100904 - Chill   
09:03am 09/10/2004
 
During my senior year of college, when all us students began looking for real-world jobs, the career counselors told us that only 20% of all jobs are obtained through job fairs or classifieds. 75% percent are gained through networking. I used to think that this was because people are inherently lazy. Nowadays, though, I can see the real reasons playing out in my head, a job seeker reading the Sunday classifieds in his living room while his friends watch the game. After a few seconds of scanning, the job seeker throws down the paper in disgust. "Dang it! These ads suck! Bill, do you got anything open?"

The hiring trend around Indy lately has been more towards short-term contract work than hiring actual employees. I guess this makes sense from an economic perspective - the cost is the same, so might as well only pay for use - but it is still unsettling. I know more than one trained professional who has had to settle for work at Best Buy. (The job market now reminds me of the Thirties, when the qualifications for being a bus boy were a strong back and a master's degree. This, even though according to US News and World Report, engineers are in such high demand that companies are having to go overseas to get them! ;)

The major complicating factor for me is that I plan on attending graduate school next fall, which means that, if I got a job today, I'd be working there for nine months at most. If I stayed with automation, my options are basically to either take a tech support job in a factory, the demands for which would be even more brutal than my last job, or wear a blue shirt and stock the latest in consumer electronics.

Instead, I'm attempting to make a sort-of lateral move into what's known as "consulting engineering," or design of mechanical and electrical systems for commercial buildings. There is a lot going for this. First, while detailed, it is not especially difficult work, and it's very easy to learn. Except for the type of equipment, it's really not so different from what I did before. Next, since it's not especially difficult work, most firms that do this are small, local companies, which means that not only is hiring much more flexible, but that there are also a lot of firms in the business. Finally, my mother has a history in the business. She used to work for a major local consulting company that eventually went belly-up and caused a diaspora of her close colleagues there. Now, virtually every consulting firm in Indy has someone that she knows working there, and she's not afraid to use that. Since I got laid off, she's been a godsend; not only has she been mentoring me in the biz, filling in some of the gaps that my former company never did, but she's also pimping me left and right, digging up old connections that I didn't even know existed.

Unfortunately, with the license I have, I can't hang a sign on my door and open for business without jumping through a number of hoops. I can, however, be a part-time employee that can get contracted out - and, since I'm young, I don't cost too much! Thus, it's not very surprising that all of the job responses I've been getting have been along these lines. One company in particular (or, rather, a one-man company) would like to have me start working part time whenever I return from my honeymoon.

It's not the best of all worlds, but it's certainly above average - I'm pretty happy with this. There's no obnoxious, inconvenient travel. I can work out of my home. I get to hone skills that I can take anywhere. And, worst case, it's only for nine months. I'll still look into other jobs for the time being, but this, at least, I can work with.

The also means, though, is that I need to finish writing up the stories from my old job pretty quickly. Robots, a muslim princess, and hoochie mamas - oh my!

  
     

(5 channels open | connect)
 
09XX04 - Pedantic   
07:08pm 25/09/2004
 
Sorry for the slow posting. The month has been busy, full as it was with job searching and tying up loose ends and GRE testing and wedding details. Not much worth noting, and even less worth remembering.

The GRE went really well. I may get into a decent robotics school yet.

So far, little luck on the job front. I'm now into my second round of letters, but that's okay. I kinda expected this.

And the wedding...

---

As of last Thursday, we are now less than a month away from The Wedding. Some details are still getting ironed out, but we're now about 90% ready. (Still need some more RSVP's, though! *hint hint*)

One of my biggest tasks was tracking down my brother to get his tux sizes. I finally got an email back from him today.

"sorry it took so long in getting back to you. The tux was at the cleaners. The same place you are going to next month."

---

I know I'm a bit nerdy, but, until today, I've never had to explain to someone before that, no, I'm not the librarian.

I'm not quite sure why she assumed I was, seeing how I was dressed in a T-shirt, shorts, and tennis shoes. I also haven't shaved in two days.

She did have an unsettling preoccupation with the Andy Griffith Show, though.

"You remember the one where Opie has the dog and he's trying to find the sheriff and so they show the dog a picture of the sheriff and the dog takes them out to the swamp and the sheriff's there and he says..."

  
     

(1 channel open | connect)
 
083104-090204 - Adrift   
04:53pm 02/09/2004
 
As usual, slow posting = eventful life.

Sometimes, I wish it weren't.

The latest drama starts around 2:30 PM on Tuesday. The boss casually passes me in the hall and asks if I have a few minutes. Sure. One thing first - I'll be right there.

I meet him in the main conference room. He closes the door. We sit. He sets a blank manila folder, the kind we keep project information in, on the table in front of him. He opens it, takes out a typed letter, and passes it across the table.

And then begins explaining to me why I'm being laid off.

Not enough work, changing job approaches, so on and so forth, he says. It hurts him now, but it's gonna hurt me more later, he says.

I am a six-foot poker face.

It's an amicable split. No hard feelings. If I need a recommendation, just ask. I'm smart, and have drive - he'd be surprised if it took very long to find another job.

I have no idea how I am going to tell the lady.

The secretary will explain the benefits. Here's the agreement. Feel free to have a lawyer look it over. If you have any questions.

And so (I get to explain to everyone for the rest of my life) that's how my first real job ended.

*

There are a lot of options. The day after I got laid off, there was an automation conference downtown, and I shook my money-maker like my alma mater taught me, from which I got a lot of business cards and a few job recommendations. One top of that, this corner of the city is a surprising hotbed of robotics and automation - a quick search showed over 60 different companies, and that's not including the suburbs. One major robotics manufacturer has an office about two blocks from my old company, and their website says they're hiring. The place where I had my internship is hiring, too, and they're only ten minutes away. And that's not even tapping my contacts. I'm nervous, but I'm not yet worried.

And, if I had to pick a point in time to lose my job, this would be it. I'm signed up to take the GRE in the middle of this month, so this timing gives me a bit more opportunity to study for it. There's also some wedding things that need taken care of, and of course other tidbits here and there. Looking for a job is a job in itself, but I'll also have plenty of other things to keep me hopping.

It's kind of funny that, earlier that morning, I had been framing an LJ post about the mixed feelings I had about my job.

Now I have the chance to find one that suits me a little better.

I just wish we'd known about this a little sooner - like before we sent the wedding invitations out that morning.

  
     

(2 channels open | connect)
 
081704-082304 - Vacation   
11:51am 23/08/2004
 
It's amazing how time flies when you're having fun.

Because my co-workers and I had racked up a lot of vacation, and because there isn't much happening in the office right now, last week was declared "Mandatory Vacation Week" at my office; unless you had something better to do, stay home.

Don't have to tell me twice.

So, with about two months before tying the knot and still plenty of loose ends hanging, I spent the week running errands. Along with sleeping. And playing video games. (It was a vacation, after all.)

Accomplishments:

-The honeymoon has finally been arranged. The day after we get hitched, the story is going to be of Happyghost's European Vacation! A week in Ireland, followed by a week in Malta - and, with the help of our handy dandy local travel agent, for much less than we could have done it ourselves. (Which, of course, means more money for souvenirs!) Right now, I think we're both more excited about the honeymoon than the wedding... (Special thanks to [info]xinamarie for your recommendations. They were quite helpful!)

-My passport has finally been completed, submitted, and paid for. The lady already has hers for her years of globetrotting, so that made the world easier. So, with any luck, I won't have to hide in the cargo hold to get to Europe.

-Made progress on the wedding cake. To be a bit different, we've decided to forego the typical Tower-of-Pisa cake for a set of cheesecakes with various toppings (or "coolies") for each. There's a wonderful local bakery about five minutes from us who we'd love to provide the cheesecakes, but they don't really do coolies. I did some "taste-testing" earlier this week with what they could offer - pie fillings - which turned out to be very tasty, but not quite what we were looking for. Thus, the search continues.

-And, finally, started picking out the music for the reception. Or rather, picking out what music not to play. Since it's my wedding, no country. Since there will be grandmothers there, no rap. (All booty shaking must be tastefully done. This means you, [info]daghain.) After that, about a third of the DJ's playlist is left, and I'm pawing through my music collection for something appropriate that isn't Prince. (Although, in the "Things That Make You Go 'Hmmm'" department, Prince's "Erotic City" was in the DJ's "Top 200 of 2003" playlist. I was shocked that anybody actually knew that song.) At least one song is picked out, though - one of the bridesmaids, my 10-year-old cousin, has requested "Girls Just Wants to Have Fun" so that "all of the girls can get up and dance together." :) No problem with that. However, since we're not going to play that 50 times (I imagine the girls would get tired after a while), more work must be done. Any other recommendations/requests?

Some advice for those of you unmarried who plan on getting married someday: elope. A lot cheaper, a lot easier. And you might get to meet Elvis.

We're also getting our engagement pictures taken today. She's hot, and I clean up well, so I have high hopes that they'll turn out decently.

And then back to work tomorrow. Hopefully they won't send me off to some unexplored portion of the Amazon any time soon - I'm getting used to sleeping in my own bed.

  
     

(2 channels open | connect)
 
072904 - Motivation, Part II, and other things.   
03:15pm 11/08/2004
 
It was getting late, and we were getting tired. The conveyor had been down for three hours at that point, and nobody was quite sure why. Plant personnel were running around with brooms like the last line of defense against an army of dust bunnies. All of the managers had been called in from home, and they were none too happy.

My co-worker and I sat and watched the maelstrom swirl around us. We were there for some testing, and we couldn't do anything until the conveyor was running again.

The plant manager, short and burly, burst through a nearby door, broomstick in hand. He glanced around a few seconds before his eyes fell upon us. The urgent look fell from his face, and he shuffled over to us.

Taking a page out of some new-age manager handbook, he said, "In case you haven't noticed, guys, the conveyor's down, and we need everybody helping out. So, grab a broom and let's get busy!"

He took a few steps, then turned back to us. We hadn't moved an inch. A demon began to take over; his eyes burned, his skin turned deep red, and his voice became an other-worldly bark.

"LET'S GET BUSY!"

My colleague, sixty-plus and non-plussed, replied, "We don't work for you."

Magic words I need to remember. The demon disposessed, the blood drained, and the he managed to crack a smile. "Oh. Who are you guys with?"

My partner explained the situation. The manager apologized and hurried off.

Like I said before, I don't plan on becoming a manager any time soon. But, when I do, please shoot me if I ever say, "Let's get busy" as a motivational statement.

---

Something I just noticed.

I have 7 wonderful ladies on my friends list. (And [info]pi216, you make me wonder sometimes.)

[info]theferrett has 248 friends. Let's assume half of them are female - 124 ladies. He has 31 crushes, making the female portion of his list 25% crushes.

Of this 31, three of his crushes are on my friends list. This makes 43% of my ladyfriends list Ferrett-Humpable.

If Ferrett's friends list and sense of attraction are at all meaningful, then-
Implication: I have a hot friends list.
Corollary: He's selling the rest of my list short.

Yeah, that sounds about right.

  
     

(5 channels open | connect)
 
071904 - Motivation, Part I   
04:53pm 10/08/2004
 
Up to now, the project had been going pretty well. Or, at least, as well as could be expected. Because of hang-ups earlier in the project, our portion started two weeks late, and we ran into a ridiculous number of both silly and serious problems along the way. But we were close. Given all of the setbacks, we had done a great job up to this point, and we were about a day away from getting the line running.

Unfortunately, the plant needed the line running today.

Which meant a visit from Bob. For some motivation.

This was not a good thing.

Bob was the manager for the line.

I'm not sure exactly how Bob became a manager. He was about the right age - late 20's - and the right size - stocky with a manager's beer gut - to have been an operator at some point, and it wasn't unusual to see operators get promoted to these sorts of positions. He certainly hadn't schmoozed his way up - he had the social skills of a brown bear, and his temper was the stuff of legend. Of course, at some point, "cracking the whip" becomes a part of every manager's job description. A good manager only does it because he has to, and then only applying the pressure he needs to get the job done. For Bob, "cracking the whip" was the reason he took the job. Despite the occasional shallow complaint about it, a certain animal glimmer came to his eye every time he mentioned 'showing someone who's boss'. He lived in a world apart from the rest of us, full of lazy suppliers/workers/technicians/contractors who constantly needed to be whipped in to shape. He proudly never understood the issues involved, but what he did know was that something wasn't happening the way he wanted it to - and that meant that you were a lazy bastard who needed to be reminded where your paycheck was coming from.

I'd been at the plant for a few hours already and was finally taking my first break - it was a hot day (the booths got up to over 100 degrees F that afternoon) and I was taking a minute to fill up my water bottle. That's when Bob caught up with me.

I quickly brought him up to date. He wasn't interested - he wanted to make his position clear.

"You've had all kinds of time before now to get your stuff done. That was your time. Today, I need to be running production. You're on my time now. Right now, you are the one who is keeping me from running my line, and I have a big problem with that."

And that was just the beginning.

As he went on, I just stood there, astonished. I had been in a few high-pressure situations before, but I had never actually seen a manager lose their cool. I knew what the situation was - he had reminded me of the timeline many, many times before - and I and my company had been working day and night to get them running. It had been days since I'd seen him anywhere near the line - before that day, he couldn't have cared less. But now, the system wasn't running when they needed it to. His boss was on his ass, and he felt powerless. The only thing he could think of to do was waste both of our time chewing me out. But, in holding me up, he was only making his problems worse. Stemming from futility, ending in futility...what a silly move.

So, in the middle of this his tirade, I cracked a smile.

This made him pause, stunned. The blood began rising to his face. It took him a second to find the words.

"Do you find this funny? Do you think this is funny? Because if you think this is funny, I can give your boss a call. I don't think he'd find this too funny."

I knew exactly what my boss would tell him. I wasn't worried.

But, he was the customer after all, and I knew my boss wouldn't appreciate the phone call.

So, I did my best fourth-grade "wiping the smile off my face" routine and curtly explained how, no, I didn't think this was funny, but that I really needed to get back to work if I was going to have any chance of fixing the situation.

This finally made sense to him on some level, and, with a harumph, he stomped off.

As soon as he was out of sight, my hidden smile crept back up. I took my break a few minutes longer than planned, refilling my water bottle and calling my boss, just to let him know that he was probably about to hear from the plant.

The rest of the day was long, hot, and hectic. There were still a few key things that needed set up, and a few bugs that needed to be ironed out. However, the line was up and running before we left that night, and their problems have been few since. I never saw Bob back at the line again.

I've been told that the majority of engineers only spend their first four years out of school engineering. After that, they end up in management. I don't plan to be a manager any time soon, but, when the day comes, I'll remember Bob - and the way not to be a manager.

  
     

(connect)
 
C92899548 - Error   
07:21pm 10/07/2004
 
From a paper on safety in robot design:

"We consider errors of human operation slip among three well-known human error types in particular: slips, lapses, and mistakes."

I guess "oopsies" and "screwing-up big time" just don't make it into scientific literature any more.

---

This gets me riled up. I can understand passing the Patriot Act in the crazy days right after 9/11. But, at this point, almost three years later, not taking every opportunity to dismantle it just makes you, Mr. Representative, look like a pinko fascist.

So, new T-shirt design. Black letters against a white background: "F*ck the Bill of Rights - Vote Republican."

Also in that series:
"Support Censorship - Vote Republican."
"America Should Be a Free-Speech Zone."
"Support Reproductive Rights. F*CK BUSH."

I know - politically insightful and classy.

---

Crazy busy. Will return someday.

  
     

(connect)
 
U93729549 - Cornycopia   
09:24pm 28/06/2004
 
St. Louis. What do you say?

The Service? Unremarkable. The Drivers? Freaking nuts. The Locals? Don't get me started.

However.

The Galleria was fun - huge. After the first half-mile of shops, I mentioned to the lady that "this mall makes me feel like a country bumpkin."

The Hill was great - tasty. Gino-Tony's is a must-visit if you ever come within two hours of the city. Olive Garden prices, but food that is the best thing to come out of Italy since Virgil and sham democracy.

The Arch was high - very high. And you could feel the wind blowing it around as you leaned far, far over to peek through the portholes. And the pods to the top were straight out of Kubrick movie. Pretty cool.

Overall, an excellent trip. Hopefully the lady and I will get a chance to hit it again before The Move, Part II. (We'll see if we can hit the art museum then, [info]blazepoet. Thanks for the rec!)

---

Also, the lady and I caught a showing of "Fahrenheit 9/11" last Saturday. The theatre was packed, and the word was that an earlier showing had been sold out. Looking over the audience, it seemed to be the geek date movie of choice. Everyone else had just heard that it was the "Michael Moore - Disney movie".

But, wow. Fascinating and important. An excellent portrait of the mindset of the country right now - and one of the only movies I've seen that got a round of applause at the end (the other being "Attack of the Clones" - although, there, I think most were just glad it was over). If it doesn't change your mind, it is guaranteed to make you think. I have the feeling that it's going to be a movie shown to our children and grandchildren in their high school history classes someday, if our way of life can last that long. At least, I hope so.

If you have movie ticket money, go see it. If you're down to your last $10, see it and buy a sandwich. You'll thank me. (Especially if it's a good sandwich.)

---

I've finally started showing up for my new local job - it's shaping up to be slightly better than the Wasteland.

Two quickies:

-The robots are Japanese, and the robot manuals are very Japanese. The authors, for accuracy's sake, put the mispronunciations right in the book. ("Exercise great carefulness! Are some signal deray in a paint rine communications!")

-Our electricians have the greatest business slogan ever. "Local Electric - Let Us Check Your Shorts!"

---

Summer shutdown has hit with a vengeance. I'm back in the Wasteland temporarily (and (all together now!) "hopefully for the last time!"), then back to the local project for two or three straight weeks. We're already about two weeks behind from all of the foot-dragging contractors before us - if we're lucky, we'll only have them shut down for an extra week or so.

So, in short, I'll be off the grid for a little while. (Right - like with my posting frequency, I'm even on the grid!) Hopefully something worthwhile when I return - probably with a new approach. Stay tuned.

In the meantime, I'm still reading, still making snarky comments. Write on, brothers and sisters. Write on.

  
     

(connect)
 
X93809505 - Arch   
12:39pm 19/06/2004
 
Well, the lady and I are in the midst of another one of our "Head-First" mini-vacations, this time to Ye Olde Rivere Towne of St. Louis. It's her last full weekend off for almost two months, and with July Shutdown coming up, Brahman knows I'm going to be busy in the next few weeks - so we thought a little trip was in order.

However, as the lady said, "We really need to start doing our homework before we arrive." :)

The Arch is on the list, along with the Galleria (going to be an expensive trip...) - any recommendations for other attractions/restaurants/neat places to hit?

---

From a stop at a gas stations along our long, late trip last night, a few quick thoughts on condoms.

1) Why dispensers at gas stations? Do people to top off the car before picking up the date? Or does it just come up when polling passengers - "Timmy needs a coke...Jenny wants a candy bar...Rufus gets a condom - of course, ribbed for her pleasure..."

2) Sure, a lot of the variations on the basic idea make sense - different thicknesses, sure, different structures, great, different flavors... hey, whatever tickles your fancy. But why different colors? Sure, you don't want something hideous-looking, but you shouldn't be seeing much of it if things are going well - and that's just assuming lights are on in the first place. Do some ladies only take guys with sky-blue condoms? Is dark green a mysterious mood-killer? Is black in with the goth crowd? Insight is always appreciated.

---

Report when I return. 5 pages. Double spaced.

  
     

(1 channel open | connect)
 
B93849556 - Homeslice   
10:12am 15/06/2004
 
Heard at a nearby department store:

"Look, Mommy! That woman looking at the scarves has a dog in the store! Is she blind?"
"Honey, from those scarves, you could tell she was blind long before we saw the dog."

---

Working through the insurance papers for the break-in, it's interesting all of the tiny twists and holes that the insurance company works into the policy.

Some unique items:
1) If a volcano erupts more than once in a 72-hour period, it's counted as one eruption.
2) If there's a riot and my stuff gets stolen, I'm covered. If there's a riot and I break my arm, I'm on my own. (I guess I'll just have to switch my flaming pitchfork to the other hand...)

(Speaking of riots - Note to self: write up and post Mr. Gold's Guide to Tear Gas: How to Run with Your Eyes Closed.)

---

Well, it looks like we can keep Blackberry. She finally came out from under the bed a few days ago, although she has yet to leave the second floor of her own free will. In another milestone, she and Punky yesterday managed to get within two feet of each other without fussing - as long as they pretended that the other one didn't exist. As soon as that eye-contact was made, though, Blackers began mewing like a husky police siren and Punky started vibrating like a pager. (Whatever happened to hissing, like normal cats?)

You can tell that Blackers is getting acclimated, though - she's started running her own version of the Punky 500. Unfortunately, the Blackers 500 has two major differences. One, hers is run at random times in the night - not for food, but for shock value. How do I know this? Because, two, instead of running across our legs, she runs across our heads.

Now, this bothers me. The lady seems less concerned. "You must be a light sleeper!" she says, as if waking up when some creature crawls across your face is an undesirable evolutionary trait. Perhaps the kitten is taking revenge for making her take her pills (a euphemism for "shoving pills in down her throat twice a day"), but, regardless, this will be fixed.

In completely unrelated news, we apparently won a free membership to the lady's parents' furniture buying service, from which we got our upcoming living room furniture for surprisingly good prices. So, if anyone in (or soon to be in) the continental US is looking for a good deal on furniture, drop me a line and we should be able to work something out.

---

Unusually few posts last week, especially for being back in town most of the time. With the northern hemi working its way into summer, I wonder if posting frequency drops off overall... As for me, I was spending my time workin' it for free t-shirts.

Expect a bit more action in the near future. (When did I begin to sound like a naughty fortune cookie?)

 
     

(3 channels open | connect)
 
Q93909522 - Glum   
09:25am 09/06/2004
 
I must have quite a reputation.

I just got a phone call from the manager of the Wasteland project on the robot company side - all of our work in the Wasteland was subcontracted under him. I've spoken with him twice, ever. We are not friends.

Ostensibly, he called to inquire about any remaining issues.

However, he made a big point about telling me to "Cheer up! Things could be a lot worse!"

I certainly wasn't the happiest camper out there, but, man... that was a strange call.

  
     

(1 channel open | connect)
 
V93949562 - The Lost   
07:49pm 05/06/2004
 
And the bizarreness continues. Damn - this is becoming a series.

This afternoon, I get a phone call from my father. No "hi" or "hello", simply-

"Do you know where your cell phone is?"

I pause for a second. "Why? Is it ten o'clock? I thought it was in my travel bag."

"Nope. Your brother just called from a wedding. You left it on the plane!"

Apparently, upon discovering a cell phone with no identification on it, the great people at Southwest begin trying random numbers in the address book. They caught my brother in the middle of photographing a wedding. It sounds like the conversation on my brother's end went something like:

"Hello?"

"Hi! This is Southwest. Do you know whose number we're calling from?"

After he got it straightened out, he called my father, and my father in turn called me.

Now, I never use my cell on a plane. In fact, I rarely use my cell phone ever. It's more of a security blanket than anything else - I try to keep it off to save on battery power. Thus, how it got left on the plane was something of a mystery.

And then, I remembered my arrival in the Wasteland.

This past trip, I had two checked bags. The first one had clothes, toiletries, and everything useful. In the second was a PLC that my boss had insisted I take on the trip, a cube-shaped device about a foot long on each side, encased in a zinc-plated housing and packed with all sorts of exotic-looking lights and electronics. It's the kind of thing that makes bag inspectors go, "Hmmm."

Upon pulling my second bag from the luggage carousel, I noticed my razor lying on the conveyor. I quickly grabbed it, then checked my bag. Apparently, in a fit of long and involved "Hmmm"-ing, the inspector had neglected to zip all of the pockets back up. All of the contents of that one particular pocket, save the razor I had just rescued, were gone.

I'm pretty sure my cell phone was in that pocket, too.

Thus, it is still in the Wasteland.

Lucky me, though, I get to make another trip back there this Monday for some unfinished business with the system. (The whole system works now except for a single, pesky user interface - and I'm stuck making silly day-trips back and forth until it's fixed. I guess I do have some reading to catch up on...) My father gave me the phone number for the baggage claim there, so I'll have to call them and make sure they hold onto it. Still...talk about randomness in the world.

---

When we moved into our new place, the plan from the get-go was to make it a two cat house. I was, of course, already saddled with the Punkster, and the lady wanted to finally bring her cat, Blackberry, into our home.

How to describe Blackberry?
  • First, Blackberry is black. 'Nuff said.

  • Second, Blackberry is old - seventeen years old. She has been the lady's cat that entire time, whether the lady was with her or not.

  • Third, Blackberry is spoiled rotten. My favorite tidbit about her is that she will only drink water that contains the proper number of ice cubes - not one more, and not one less. The number of required cubes started at one; it has since grown to four.

  • Finally, Blackberry is mean. She was well-known for beating down the two other cats at the lady's parent's house, along with being unafraid to challenge their five-stone dog, too. Stroke her the wrong way or when she doesn't invite you to, and you risk scar tissue. The lady is the only one who can handle her with impunity.

Punky has never lived with another cat before. We expected Punky and Blackberry to get along swimmingly - after Punky got used to the beat-downs.

Being old, Blackberry requires medicine, and, because of that, we didn't anticipate receiving her until the middle of July. I found out yesterday that the date had been moved up to... today.

The dynamic has seriously changed since her arrival.

This morning, Punky was up to her usual spate of evil. She announced that it was feeding time today by racing the Punky 500. This involves her slinking over to my side of the bed, jumping onto the mattress, running across the bed, myself, and the lady, then jumping off the other side and pausing briefly to check for the desired effect. Mew and repeat as needed. (She may be evil, but I have to give her points for creativity.)

After Blackberry's arrival early this afternoon, I walked in on a stand-off in the bedroom. Blackberry had claimed the territory underneath the bed, and Punky was crouched at the fringes, eyeing the new arrival suspiciously. Blackberry was hissing and purring with menace. Punky was dead silent.

The lady was lying on the bed, watching the scene unfold and enjoying every minute of it.

"I'm referee-ing the cat fight," she said. "And you say, "Hey, that sounds like a job I'd like!" Not that kind of cat fight, hon."

It's now edging on nighttime and the Blackers still hasn't come out from under the bed. We're going to have to drag her out and give her her pill sometime here...

Scratch that. The lady is going to have to drag her out and give her her pill sometime here. I like my skin right where it is, thank you very much.

Still - it looks like this step in the transition is going to be a lot more difficult than anticipated.

  
     

(connect)
 
K93969501 - "The Same Thing We Do Everyday, Pinky..."   
06:49am 03/06/2004
  [Error: Irreparable invalid markup ('<a [...] paragraph.jsp;jsessionid>') in entry. Owner must fix manually. Raw contents below.]

<br>Another twist on the bizarre karma of late:

A particularly violent storm hit Indiana on Sunday, spawning several tornados and stopping The Race short. My parent's house was in the path of one touch-down (although my parents didn't take the storm seriously until The Weather Channel said, "Tornados have been spotted <i>here</i>!" while the map zoomed in on the square mile surrounding their home :), and I got to see the damage Monday.

The house is in remarkably good shape - unscathed aside from a few strips of siding askew. The yard is littered with several enormous branches fallen from the surrounding trees, but nothing major near the house.

Particularly astonishing is a spot in the front yard, where a little dogwood sapling stands that my parents have been nursing for a few years. Although directly in the tornado's path, not a leaf on this plant was out of place, and, despite being between two huge maple trees, not a single branch fell within five feet of it. It's like the dogwood has its own little safety zone, completely insulated from tornados.

(Another perk to living in Tornado Alley: hearing weather spotters call into the TV station, recounting tales that simply beg for <a href="http://www.darwinawards.com/">Darwin Awards</a>. "We knew the storm was comin', so me and the family got in the car and drove into the city to see it. The tornado touched down just on the other side of the street!...")

---

Back in the Wasteland once again (as the chorus always goes, "hopefully for the last time!"), this time fighting a cold after beating down the immune system with stress last week. Testing yesterday went surprisingly well - after a few blips early in the day, we had about 15 parts that went through the system perfectly. It's going to take a lot more than that to make me feel comfortable, though, and the truly ugly system lies in wait this morning. I'm trying not to get optimistic, but I might be seeing a light at the end of the tunnel...

...or I might just be seeing stars.

At the moment, I'm caught in the classic LJ conundrum of "What's Worth Posting?" (WWTFD - What Would <lj user=theferrett> Do?) A few minor vignettes, some philosophical explorations, none of it really heart-pounding or interesting to someone not me. I feel like I need a graphic for some of it: "Warning! Entirely Frivolous!"

Meh. More thoughts (and more guts!) soon. In the meantime, meme-esque personality tests, borrowed from <lj user=xinamarie>.

<center>Your Brain Usage Profile:

Auditory : 50%
Visual : 50%
Left : 50%
Right : 50%</center>

You are one of those rare individuals who are perfectly "balanced" in both your hemispheric tendencies and your sensory learning preferences. However, there is both good news and bad news.

A problem with hemispheric balance is that you will tend to feel more conflict than someone who has a clearly established dominance. At times the conflict will be between what you feel and what you think but will also involve how you attack problems and how you perceive information. Details which will seem important to the right hemisphere will be discounted by the left and vice versa, which can present a hindrance to learning efficiently.

In the same vein, you may have a problem with organization. You might organize your time and/or space only to feel the need to reorganize five to ten weeks later.

On the positive side, you bring resources to problem-solving that others may not have. You can perceive the "big picture" and the essential details simultaneously and maintain the cognitive perspective required. You possess sufficient verbal skills to translate your intuition into a form which can be understood by others while still being able to access ideas and concepts which do not lend themselves to
language.

Your balanced nature might lead you to second-guess yourself in artistic endeavors, losing some of the fluidity, spontaneity and creativity that otherwise would be yours.

With your balanced sensory styles, you process data alternately, at times visually and other times auditorially. This usage of separate memories may cause you to require more time to integrate information or re-access it. When presented with situations which force purely visual or purely auditory learning, increased anxiety is likely and your learning efficiency will decrease.

Your greatest benefit is that you can succeed in multiple fields due to the great plasticity and flexibility you possess.

(The test can be found <a href=http://www.mindmedia.com/brainworks/first-
paragraph.jsp;jsessionid=9DB5E172D4DC9F4C36A66A32B22654DB">here</a>)

<div align="center"> <table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" bgcolor="#dddddd"> <tr> <td width="250"> <div align="center"> <font color="black"><b>INTJ</b> - "Mastermind". Introverted intellectual with a preference for finding certainty. A builder of systems and the applier of theoretical models. 2.1% of total population. </font></div> </td> </tr> </table> <a href="http://similarminds.com/embti.html">Take Free Myers-Briggs Personality Test</a><br><font size="1"><a href="htpp://similarminds.com">personality tests by similarminds.com</a></font></div>

<div align="center"><!-- 2.85 / 5.04 --><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="2" width="240"bgcolor="#e7e4e4"><tr> <td width="50%"><div align="center"> Conscious self</div> </td><td><div align="center">Overall self</div></td> </tr><tr><td width="50%"><div align="center"><img src="http://similarminds.com/images/9w1.gif" border="0"></div> </td><td><div align="center"><img src="http://similarminds.com/images/9w1-mean.gif" border="0"></div> </td></tr></table><a href="http://www.similarminds.com/embti.html">Take Free Enneagram Personality Test</a><br><font size="1"><a href="http://similarminds.com">personality tests by similarminds.com</a></font></div>

<div align="center"> <table style="color: black; background: #eeeeee"border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="2"> <tr> <td bgcolor="#eeeeee"> <div align="center"> Enneagram Test Results <table style="color: black; background: #dddddd" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="4" bgcolor="#dddddd"> <tr> <td>Type 1 </td> <td>Perfectionism</td> <td width="50"> ||||||||||||||||</td> <td width="30">63%</td> </tr> <tr> <td>Type 2</td> <td> Helpfulness</td> <td width="50">||||||||||</td> <td width="30">40%</td> </tr> <tr> <td> Type 3</td> <td> Image Awareness</td> <td width="50"> ||||||||||||</td> <td width="30"> 50%</td> </tr> <tr> <td>Type 4</td> <td>Sensitivity</td> <td width="50"> ||||||||||</td> <td width="30"> 36%</td> </tr> <tr> <td> Type 5</td> <td> Detachment</td> <td width="50"> ||||||||||||||||</td> <td width="30"> 63%</td> </tr> <tr> <td>Type 6</td> <td>Anxiety</td> <td width="50"> ||||||||||</td> <td width="30"> 40%</td> </tr> <tr> <td> Type 7</td> <td> Adventurousness</td> <td width="50"> ||||||||||</td> <td width="30"> 36%</td> </tr> <tr> <td> Type 8</td> <td>Aggressiveness</td> <td width="50"> ||||||||||||||</td> <td width="30"> 56%</td> </tr> <tr> <td> Type 9</td> <td>Calmness</td> <td width="50">||||||||||||||||</td> <td width="30"> 66%</td> </tr> </table> Your Conscious-Surface type is <b> 9w1</b> <br> Your Unconscious-Overall type is <b> 9w1</b> </div> </td> </tr> </table><a href="http://www.similarminds.com/embti.html">Take Free Enneagram Personality Test</a><br><font size="1"><a href="http://similarminds.com">personality tests by similarminds.com</a></font></div>

So, supervillain in the making, artistic leviathan, or perceptive, but a little <i>slow</i>? You decide.<br><br>
  
     

(2 channels open | connect)
 
I94699540 - One, Two...   
04:48pm 30/05/2004
 
I was going to post a cute little something to celebrate my 100th post, but life has a tendency to get in the way of plans...

I'm not sure what karma is catching up to me, but this past week was one of the worst in recent memory.

My two-day trip to the Wasteland quickly exploded into a week-long clusterfuck extravaganza of epic proportions. Software which used to work, ceased to work. Systems that were once reliable became failure-prone. Issues which had long since been settled were now dredged up and changed on a whim, and I lay powerless in the middle of it. (I can accept when something fails due to a mistake I've made, but it's just aggravating to discover that the error lies not in the program, but the computer.) After six straight 14-17 hour days filled with stress and frustration, I finally had to admit to my boss that the system was still problematic, and I had no idea how to fix it. His plan was to keep me there until I fixed it...

...until he heard Thing #2.

On Monday, my old apartment was broken into. We had been planning to move my things the previous Saturday, but, with the Clusterfuck in the Wasteland, that had to be changed. My retired neighbor, Bob, who is seemingly omni-present and keeps watch over our domain, had gone over to the office for about ten minutes in the middle of the afternoon, and, in that time, the theives kicked down the door and took stuff to the tune of a couple grand. The obviously weren't the sharpest knives in the set: they took the N64 power source, but left the N64. They took the Playstation 2, but left all of the games. They stole a box of the lady's contacts, useless to anybody who isn't nearly blind. The stole a few rolls of change, but left all of the bank account information. Bob called the police when he returned and noticed the door knocked off of its hinges. The cops arrived a few minutes later, but the perps were long gone. I heard about it a day later, when the property manager left a message on my work voicemail.

I have renter's insurance, though, and most of the losses are easily replaceable - the whole affair is more involuntary wealth redistribution than earth-shattering event. I guess it's what I deserve for bragging about my "ghetto roots".

(Aside: I was surprised by how sympathetic most were over the whole affair. Not that I didn't appreciate the sympathy, but it's not a particularly traumatic event - more of a "That sucks!" than a "I'm so sorry to hear that!". It's stuff. I lost stuff. It's not that important. As I've stated before, I don't believe in real security. I consider a day lucky when my stuff hasn't been stolen, no one I know has been killed or injured, and I get to drift off to sleep with the lady in my arms. Everything else is just icing. ("Tell him. Tell him, "The liberator who destroyed my property has realigned my perceptions."")

To be honest, considering where I lived, I'm more surprised that it didn't happen earlier.)

Informed of this and my continuing troubles in the Wasteland, the Powers That Be let me come home for a day to straighten everything out. My parents and I moved my remaining stuff over to the new place, and my project manager called the next day to tell me not to head back - the plant was going to be closed on the weekend, so we couldn't do anything anyway. Which means that, at the end of it, I got a very busy five-day weekend out of the deal.

So that's the essence of the lost week. (Again, [info]kimbyrle, my apologies for bailing on Wednesday. When the Wasteland gets wrapped up, you're mine for a day.)

The apartment is slowly coming together. I'm gradually working my way through the boxes, and things are slowly finding a place. The lady went furniture shopping in Chicago yesterday, and I think the damage totaled to a couch, two recliners, a kitchen cabinet-table, and a bookshelf. Her father is coming over to install the latter two today - we should finally have it all come mid-July. ("I flipped through catalogs and wondered: "What kind of dining set defines me as a person?"") I feel so domestic.

What is truly priceless, though, is that I get a few days off with her before I'm shipped back off to the middle of nowhere, hopefully to finish it. I look forward to the day when I can have a job that I love that won't make me fight for every second we spend together.

  
     

(4 channels open | connect)
 
C94809526 - Unpacking.   
01:25pm 19/05/2004
 
"I think I've found the problem."

After a few surgical movements deep inside the unit, the giant maintenance man pulled a charred, black, crumbling mass out from the depths of the air conditioner. A blade-shaped piece jutting off to one side was the only thing left to indicate that this mass was once a fan.

He stood up with the debris in hand and a quizzical look on his face. "Has anybody checked this out before?"

"We've only been living here for three days," my lady replied.

He nodded and took a closer look at the remains.

"I guess that explains all the boxes."

---

Move-In Day had its complications. There was a point where we thought we lost the cat. There was a point where we thought we lost her father (and, more importantly, our bed). We spent all day Saturday sorting and packing and moving her stuff, and now the rooms can be identified by the arrangement of boxes across their floors.

And this was only for her stuff. Mine's coming this weekend.

It doesn't help that I will be the one providing most of our carry-over furniture. It feels kind of like college again - right now, we have four chairs and bed, with various combinations of boxes making up the rest of the furniture.

The transition to having a roommate has been very smooth so far. Both the lady and I are still wrapped up in both the newness of the experience and the excitement of having the other nearby. Everything is still in flux, and we're in a holding pattern while we wait for it all to settle down. I kind of wish that she had an LJ of her own right now - I'd really love to read her take on this. (Hint, hint, hon.)

Punky has not had it so easy. She spooked as soon as we started moving the bed, and she didn't take well to being shoved bodily into a pet-carrier. She spent the next day and a half cowering under the bed, but eventually she dropped the grudge and is now back in form. She can now be found either begging for food or laid out on some flat surface nearby.

The work schedule has filled up in the last two days. Back to the Wasteland tomorrow for a mercifully short two-day stint, followed by safety training on Tuesday ("Let's imagine that your toast is jammed in the toaster, and all you've got is a butterknife..."), followed by a quickie trip down to [info]kimbyrle's country next Wednesday (how about dinner?), followed by installation at the nearby cakewalk job starting the following Monday. I'm sure there will be more to come.

---

The area we're now living in, which I will cleverly dub "The Northside", is considered the wealthy part of the city - mostly just a white-bread suburb that exploded when several corporate headquarters moved to the area. It's been tempting to take some potshots at the faux surrounding the money, but, to be honest, that's both cliche and unfair. As with everyone, they are only people, living life to the best of their paycheck - no need to be mean-spirited.

There are some situations, though, you just can't pass up.

My old apartment was located just north of the city's Spanish ghetto, in a very urban, working-class, racially-diverse neighborhood. The real trashy "ghetto" complex was just down the street. All of those stereotypes you encounter about "living in the 'hood" - the dealer on the corner, the pick-up b-ball games, the tricked-out cars from the '70s with spinners and stereos worth more than the vehicle - they were up close and personal on a daily basis.

The lady and I spent yesterday evening shopping for apartment stuff, winding our way through lanes of Beamers and Escalades on our way from one upscale superstore to another. As we were heading back to our car at one store, a familiar thumping began to fill the air. Our heads turned in unison, and conversation stopped when we found the source. Like a train wreck, you couldn't tear your gaze away from the low-riding white '70s Lincoln slowly cruising through the Walmart parking lot, the cranked-up crunk rattling the pavement with every snap of the kick-drum.

And driving this ghetto hyperbole was a skinny, blonde white boy wearing a wife beater and gold chains, laying down in the driver's seat, one hand on the steering wheel, nodding his head to the beat of the mobile earthquake, intent on showing off the fruits of his middle-class upbringing.

It was a moment every black comic dreams about. Some moments just need a Chris Rock.

  
     

(1 channel open | connect)
 
E94939562 - Cool   
10:06pm 06/05/2004
 
A few of you have posted previously, looking for good albums to get. And, every time, I keep forgetting a big one: Peter Gabriel's US. An absolutely fabulous album - great songs, high replay value. If one ever needed an excuse to get a good sound system, this would be it.

Seduced by the noise and bright things that glisten
I knew all the time I should shut up and listen
And I'm finding my way home from the great escape...

---

The robots were a big hit at the open house. Or at least so our project manager tells me. He's been known to blow smoke before, but, hey - I had fun. There were a couple of kids that came through with their parents (I guess the owner had invited everyone in his family), and the ones that were old enough to reach the mouse got a big thrill out of pressing a button and making the robots move. After seeing the result, one little girl grabbed the mouse and started clicking like mad, not realizing that, after the robots start, they run until they finish the program. It was absolutely precious. :) It honestly makes me kind of excited about the preschoolers tomorrow - I'm really curious about how they'll react to the setup. ("But, but - they can't be robots! There's no heads!")

(Now, just have to figure out how to explain electrostatics to a group of preschoolers...)

And the big entertainment they had planned? Given that it's May in Indianapolis (I don't know what month you think it is in the rest of the world), how could it be anything but racing? In this case, fish racing. Two plexiglas tanks about three feet long filled with water, with a little plexiglas door at one end that could be opened, kind of like a horse stall at a race track. Along with a fishbowl with a reserve of twenty or so racing hopefuls, there were about ten fish in their own bowls and given names based upon famous Indy 500 drivers - Arie Luyenfish, Bubbles Gordon, Sarah Fisher. Apparently, the fish taking them all to school was Al Urchin, Jr., who won every race fins-down, and had the five fastest times of all of the competitors.

The part that I got a kick out of most was that the racing tanks leaked. Not full-on, gushing water leaked, but the table was trimmed with buckets and styrofoam cups to catch the droplets as they dribbled out. I thought it was something of an apt metaphor for my company.

 
     

(connect)
 
H94949595 - Post-Punk Post   
11:51pm 05/05/2004
 
Janeane Garofalo nailed it on the head recently on the Daily Show: "The country is so divided right now, I'm beginning to think that voting Republican is a character flaw."

In related political news - in this time of war on both moral and political fronts, a new special interest group is lobbying to get more Americans outdoors.

---

On the normal side of life, things are going well. Tomorrow is the company's big open house that I was preparing the robots for, and all three people in management are going crazy, running hither and thither to make sure everything is ready. The owner's wife is even taking part in this, setting the dress code (our beige company golf shirts with khaki pants? Can we get more bland?) and planning the entertainment (which is still a mystery, considering that my dancing robots will be the coolest thing in a two-mile radius. (Will be? Are.)). In addition to the open house, the owner's wife (or "Supreme Being," as she is referred to by her husband and, thus, the rest of the company) is leading a tour of preschoolers through our office Friday morning, to whom I will again be demonstrating our "Steel Flowers of Yellow Happiness," as the Japanese call it.

Am I the only one who thinks that a group of preschoolers getting a demonstration of some seemingly-harmless robots sounds like the set-up to some cheesy horror flick?

In other news, the definition of "Move-In Day" has recently become slurred due to a mismatching of some key dates. The lady graduates this weekend and starts her new job this coming Monday. We move into our new apartment starting the following Saturday. Thus, she'll actually be living in my apartment for five days before we really start moving into our apartment. "Move-In Day" is now "Gradually Get Used To Each Other Week." (BTW, anyone interested in helping us move? Food will be involved! *looks around hopefully*)

I still can't quite get my head around it, though - it's strange to think that I'll again be sharing a living space with someone after so much time on my own. I sense many interesting stories to come.

  
     

(4 channels open | connect)
 
F95729563 - Sheep, Guns, and Robots.   
05:28pm 28/04/2004
 
+1 memesheepage. Yoinked from [info]teya_uk and [info]xinamarie equally.

1. Go into your LJ's archives.
2. Find your 23rd post (or closest to).
3. Find the fifth sentence (or closest to).
4. Post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions.

From one of my favorite posts, "Don't Question My Authority" (back in the days of song lyrics and short sentences!)

"I think it's funny that my first thought was, "Are they really taking this route? Or is this a ruse? Because if I was a t*rr*rist, this map would be golden.""

---

I wanted to link this last time, but forgot:

Slate recently had a very interesting article about the motivations behind the Columbine shootings that will probably change the way you think about it. Not topic of the day, I know - but interesting.

---

A few months ago, out on site, I got a nasty wake-up call when a rather pricey system I had designed failed in a big, big way. I hadn't crunched any numbers on it when I probably should have, but it was way behind schedule already and "seat-of-the-pants" design is not uncommon around here. What made it even more embarrassing was that our salesman, who was on site with me and has exactly zero engineering background, was the one who came up with our temporary solution.

Since then, I have spent a lot of time thinking about it, talking about it, crunching the numbers, and everything has told me that the damn thing should have worked. After going back through my notes, I thought I figured out the (simple) problem.

Today, I finally hooked it up to a test system in our shop identical to the one on site.

It worked like a bloody charm.

I was ecstatic.

My boss drove back up to the plant today to discuss a revamp of the system, and I've brought this success up at every opportunity. The customer wants the temporary fix made permanent, and the boss wants to use most of my design ideas in the process.

It sounds like I've redeemed myself on this one.

To make the day better - we've got four robots out in the shop, and I've been given the job of setting them up. *smiles and stretches* Sorry, honey - I'll probably have to put in some long hours on this one...

Yeah. This is a good day.

  
     

(4 channels open | connect)
 
R95739582 - Pre-mid Post.   
04:57pm 26/04/2004
 
There are several different types of communication systems (Ethernet, dial-up, serial) used in factories. One I am working with now is called MARIO, an acronym derived from a mishmash of company names and industry jargon.

Which is also the name of one of the best-loved characters in video game history.

So, now, every time I run into this comm system, I compulsively say, "It's-a me... Mario!"

I'm sure psychologists have a term for this.

Allah help me if LUIGI becomes a standard.

---

Now that I'm back in the office, the guys are wasting no time in starting up the harassment.

"You were born when?"

"1981."

"What month?"

"July."

"What? Like that makes a difference?"

"Well, it makes the difference whether I was in eighth grade or ninth grade."

---

After the lady turned down the job at her store, it didn't take long for offers to come pouring in in droves from other stores in the area. After holding out a week or two, she finally got an offer she couldn't refuse. Not a "swim wit da fishes" sort of thing - more like a "manager of the biggest counter in the city for that line" sort of thing (which must also mean that it's one of the top two or three in the state). In this line of work, the offer couldn't get any better: it's a bigger counter, better pay, more responsibility - she gets three counter elves to manage - and, on top of all that, it's close to home.

This is also an unusually big step for someone in her company. Normally, one moves into this sort of job from another management position - she's moving up from being a part-time counter elf.

What can I say? She interviews well. I'm very excited for her.

Now that that's taken care of, all we have left is:

a) get utilities straightened out.
2) move everything over.
iii) survive the aftermath.

I just did the math, and, in the past six years, I've moved an average of once every seven months. This is old hat by now.

T-minus three weeks.

---

So, since I've gotten a few more readers since the last incarnation, and my lurkerdom obliges me to, I'll now resurrect the Three Questions meme. Leave three questions in the comments, and I'll answer 'em. Then post the meme in your journal.

To keep things interesting, though, I'll also throw in a variant of [info]theferrett's variant of this - I'll post three answers in the comments, and you guys figure out the questions, Jeopardy-style. If enough responses appear, there might be a prize for the best question; I'm finding all kinds of cool stuff packing up my apartment.

  
     

(4 channels open | connect)
 
B95869508 - Shadow of Epic   
11:40pm 13/04/2004
 
Back in the Wasteland - hopefully for the last time.

I was going to take a great picture for you guys tonight, but, unfortunately, my camera's batteries died at just the wrong time. The shot would have been one of the road's end just outside my hotel, cutting off abruptly at a bright orange sign, with a cluster of tall, tangled weeds beginning just where the road ends. It was to be quite symbolic of the Wasteland: on this side, security - home and humanity; on the other side, six foot werewolves with a taste for human blood. At least, that's according to the hotel manager's favorite T-shirt: "I Fought Six Foot Werewolves With A Taste For Human Blood, And This Lousy T-Shirt Still Cost An Arm And A Leg."

---

The lady opted not to take the offer in Bloomington, so to Indy it is. We'd already had the kind of place we wanted in mind, so, on a day off, we scoped out a few possibilities - long story short, we've picked out a new pad. The size and location of it is great for both of us - my drive to work will be a bit shorter, and we're reasonably close to wherever she will end up working. The place is managed by the same company as my present apartment complex, so there are no new deposits or fees. And, to top it all off, the timing should work out so that at no point will my betrothed be living on the street. We're both pretty excited. She's already planning out how to decorate the place with my tax refund.

T-minus 4 weeks to Move-In Day.

---

I'm re-reading the Aeneid in preparation for tackling Broch's Death of Virgil. (A little out of the blue, I know, but his Geist und Zeitgeist was so sharp that I couldn't bear to pass this one up.)

I've been surprised by how much I remember from my first reading of it, and also surprised how my reactions have changed. This time around, the fall of Troy was surprisingly moving. When reading the Illiad, I was sympathetic to both sides - even though Achilles was a blood-thirsty killing machine, he was still a mama's boy caught in a nasty feud with Agamemnon. I didn't realize before how brilliant a job Virgil did in drawing out the great tragedy in the city's destruction - absolutely haunting.

(And, although pretty, I don't quite see this as being the face that launched a thousand ships.)

I also just finished Book IV - I remembered Dido having a bit more of a bittersweet soliloquy, more along the lines of "I know you have a great fate ahead of you, oh how I will miss you so" rather than "Go to Hades, boy!" This time around, though, no hint of sweetness at all.

Interesting how these things develop with age. I'll have to try this again in another few years.

---

This trip is not going to be the fun one. One of the worst things about this job is that, like here, I often have to wear a paintsuit, a huge, stuffy coverall that doesn't breathe, absorbs everything, and, from the neck down, makes me resemble the Michelin Man dyed a gentle baby blue. (From the neck up, I of course resemble a young Harrison Ford with a beard.)

(Right now, literally six people across America are thinking, "You know, a young Harrison Ford isn't too far off...")

The suit makes this job particularly nasty since the entire plant is kept at a constant 80 degrees. And, on top of that, I'm still fighting off the Cold That Will Not Die, which has already slain Sudafed and laughed in the face of Claritin. (Both me and the suit are stuffy! Ha!)

Bugger all. Lady Luck and DayQuil, you are my only hope.

  
     

(4 channels open | connect)
 
 
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