I've been bringing a lot of work home lately. I'm not a fan of working outside of the prescribed work times, but sometimes it just has to be done. (And technically, I'm salaried, meaning I'm never really off the clock.)
Tonight, I wrote two manuals for the software program we use in fundraising. We're moving to an entirely new system in a few months, but it was necessary to write these manuals for the old system as well. This part of it isn't really changing much, and it'll give me a head start on the new manuals I have to write. I get to pass my knowledge to a selected few tomorrow, (read: captive audience), so I'm pretty excited to see how this is received.
In a sick sort of way, I really enjoy doing this sort of thing. (Go creationist part of me!) But I wish it was a different sort of writing. I really enjoy creative writing, and I haven't been very motivated lately. I have about 4 things in the works right now, but I've been too focused to make any progress on them. One, which is a screenplay type of thing, is pretty complete in my head. There are details I have to finalize, but I just need to get it into words. I have blocks of dialogue just floating around up there, mingling out of order with scenes and characters and settings... but it's just disorder right now. I need to make it something cohesive and then force it upon someone else to tell me how it is. Really, what's the point of writing something if no one is reading?
Historically, I do my best writing in hotels, when no one else is around. (No, I'm not JK Rowling and this isn't Harry Potter. But she has a wonderful theory of writing in specific settings for maximum efficiency.) The big problem I have is the lack of a writing device. (ie: a laptop.) I have an ancient laptop, but it's horribly slow to boot up. I can type ahead of it's ability to display things on the screen. I might be better served with just a pen and paper, which means competing with my ever so sloppy handwriting. (And, I have notepads and notepads of story scribbles. All I need is more 1/2 constructed story ideas.)
I'm off to DC in a few days, so maybe something will come across that will facilitate my creative streak. Maybe I'll find a free coupon for a laptop while I"m walking down the street. Maybe I'll find further motivation. Anyone willing to be a surrogate muse for a weekend?
Monday, March 30, 2009
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Touchy-Feely Day?
It really was a very average Wednesday... at least to begin with. I walked to work, settled in at my desk, checked some e-mails, and then started crossing stuff off of my to-do list.
I don't have many gripes about work, but I do wish I had my own personal space. I share an office with one, (soon to be two), other person. But she's wonderful. She's quiet, respectful, and a hard worker. Unfortunately, I really enjoy noise at work. I like hearing hustling and bustling and shuffling around. I like to hear liveliness. I feed off that sort of energy. And it just doesn't exist in this work area. I've been getting some great usage from my iPod recently, and I've played just about every song I own. I don't like looking antisocial by constantly wearing headphones, but it really helps me focus as compared to a completely noiseless, sterile work environment.
Headphones on, head down, working away by 9:00. All To-do's were set and ready to go, all e-mails were checked and responses were sent. And that's when Touchy Feely Wednesday kicked into full gear. At every chance, it seemed that someone was touching me. Today along I got a shoulder rub, (not an inappropriate one.), my arm grabbed, 2 high-fives, (which isn't enough, if you ask me), and a few pats on the back. I don't think I look stressed out, and I usually don't carry that sort of thing on my face. I don't think I was overly intense today, so I'm not sure what the deal was.
Maybe I'm being buttered up because I keep talking about this crazy chocolate cake that I was thinking about making. It's about 6 different kinds of chocolate, and it's very dense and rich. It could also be something in the water. Perhaps a combination.
Tomorrow is going to be the same drill: Go in, follow the routine, hit the ground running. And I'm ok with that. I just won't be wearing a crushed velvet shirt or anything.
All in favor of a quick Thursday?
I don't have many gripes about work, but I do wish I had my own personal space. I share an office with one, (soon to be two), other person. But she's wonderful. She's quiet, respectful, and a hard worker. Unfortunately, I really enjoy noise at work. I like hearing hustling and bustling and shuffling around. I like to hear liveliness. I feed off that sort of energy. And it just doesn't exist in this work area. I've been getting some great usage from my iPod recently, and I've played just about every song I own. I don't like looking antisocial by constantly wearing headphones, but it really helps me focus as compared to a completely noiseless, sterile work environment.
Headphones on, head down, working away by 9:00. All To-do's were set and ready to go, all e-mails were checked and responses were sent. And that's when Touchy Feely Wednesday kicked into full gear. At every chance, it seemed that someone was touching me. Today along I got a shoulder rub, (not an inappropriate one.), my arm grabbed, 2 high-fives, (which isn't enough, if you ask me), and a few pats on the back. I don't think I look stressed out, and I usually don't carry that sort of thing on my face. I don't think I was overly intense today, so I'm not sure what the deal was.
Maybe I'm being buttered up because I keep talking about this crazy chocolate cake that I was thinking about making. It's about 6 different kinds of chocolate, and it's very dense and rich. It could also be something in the water. Perhaps a combination.
Tomorrow is going to be the same drill: Go in, follow the routine, hit the ground running. And I'm ok with that. I just won't be wearing a crushed velvet shirt or anything.
All in favor of a quick Thursday?
Friday, March 20, 2009
The Start of Something Painful.
The itch returned this week. The itch is strong. Very strong.
Last year, I realized that I'm quickly approaching 30 years of age, and my dreams of revitalizing a hardball career are probably not going to happen. I'm not out of shape, but I'm really far from being in baseball playing shape. (There also are very few leagues that cater to the over-18 hardball crowd.) I'm never content to just sit still, so I took up another activity: Golf.
I used to make fun of golf. I was one of those cocky guys who thought he was too good for golf. I used to hit a moving object. It would go 90 mph, curve sometimes, and there was even danger involved. There was running and protective gear involved. Golf? That was an old man sport. Golf is for old men with funny pants pulled up to their necks. The hardest part of golf was hitting your stationary ball away from the trees or water or whatever stationary obstacle was sitting in plain view. Golf. Blah.
Well past me... Shut the hell up. Golf is freakin' HARD. This is officially my second season of golf. I'm much better than I was last year at this time, but there is still a lot of progress to be made. I never realized how mental the game was. (Maybe I'm the mental one...) There's a lot of thinking, planning, counterplanning, second-guessing and on and on. It's a lot more intense that I had originally thought.
The thermometer topped 60 degrees this week. I had the urge to be outside for extended periods of time, just as I had been since I was 4. Warm weather used to lead to months of outdoor activity: Summers of daily baseball and football games with the friends. Now, it means I get to wear funny pants, haul a big bag of metal sticks, and swear at nature. And I get to be my own opponent.
But being that this is March in Western, PA., it's not golf season yet. I awoke this morning to a snow covered car. The forecast is calling for sub 40 degree weather and showers all week. Just the right combination to make the itch a lot stronger until this cold streak breaks. I've only managed to get 9 holes in, (thanks to a mental health 1/2 day vacation on Tuesday!) My entire midsection is sore, which makes sneezing a lot of fun, but it's a good kind of hurting. It's the "there's hope that I'll be able to enjoy the outdoors some point during this year" pain.
So, until it thaws, I'm laid out on the couch... constantly checking the weather...and damning that little groundhog who gave us the extra weeks of winter.
Last year, I realized that I'm quickly approaching 30 years of age, and my dreams of revitalizing a hardball career are probably not going to happen. I'm not out of shape, but I'm really far from being in baseball playing shape. (There also are very few leagues that cater to the over-18 hardball crowd.) I'm never content to just sit still, so I took up another activity: Golf.
I used to make fun of golf. I was one of those cocky guys who thought he was too good for golf. I used to hit a moving object. It would go 90 mph, curve sometimes, and there was even danger involved. There was running and protective gear involved. Golf? That was an old man sport. Golf is for old men with funny pants pulled up to their necks. The hardest part of golf was hitting your stationary ball away from the trees or water or whatever stationary obstacle was sitting in plain view. Golf. Blah.
Well past me... Shut the hell up. Golf is freakin' HARD. This is officially my second season of golf. I'm much better than I was last year at this time, but there is still a lot of progress to be made. I never realized how mental the game was. (Maybe I'm the mental one...) There's a lot of thinking, planning, counterplanning, second-guessing and on and on. It's a lot more intense that I had originally thought.
The thermometer topped 60 degrees this week. I had the urge to be outside for extended periods of time, just as I had been since I was 4. Warm weather used to lead to months of outdoor activity: Summers of daily baseball and football games with the friends. Now, it means I get to wear funny pants, haul a big bag of metal sticks, and swear at nature. And I get to be my own opponent.
But being that this is March in Western, PA., it's not golf season yet. I awoke this morning to a snow covered car. The forecast is calling for sub 40 degree weather and showers all week. Just the right combination to make the itch a lot stronger until this cold streak breaks. I've only managed to get 9 holes in, (thanks to a mental health 1/2 day vacation on Tuesday!) My entire midsection is sore, which makes sneezing a lot of fun, but it's a good kind of hurting. It's the "there's hope that I'll be able to enjoy the outdoors some point during this year" pain.
So, until it thaws, I'm laid out on the couch... constantly checking the weather...and damning that little groundhog who gave us the extra weeks of winter.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Ordinary Nighttime Occurances...
I've fallen into an unhealthy routine lately. At 2:00 am, I find myself wide-eyed, heart beating rapidly, strewn across the bed. I stare at the ceiling and just listen. My eyes trace the path along the floor of a THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. HUGE THUMP. Shuffling. Thump. Thump... trailing off.
We have neighbors upstairs. They're not large guys, but they have a problem with choosing footwear outside the spectrum of rodeo wear. Maybe they're shitkicker boots. Either way, their choice of footwear makes them always walk with a certain undeserved authority: one that certainly doesn't exist at 2:00 am when you're in your own home.
2 am marks the time when they usually have had too much to drink, and remember that they should probably head home. They toss the door open, and begin the trek across the wood floors to bed. Without fail, someone will shout obscene things to one of the other 2 housemates. The path to bed sounds like a cycle of stammering, falling dead weight on the floor, and then staggering back to an upright position to fall over once again. And it goes on for about 1/2 hour every night.
My body is now trained to tune in for this great experience. It's my body's way of saying "Hey. Are you positive you want to live in this house again next year? Do you really value sleep?" Sometimes I get an added bonus: The stumbling lands the drunkard close enough to a stereo, which then begins to blare the same bad music you hear at area bars. But it's only the basslines. The words and melodies are incoherent.
This week is a bit different. Spring break. Silence. No one upstairs. No cars littering the streets. No high heels clattering on the brick roads on the way to the bus stop. No crushed cans in the flower beds. Just time to sit up at 2am in the morning and enjoy the peace and quiet...
We have neighbors upstairs. They're not large guys, but they have a problem with choosing footwear outside the spectrum of rodeo wear. Maybe they're shitkicker boots. Either way, their choice of footwear makes them always walk with a certain undeserved authority: one that certainly doesn't exist at 2:00 am when you're in your own home.
2 am marks the time when they usually have had too much to drink, and remember that they should probably head home. They toss the door open, and begin the trek across the wood floors to bed. Without fail, someone will shout obscene things to one of the other 2 housemates. The path to bed sounds like a cycle of stammering, falling dead weight on the floor, and then staggering back to an upright position to fall over once again. And it goes on for about 1/2 hour every night.
My body is now trained to tune in for this great experience. It's my body's way of saying "Hey. Are you positive you want to live in this house again next year? Do you really value sleep?" Sometimes I get an added bonus: The stumbling lands the drunkard close enough to a stereo, which then begins to blare the same bad music you hear at area bars. But it's only the basslines. The words and melodies are incoherent.
This week is a bit different. Spring break. Silence. No one upstairs. No cars littering the streets. No high heels clattering on the brick roads on the way to the bus stop. No crushed cans in the flower beds. Just time to sit up at 2am in the morning and enjoy the peace and quiet...
Monday, March 2, 2009
Ill Communication
I have a strange feeling that I have a deep connection to my car. Every time I have it in for service, I tend to get sick. And not just a little sick. I'm talking about leaving work in the middle of the day and going directly to the doctor sick.
Well, my "Check Engine" light had been on for a solid 2 weeks, so I finally decided that I had all the critical stuff under wraps. Right now, driving isn't a big deal to me. It's really just a luxury. I live 2 minutes from my workplace, and I walk every day. I really only use a car once or twice a week to get to the grocery store or to snag some fast food. Even then, the things I need are never really that far away. A tank of gas lasts me months. (Take that, carbon footprint!)
This morning, I got up at the usual time, ate some breakfast, and cut my SportsCenter viewing short. I started getting ready when I realized that I was not feeling well. I'll spare the details, but it was the kind of thing that usually results in instantly calling in sick to work. I still decided to get ready since today was our monthly full staff meeting. I really like going to these meetings. It's a nice way to reconnect and get a nice overview of how everyone is doing. It's just nice to have perspective and see how your efforts fit in with the bigger picture.
I dropped my car off, and my wife took me straight to work. I got on my computer, started going through my normal routine, and just hit the wall. Big time sickness again, so I left. No meeting today, just some quality time with the doctor. I'm really fortunate to have gotten an appointment today, and hopefully I'll get some rest. I'm really poor at sitting still and recovering. I think I suffer from perminant cabin fever. Always moving, figiting, looking for something to do.
As sad as it is, I'll probably end up doing some work from home. I have these training manuals I've been writing that just happen to be on my jump drive. Maybe that will make me mentally tired enough to just sit around...
Well, my "Check Engine" light had been on for a solid 2 weeks, so I finally decided that I had all the critical stuff under wraps. Right now, driving isn't a big deal to me. It's really just a luxury. I live 2 minutes from my workplace, and I walk every day. I really only use a car once or twice a week to get to the grocery store or to snag some fast food. Even then, the things I need are never really that far away. A tank of gas lasts me months. (Take that, carbon footprint!)
This morning, I got up at the usual time, ate some breakfast, and cut my SportsCenter viewing short. I started getting ready when I realized that I was not feeling well. I'll spare the details, but it was the kind of thing that usually results in instantly calling in sick to work. I still decided to get ready since today was our monthly full staff meeting. I really like going to these meetings. It's a nice way to reconnect and get a nice overview of how everyone is doing. It's just nice to have perspective and see how your efforts fit in with the bigger picture.
I dropped my car off, and my wife took me straight to work. I got on my computer, started going through my normal routine, and just hit the wall. Big time sickness again, so I left. No meeting today, just some quality time with the doctor. I'm really fortunate to have gotten an appointment today, and hopefully I'll get some rest. I'm really poor at sitting still and recovering. I think I suffer from perminant cabin fever. Always moving, figiting, looking for something to do.
As sad as it is, I'll probably end up doing some work from home. I have these training manuals I've been writing that just happen to be on my jump drive. Maybe that will make me mentally tired enough to just sit around...
Sunday, March 1, 2009
To Blog or not to... eh, forget it.
June 2008 was the last time I blogged. Since that time, I've tried blogging. Really, I've tried. But for some reason the end result wasn't exactly what I was looking for. Maybe it wasn't as jaded or smarmy or as laden with sarcasm as I would have liked it. But labeling it with any of those things is probably just a cop out. Really, I just think it comes down to laziness.
Originally, blogging was my 2-cent home version of real therapy. I had a string of really poor jobs that I paraded around as careers that just didn't give me the fulfillment that I was seeking. So I bitched about it. (I suppose I could have done the same at any local watering hole, but my recall after such complaining sessions wasn't as good as having the whole damn debacle in writing.)
It's a very strange time for me right now. I've been in a job for longer than a year that I really enjoy. I have annoyances from day to day, but nothing that warrants a blog post about the rampant stupidity that surrounds me. Because, there isn't stupidity around me. I genuinely like my coworkers and feel like we're actually in a worthwhile endeavor. Label it under the same category as "Clapping your hands if you believe in fairies", but I'm really into this higher education fundraising thing. Reallocate from the rich and give to the poor college students... who in turn will someday find themselves in a position of philanthropy, and start the whole circle of life all over again.
No more complaining about the job. Because I don't have a job... I think I've hit on something I wouldn't mind doing for the rest of my life. So this blog is going to have to have something to it. Some substance, some topic. So I'm probably going to revert to the complaining thing, because that's where my strength lies. Maybe the topics will be a little scattered, and maybe they won't flow together as I had wanted, but who's going to complain about it? Anyone? Does anyone actually read this stuff? (Considering I haven't updated in awhile... probably not.)
I'm going to at least pop some snippets up on this blog, because it's a way to keep my gears turning in this head of mine. Gotta stay sharp. Stick around, because if I toss enough words up here, I'm sure to eventually hit on something funny/touching/intelligent.
But for today, I have no freakin' idea how my wife sleeps when every light in the house is on. How does that work?
Originally, blogging was my 2-cent home version of real therapy. I had a string of really poor jobs that I paraded around as careers that just didn't give me the fulfillment that I was seeking. So I bitched about it. (I suppose I could have done the same at any local watering hole, but my recall after such complaining sessions wasn't as good as having the whole damn debacle in writing.)
It's a very strange time for me right now. I've been in a job for longer than a year that I really enjoy. I have annoyances from day to day, but nothing that warrants a blog post about the rampant stupidity that surrounds me. Because, there isn't stupidity around me. I genuinely like my coworkers and feel like we're actually in a worthwhile endeavor. Label it under the same category as "Clapping your hands if you believe in fairies", but I'm really into this higher education fundraising thing. Reallocate from the rich and give to the poor college students... who in turn will someday find themselves in a position of philanthropy, and start the whole circle of life all over again.
No more complaining about the job. Because I don't have a job... I think I've hit on something I wouldn't mind doing for the rest of my life. So this blog is going to have to have something to it. Some substance, some topic. So I'm probably going to revert to the complaining thing, because that's where my strength lies. Maybe the topics will be a little scattered, and maybe they won't flow together as I had wanted, but who's going to complain about it? Anyone? Does anyone actually read this stuff? (Considering I haven't updated in awhile... probably not.)
I'm going to at least pop some snippets up on this blog, because it's a way to keep my gears turning in this head of mine. Gotta stay sharp. Stick around, because if I toss enough words up here, I'm sure to eventually hit on something funny/touching/intelligent.
But for today, I have no freakin' idea how my wife sleeps when every light in the house is on. How does that work?
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