won't have any copier.'
'We'll it'll only be temporary, and in the mean time we can use the other one in the back," The 'other one' belongs to man we shall call Mr. Good, because he's generally a good fellow, even when he's not. He doesn't work with us, except that he works in the same field and we share office space, and he's generally cooperative, well mannered, and good. Its hard to explain really. He's apples, we're oranges, but we're all still just fruit. "Or you can use the little ones here to copy.'

At someone's behest, I'm still not sure who, several people in the office were given little desktop all-in-ones. It was a ridiculous move on several levels, but whats most ridiculous is that the people who were 'awarded' with these tiny printers/scanners/copiers procured in the name of efficiency are the type of people who do nothing for themselves.

They are the hills from which shit rolls down. They are monkeys ordering their own tails. They are gopher ranchers. Gopher this. Gopher that. But never gopher it your own damn self.

And so, saying 'You can scan and copy from the little printers' is sort of like saying 'You can wipe your own ass for a while, can't you?' Its not as if I didn't know this already. It was my very civil way of being a smart ass. The woman, the halfwit who can't remember that she's responsible for servicing the equipment which she bought, the equipment that I don't know how to service, knows this too. She is not as dumb as she pretends to be, and that annoys me even more. She fixes me with pursed lips, a furrowed brow, and fluttering eyelids which I already know precede a condescending smile, and she says to me.

"Just see what you can do."

What? Did you not understand what I just said? I've been 'seeing what I can do' for four years now! Oh, I'll tell you what I can do! What I can do is...What I can do...

My inner dialogue is out of gas. Resigned, I trudge outside, glare at the 'Error 79 message' and pick at the scraggly hairs in my beard. With no amount of grace I turn off the printer/copier/fax machine, unplug the USB cable from the computer, and turn the machine back on. There. I've done what I can do. Symptom cured. I've gotten rid of the cough so it can slowly die of pneumonia.

I'm a fucking quack.

The Changing Leaves

I would very much like my life to be like the seasons.

If, by some inhuman capacity, you were able to stand perfectly still while the world blazed by you would have some idea of what I mean. You'd be able to see them changing constantly. The brown crunch underfoot inevitably turns to green, filling the air with their freshness and adding an involuntary spring to your step. Then the green matures, turns
golden and regal, and eventually takes one last glorious dive from the the tips of treetops to the firmament. Trees almost shudder in Autumn, as if they want to shed their leaves, if just for the enjoyment of nostalgia. Old turns to new as if that is what was meant to be, and just as joyously what was new becomes old. You can't enjoy the seasons without enjoying the passing of them.

I want to my life to be like that. In truth it may already be like that, but what I really want is to see it that way again.
I want to enjoy it all, even the less pleasant bits, the way I used to not too long ago.

This is quickly becoming maudlin, which I did not intend. But perhaps writing without real intent is precisely what I need. That's how things were back then, you see. I wasn't trying. I was just doing. Just living. Trying to make the leaves change, or make them not change, may have been my biggest mistake. And so, I'd like to get back to that feeling, and perhaps writing with abandon is my ticket there. This blog is a silly little thing, much like the silly little thing I had before. But its new, and because of that its still sort of hidden. I don't have to worry about friends and loved ones getting their feelings hurt, or family members angry at the secrets I tell. Well, I suppose I do have to worry about that, but I'll try not to. I can be honest here. I can be frank. Yes, this silly thing...
this seems like a good start.

Tuesday, December 9, 2008

Remembering Ozzy

Here I am, struggling through a personal essay for yet another attempt
to get out applications before January.  However despite a collection of
soothing instrumentals and jazz, and despite there being absolutely
nothing to distract me (obnoxious, belching co-workers included) except
my own buzzing procrastination, my internal editor, and the ever present
internet, it really is a struggle.  I've got a lot on my mind, you see,
and its set me on a sort of bitterly angry, frustrated mood. 
Everything sounds so tongue-in-cheek, not the kind of impression you'd
want to give an acceptance committee, and every revision sounds even
more like I'm saying "Y'know what?  Fuck you.", albeit in more eloquent
banter.

And then I rememberd Ozzy.

The question was 'When
did you become interested in this field (creative writing/English)..."
and my immediate answer was, of course, 'Since Childhood, when I would
overindulge in an overactive imagination'.  I'd expanded upon that by
mentioning that everyone used to sort of laugh and point at the kid who
spent his precious break-time talking to lizards and contemplating the
daily lives of those who resided in the kingdom of clouds.  I was
considered a little bit weird for commanding invisible armies and stupid
for trying to feel the heartbeats of trees.  But after we started
writing in language arts classes, I'd sort of found my niche.  If anyone
thought my stories were weird or stupid then, they didn't say.  The
closest ones too me didn't at least.  They just said 'Write more.'

If
I were to be completely honest I'd admit that this only applied to
those that were in my age group, and with the way Belize's Primary
Schools are managed, I knew all 30 kids in my age group personally,
since I had to sit in the same class room with them day in and day out. 
The younger ones, even those a year younger, wouldn't get it.  And the
older ones wouldn't care to.  The long hours my mother used to pull even
then meant that I was often left alone with the older ones, and being
accepted by my peers didn't mean much when my peers were no longer
there.  The big kids didn't just laugh and point and try to make me feel
bad.  Some, just for kicks, seemed inclined to beat the imagination out
of me, but Osmond Chan wouldn't let them.

It started out
strangely.  I was in my own world, being weird and stupid in the
schoolyard
piloting helicopters over the countryside, seeking
out enemy military installments or artillery units to neutralize, when
suddenly someone jumped over the school fence and started making
du-du-du-du-du noises with his mouth
I came under heavy
fire from an enemy chopper.  I got scared, but no less weird or
stupid
I broke off from my original target and took evasive
action, but her pursued with his arms tucked in tight at the
elbows and fingers pointed
missile-pods fully loaded and
vulcans hot and ready.  I ran around a bit, almost ran into the
wall, turned and went Pshew! Pshew! Pshew!  Then he pretended to
crash.
  I tried to evade as best I could, and even managed to
slip through a narrow ravine where, despite some damage to my rotors, I
was able to empty my remaining payload and burried him in the rubble.

Here
was someone who could engage with me the way no one else had so far. 
Who didn't just play with me, but played along, adhering to the rules
and laws that we made together.  We made it a regular thing after
school, slaying dragons and fending off alien invasions.  Mind you, many
a time our adventures would descend to 'Lets wash these magic dishes',
but I let him have those every so often.  It was the least I could do
for all the times he'd protected me from meanspirited older kids eager
to rob a ten year old of his snack money, and even for saving me from a
group of kids who thought I should have my first hit of weed by force. 
Most importantly though, he accepted me. and told me that there was no
reason I should feel ashamed for having a bright imagination.  I owe
Ozzy, as he had me call him, endless thanks and appreciation.

I'd
been in New York for about two and half years, and returned in 1996. 
Sometime during that time Ozzy died in a traffic accident.  Though I may
remember him occasionally, I'll never forget him completely.

The in-betweens

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