I meant to come post a bloody story I wrote here. I'm not sure whether I thought better of it or whether I just forgot. For all that I post raw and intensely here, I don't typically post gruesome, and perhaps I should keep it that way.
The situation with another nasty roommate continues to deteriorate. I actually shouted at him last night, then cried and felt sick and tasted and smelled acrid for the rest of the night. There is a potential new tenant coming to see my room today. If she takes it, I will move downstairs and not be next to him anymore.
Friendly roommate continues to be friendly and supportive; friends have been accessible, and I have been doing better for the last couple of weeks at accessing them.
I've pushed some regularity into my medication schedule, taking my pills at 10 each morning. I think I might shift that to 8 now that I've been regularly sleeping nights for a few days. Waiting until 11 to eat in order not to interfere with their absorption is annoying. Waiting until 9 would not be so bad I think.
The new stability feels weird sometimes. Like the world is flatter. Not grey and dull and uninteresting, just more level and approachable. Less shaking around, less steep slopes to climb. It's like every footstep takes a little less effort and is a lot less scary. I didn't realize the schedule would make such a big difference, and regardless I don't think I was ready for it before.
I'm paused in the middle of reading documentation for a programming tool so I can try to rewrite parts of it better and clearer, and work on a portfolio to pursue technical writing work remotely online. In light of the pandemic it seems like a decent move, but actually... I took some time to reflect a short time ago and recognize that I don't want anything to tie me to Kitchener.
I want to go back to my friends in the states. I don't want a job that would keep me here any longer than a few months, and even temporary jobs may be... "sticky" that way, tempting to stay on longer. So it's more about that than COVID, really. It's more that once it's safe, I want to go and be with the family of people who support me, give cohabitation another chance. Give dealing with each other another, better chance, more carefully this time.
It's lonely staying alone inside, far from my intimate companions and uncertain of the future. But then, it always has been, really. Not much has changed for my day to day life personally in the light of pandemic except that I feel like I'm not supposed to go out for walks - and when I go to buy groceries and household essentials, there are long discouraging lines a lot of the time.
In a certain tongue in cheek way, I've been occasionally remembering a Daft Punk song which has never seemed more appropriate. I Remember Touch...
Showing posts with label Goals. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Goals. Show all posts
Monday, April 20, 2020
Sunday, August 19, 2018
Dear Memory: Travel Diary
Wednesday 15th, August 2018
Dear Memory:
Today I set out. My bags are packed; They are heavy.
My body is tired, my way long since decided.
Before me there is only to go a long way for a very long day,
full of pulling heavy bags and full of waiting.
But I come today, across land and sky, across the sea I come toward you.
What will happen now?
~~~~~
At London Greyhound: 1:18 PM
Cabin bag 12 kg or 26 lb: 35.75 lb
Checked bag 20 kg or 44 lb:79.65 49 lb
I packed too much for my voyage. Both my large bags were beyond the weight allowance my flight would grant me, and one was too much even for the bus. Feeling numb and imperative more than regretful, I ripped content out of the heaviest bag, and gave it over to a lady at the Greyhound counter, to be brought to lost and found, and eventually to be donated away. My D&D books, the first I ever owned, were thus sent away. I had decided against selling them, in a fit of sentimentality. Two swimming suits; and my old laptop, now replaced; and tablet seldom used. There is enough personal information on the one, probably, to steal my identity, if poor luck put it in hands that would. But it was with only the grim swiftness of a decision that must be made without hesitation, even if it must be made in error.
My wrist aches from writing on this pad, but I will to tell the story, so I write. I must pull more weight again from both my bags before I fly. Clothes, mostly, I will prefer to consent to abandon. Perhaps a book, and some toiletries if need be. The bus sets out, and I sit in it, as quiet and grim as an inevitable. I do not grieve. I follow my course.
At Pearson International Airport: 5:14 PM
The airport is confusing to navigate and lacks enough available information assistance for a traveler to find someone at hand to unconfuse it for them. However, I have taken this path before, and in the place where visual cues call back to the former experience, I remember enough to make my way more confidently. I left myself ample time, which helped. I did not need to hurry.
In a little heap behind a check-in gate, I left an array of belongings which I have cherished in their time. A stack of old CDs including the game Wolf was left along with clothes laboriously repaired and fondly worn. My broad hat. My grey rain jacket. The faceless rabbit, my companion since before London, when I rescued it from a Christmas drive it was too handmade to serve, was left there on the floor to be tidied away where the airport staff might put it. Perhaps to landfill. My box of dice stayed in my big suitcase to go with me.
These choices may sting, but in truth, I would go and leave everything if I must. It would likely even be easier than choosing which and what to consign away to the blind world which knows none of the stories of these things. Most of the elements of my shrine were left at home, to whoever would live there after me. The musical jewelry box and the fierce red bull sit on a bookshelf to be adopted or admired or discarded, and an empty waxen skull sits on a dead mantle long closed to any use of a real hearthfire, grinning over a basement den, for as long as it is left there. I kissed its crown one last time in reverence before I left. I go, seeking my dreams more boldly perhaps than ever I have... or then, maybe not, given the many journeys I have taken. But I go, and fulfil the promise I made by that candle gloriously.
I treasured these things, but mostly I treasure the memories carried on them. I leave much behind, but it is with a heart willing, and the abandonment of old relics helps me to feel new. They are only things, and I would give up more than I have for the sake of my friendships, which are greater; or just for my freedom, which is also greater. If I had to.
My flight should board soon.
At Keflavik Airport: 4:33 AM local time
My phone's clock reads 12:33. My headset has begun, while on the flight, to lose its strength in the wires by the speaker jack. Like the last one, the bundle of tiny wires inside must have twisted enough to sever almost all of them. I sit and write in a beautifully white bathroom where every stall has its own sink, and a door with no substantial gap underneath it. I was driven there largely by a keen and self-conscious awareness that I smell of menstruation. Probably, it is mainly a function of having worn the same clothes for so many hours in succession, having had to sit still in one spot for so long.
I remember that I meant to look up the phone number of my contact at the house where there is a room waiting for me on Ashfield St. A repeated announcement calls out in some English and some Icelandic for someone with a name that, to me, only sounds a bit like "alien saucepan".
I am tired. It has been too much dull restraint now to feel any glory, or at least any but slight occasional flickers, at my imminent and ongoing return. I did still enjoy the thrill of my last plane building up speed for the great rush that would lift it off the ground, after so long being teased by occasional accelerations that were only to taxi out to our designated runway.
I am tired from sitting still. From enduring the child behind me kicking my seat. From turning aside my thoughts when they wandered to the emergency door near me, and the long scream and fatal drop that could lie beyond. Or contemplated death in a crash, or in the sea in some emergency. I am more than half way through the part of my journey involving flight. I look forward to sleep, on a soft bed somewhere distant. After that, I will be able to begin to take on the tasks of my return and settling in.
At Ashfield, Carlow: 4 PM, Thursday 16, August 2018
I am here. The cool air greets me welcomely. The trees in their robes of ivy and all the walls and farmland look beautiful to me. The wind blows rain like seaspray and clouds like quickly passing crowds. All smells of sea and soil and, slightly, horses. My host met me and tried to help me see where things were. Gave me my keys and a lift to town, to Aldi where I bought some pillows and food.
Saturday 18th, August 2018
I type up the handwritten notes of my journey. It is about a quarter to four in the morning, in my little bright bedroom on the second floor of a neat little house in Ashfield. Not Ashfield St, for that is not quite how things are here. Ashfield is a neighborhood. A little expansion of duplex houses, pretty much all looking the same, and with a little road winding between them.
I am tired, and think I may sleep after this typing. I have slept mostly in evening, up until midnight, so far, and then again in the morning after an interim few hours of midnight activity. So shall it be today, although I mean to rouse myself earlier today than yesterday from my morning nap. I'll hope to seek out some place to access internet, post this blog, talk to my friends... and see whether I have yet any word from my Dear Memory, to whom I left a message: "I am back".
Perhaps I will ask my housemates to take me into town. Maybe to the library, or the grocery. It is hard, but I must constantly remind myself that during the morning, those friends I know best will not be around. The time zone difference would make it deep night for them, when they should be sleeping.
I have learned over the past day that I will need to find a job offer and then a PPS number, in order to take work in Ireland. I should go to Intereo for the number after I have an offer, with my passport, and a proof of address, and a letter of offer. I might open a bank account once I have a proof of address or student ID card.
I have rediscovered that in Ireland, candy tastes better. I remembered thinking this, but the substance of it does not really ring clear until the difference between flavours is in one's mouth again. I bought a couple of sticks of red licorice twist from a convenience store at the near edge of town, where I stopped to look around and speak to the lady behind the counter and ask if I might leave my CV there, once I've prepared one. Yes. And I did not eat the licorice for some time, but carried it in my bag and carried on my way. But it is so full of flavour, like red soda and some kind of delicious fruit. By comparison, a lot of candy from Canada tastes of almost nothing but stale sugar. I might well wind up stopping by Hegarty's to buy a small amount of candy fairly often. The open sweet bins behind the counter are delightfully nostalgic to me of the penny and dime candies at the gas station back in Killaloe. My Killaloe, the little village of my childhood.
My mind wanders to all manner of fantasy over you, my Dear Memory. I imagine meeting, over and over. I imagine singing to you. I imagine lying next to you, on grass under a tree, or in bed to sleep. I imagine asking you demurely a vast array of happy little invitations. I wonder that I ever felt muted in my feelings toward you. I have felt giddy and romantic and happy and suspenseful, and surprisingly little worried.
Typing up my notes here, I had the opportunity to now process the little feelings of loss at the property I have left behind. Feel a pang of anxiety over the accounts my old laptop may have still been signed in to. A little twinge of sadness over my old beloved D&D books, kept with me for 12 years, and the faceless rabbit doll, and a computer game that meant a lot to me as a very young child, and which I wonder to myself whether it can be found online. What is done is done, however, and I would not reverse it, though I do feel the loss. An the serpent sheds its skin it is cleaner and shinier, but also more naked and perhaps vulnerable for a time in softer scales not yet grown thick with scars.
Dear Memory:
Today I set out. My bags are packed; They are heavy.
My body is tired, my way long since decided.
Before me there is only to go a long way for a very long day,
full of pulling heavy bags and full of waiting.
But I come today, across land and sky, across the sea I come toward you.
What will happen now?
~~~~~
At London Greyhound: 1:18 PM
Cabin bag 12 kg or 26 lb: 35.75 lb
Checked bag 20 kg or 44 lb:
I packed too much for my voyage. Both my large bags were beyond the weight allowance my flight would grant me, and one was too much even for the bus. Feeling numb and imperative more than regretful, I ripped content out of the heaviest bag, and gave it over to a lady at the Greyhound counter, to be brought to lost and found, and eventually to be donated away. My D&D books, the first I ever owned, were thus sent away. I had decided against selling them, in a fit of sentimentality. Two swimming suits; and my old laptop, now replaced; and tablet seldom used. There is enough personal information on the one, probably, to steal my identity, if poor luck put it in hands that would. But it was with only the grim swiftness of a decision that must be made without hesitation, even if it must be made in error.
My wrist aches from writing on this pad, but I will to tell the story, so I write. I must pull more weight again from both my bags before I fly. Clothes, mostly, I will prefer to consent to abandon. Perhaps a book, and some toiletries if need be. The bus sets out, and I sit in it, as quiet and grim as an inevitable. I do not grieve. I follow my course.
At Pearson International Airport: 5:14 PM
The airport is confusing to navigate and lacks enough available information assistance for a traveler to find someone at hand to unconfuse it for them. However, I have taken this path before, and in the place where visual cues call back to the former experience, I remember enough to make my way more confidently. I left myself ample time, which helped. I did not need to hurry.
In a little heap behind a check-in gate, I left an array of belongings which I have cherished in their time. A stack of old CDs including the game Wolf was left along with clothes laboriously repaired and fondly worn. My broad hat. My grey rain jacket. The faceless rabbit, my companion since before London, when I rescued it from a Christmas drive it was too handmade to serve, was left there on the floor to be tidied away where the airport staff might put it. Perhaps to landfill. My box of dice stayed in my big suitcase to go with me.
These choices may sting, but in truth, I would go and leave everything if I must. It would likely even be easier than choosing which and what to consign away to the blind world which knows none of the stories of these things. Most of the elements of my shrine were left at home, to whoever would live there after me. The musical jewelry box and the fierce red bull sit on a bookshelf to be adopted or admired or discarded, and an empty waxen skull sits on a dead mantle long closed to any use of a real hearthfire, grinning over a basement den, for as long as it is left there. I kissed its crown one last time in reverence before I left. I go, seeking my dreams more boldly perhaps than ever I have... or then, maybe not, given the many journeys I have taken. But I go, and fulfil the promise I made by that candle gloriously.
I treasured these things, but mostly I treasure the memories carried on them. I leave much behind, but it is with a heart willing, and the abandonment of old relics helps me to feel new. They are only things, and I would give up more than I have for the sake of my friendships, which are greater; or just for my freedom, which is also greater. If I had to.
My flight should board soon.
At Keflavik Airport: 4:33 AM local time
My phone's clock reads 12:33. My headset has begun, while on the flight, to lose its strength in the wires by the speaker jack. Like the last one, the bundle of tiny wires inside must have twisted enough to sever almost all of them. I sit and write in a beautifully white bathroom where every stall has its own sink, and a door with no substantial gap underneath it. I was driven there largely by a keen and self-conscious awareness that I smell of menstruation. Probably, it is mainly a function of having worn the same clothes for so many hours in succession, having had to sit still in one spot for so long.
I remember that I meant to look up the phone number of my contact at the house where there is a room waiting for me on Ashfield St. A repeated announcement calls out in some English and some Icelandic for someone with a name that, to me, only sounds a bit like "alien saucepan".
I am tired. It has been too much dull restraint now to feel any glory, or at least any but slight occasional flickers, at my imminent and ongoing return. I did still enjoy the thrill of my last plane building up speed for the great rush that would lift it off the ground, after so long being teased by occasional accelerations that were only to taxi out to our designated runway.
I am tired from sitting still. From enduring the child behind me kicking my seat. From turning aside my thoughts when they wandered to the emergency door near me, and the long scream and fatal drop that could lie beyond. Or contemplated death in a crash, or in the sea in some emergency. I am more than half way through the part of my journey involving flight. I look forward to sleep, on a soft bed somewhere distant. After that, I will be able to begin to take on the tasks of my return and settling in.
At Ashfield, Carlow: 4 PM, Thursday 16, August 2018
I am here. The cool air greets me welcomely. The trees in their robes of ivy and all the walls and farmland look beautiful to me. The wind blows rain like seaspray and clouds like quickly passing crowds. All smells of sea and soil and, slightly, horses. My host met me and tried to help me see where things were. Gave me my keys and a lift to town, to Aldi where I bought some pillows and food.
Saturday 18th, August 2018
I type up the handwritten notes of my journey. It is about a quarter to four in the morning, in my little bright bedroom on the second floor of a neat little house in Ashfield. Not Ashfield St, for that is not quite how things are here. Ashfield is a neighborhood. A little expansion of duplex houses, pretty much all looking the same, and with a little road winding between them.
I am tired, and think I may sleep after this typing. I have slept mostly in evening, up until midnight, so far, and then again in the morning after an interim few hours of midnight activity. So shall it be today, although I mean to rouse myself earlier today than yesterday from my morning nap. I'll hope to seek out some place to access internet, post this blog, talk to my friends... and see whether I have yet any word from my Dear Memory, to whom I left a message: "I am back".
Perhaps I will ask my housemates to take me into town. Maybe to the library, or the grocery. It is hard, but I must constantly remind myself that during the morning, those friends I know best will not be around. The time zone difference would make it deep night for them, when they should be sleeping.
I have learned over the past day that I will need to find a job offer and then a PPS number, in order to take work in Ireland. I should go to Intereo for the number after I have an offer, with my passport, and a proof of address, and a letter of offer. I might open a bank account once I have a proof of address or student ID card.
I have rediscovered that in Ireland, candy tastes better. I remembered thinking this, but the substance of it does not really ring clear until the difference between flavours is in one's mouth again. I bought a couple of sticks of red licorice twist from a convenience store at the near edge of town, where I stopped to look around and speak to the lady behind the counter and ask if I might leave my CV there, once I've prepared one. Yes. And I did not eat the licorice for some time, but carried it in my bag and carried on my way. But it is so full of flavour, like red soda and some kind of delicious fruit. By comparison, a lot of candy from Canada tastes of almost nothing but stale sugar. I might well wind up stopping by Hegarty's to buy a small amount of candy fairly often. The open sweet bins behind the counter are delightfully nostalgic to me of the penny and dime candies at the gas station back in Killaloe. My Killaloe, the little village of my childhood.
My mind wanders to all manner of fantasy over you, my Dear Memory. I imagine meeting, over and over. I imagine singing to you. I imagine lying next to you, on grass under a tree, or in bed to sleep. I imagine asking you demurely a vast array of happy little invitations. I wonder that I ever felt muted in my feelings toward you. I have felt giddy and romantic and happy and suspenseful, and surprisingly little worried.
Typing up my notes here, I had the opportunity to now process the little feelings of loss at the property I have left behind. Feel a pang of anxiety over the accounts my old laptop may have still been signed in to. A little twinge of sadness over my old beloved D&D books, kept with me for 12 years, and the faceless rabbit doll, and a computer game that meant a lot to me as a very young child, and which I wonder to myself whether it can be found online. What is done is done, however, and I would not reverse it, though I do feel the loss. An the serpent sheds its skin it is cleaner and shinier, but also more naked and perhaps vulnerable for a time in softer scales not yet grown thick with scars.
Thursday, April 5, 2018
Dear Future: Remember to Be Awesome
This post isn't written to Eoin, it's written to me, Serp, in the future when I look back over my blog, with someone else or alone. Hi, Serp.
I've been doing pretty sweet, despite a long stretch of repeatedly very little sleep. Today, I found myself listening to a very cheerful song I like on repeat, and went a surprising length of time without getting sick of it. Instead, I built a happy fantasy around the song. And like last week, I decided that instead of chiding myself for my fantasy and the expression of something I cared about but might never achieve... I would see where I could follow it. In this case, I followed it into the big empty football field near my house where I could expect other people not to hear me talking to myself, imagining something delicious, and deliciously plausible, if not necessarily likely.
I paced, and thought, and recited, arranging the words of a speech. And then I turned back to the song and practiced singing it, until I got through the whole song once or twice, along with the short speech. I came back home, and wrote the speech down.
Serp, I don't know whether you made it back to Athlone or wound up somewhere else. I don't know whether Eoin is with you, or whether he ever will be. But no matter where you are, or who you're near, remember how delicious that idea was. Go back and reread it, if it helps. You have the capacity to dream beautiful dreams. And I know that someday, if you keep trying, you will be able to make some of them a reality.
Maybe the plot I schemed up today doesn't work for you where you are now. Maybe you've seen a flaw in it that I don't see. If this particular one never happens, that's alright. You can think up something else. Something better. Just... remember that it's not a waste of time to dream beautiful dreams. It's not. It gives you ideas about how to get to them. You just have to be willing to look at them in the right way. You need a little hope for a brighter day. A little love to find the way.
And remember the vlogbrothers. Remember ToadyOne. Remember Elon Musk and Eliezer's Harry and Dave Moreland and all the other people who have inspired you. Remember that you don't need to be afraid of them. Follow their lead. Don't Forget To Be Awesome.
I've been doing pretty sweet, despite a long stretch of repeatedly very little sleep. Today, I found myself listening to a very cheerful song I like on repeat, and went a surprising length of time without getting sick of it. Instead, I built a happy fantasy around the song. And like last week, I decided that instead of chiding myself for my fantasy and the expression of something I cared about but might never achieve... I would see where I could follow it. In this case, I followed it into the big empty football field near my house where I could expect other people not to hear me talking to myself, imagining something delicious, and deliciously plausible, if not necessarily likely.
I paced, and thought, and recited, arranging the words of a speech. And then I turned back to the song and practiced singing it, until I got through the whole song once or twice, along with the short speech. I came back home, and wrote the speech down.
Serp, I don't know whether you made it back to Athlone or wound up somewhere else. I don't know whether Eoin is with you, or whether he ever will be. But no matter where you are, or who you're near, remember how delicious that idea was. Go back and reread it, if it helps. You have the capacity to dream beautiful dreams. And I know that someday, if you keep trying, you will be able to make some of them a reality.
Maybe the plot I schemed up today doesn't work for you where you are now. Maybe you've seen a flaw in it that I don't see. If this particular one never happens, that's alright. You can think up something else. Something better. Just... remember that it's not a waste of time to dream beautiful dreams. It's not. It gives you ideas about how to get to them. You just have to be willing to look at them in the right way. You need a little hope for a brighter day. A little love to find the way.
And remember the vlogbrothers. Remember ToadyOne. Remember Elon Musk and Eliezer's Harry and Dave Moreland and all the other people who have inspired you. Remember that you don't need to be afraid of them. Follow their lead. Don't Forget To Be Awesome.
Monday, February 19, 2018
Dear Memory: Tempted Closer
My plan to beast through my Cost Accounting quizzes has been met by an unexpected obstacle. When I logged onto the publisher website to study again, I discovered it. Access to quizzes five through ten had been taken down unexpectedly, while apparently the course administrator adjusted which questions from the question bank would be on them.
I had not been confident I would do well charging ahead anyway, and it was taking a lot out of me to try. After all the recent stress I had been under, I was not altogether unhappy to surrender to this sudden enforced change of plans. Instead of working on Cost Accounting quizzes, I worked with my team on the finance project in a more relaxed state, knowing I could give as much time to it as the task might take, and enjoyed laughing with them while working.
Again I feel the strange sense of suddenly being surrounded by more reasonable people. In this case, people I can work with, who are willing to work with me. Even though I do wind up doing a lot of the primary processing, having company who are making useful comments makes a great difference. We sent one of our number home, because he was too sleep-deprived to be of much use and had only insisted on dragging his body to our meeting out of a sense of duty. He blessed us quietly for being so understanding when we insisted he should go sleep instead.
I have also spent long hours and majorities of days playing The Sims 3, and have been quite surprised that I continue to find it so engrossing despite bugs that make it through ErrorTrap, a mod which fixes most known glitches. I am not sure I'm done on my stint of it. But, yesterday (I suppose; I am writing at 1:30 or so in the morning after waking up feeling restless and alert after only a couple of hours of sleep) I took time out to do productive things; a bit of shopping, put away the laundry I'd done the day before, and pushed myself back to the gym.
I re-listened to Irish podcasts about the federal budget, and found myself thinking so much of you that I stopped focusing on them entirely, so I switched to listening to The Seldom Seen Kid again instead. My heart whirled and I felt and fantasized many different things, and snarled a little to myself while I thought no-one close enough to notice at the almost painful intensity of my want for you, and of how it might feel, when I see you again, to fear that that meeting may be the only one I ever get, if I present myself poorly...
As I thought might be the case, I performed better at the gym for taking a bit of a longer break, particularly on the strength elements. I upped my weights on several exercises and powered through them happily enough after willingly jogging (or something) my cardio for 20 minutes with more resistance than before. For the first time yet, every exercise I did, I did for three sets (I started with two sets each, and have started going on to three when I felt able on some particular one). By the end, my shoulders and arms felt gently stiff with muscle soreness.
I also listened to Savant while working out, and I thought of you, and showing off my strength to you. Also to Coda; I remember with a little crafty smile that he has a particular attraction to strongly-built women, and I feel it would be fun to meet him again with some confidence I may look sexier to him.
...The question of how to manage polyamory is one of those that I imagine could be a bit of a problem for us, dear Eoin. I put it off while I was there last time; the temporary nature of our relationship then offered its own answer. I was unlikely to find someone else during that time to get romantic with anyway, and was too much enthralled in infatuation and new relationship energy with you to have wanted any such distraction, so beyond my offering not to see anyone else for that period, and the mention of it as something that would need to be talked over if we were ever to want to have a longer term relationship, it was not really discussed.
It is kind of nice to feel so dizzied by thoughts of you again, although it seems to contradict my theory that the time of it were over. Perhaps my quest in Cost Accounting and the various stresses of becoming acclimatized to a new term had suppressed the phenomenon? Perhaps blogging stirs it up more than I generally acknowledge, and having spoken of other things without getting to you led the way for my mental habits?
Perhaps that thought of six months made it seem so much closer, so much more real, that I began to feel about it again. I almost wonder if I should after all break the silence far ahead of schedule to tell you, so that you can help me plan. So that you can weigh in on the question of whether I should come to Athlone IT again, or rather go to one of the other colleges. I don't know.
Changing such an integral part of the plan is unsavory to me, and the thought of breaking my silence to you when I had promised it far more so. Although... Whether I were to talk to you a couple of weeks before I expect to be there, or a few months... Perhaps the heart of it would be much the same..? Perhaps the factor that makes a difference is whether it is already set up that I will come back to Ireland? In that case... I should not, at any rate, until I have bought my plane ticket, I think. But that may be much sooner than anticipated, if I decide to make it my constraint.
I had not been confident I would do well charging ahead anyway, and it was taking a lot out of me to try. After all the recent stress I had been under, I was not altogether unhappy to surrender to this sudden enforced change of plans. Instead of working on Cost Accounting quizzes, I worked with my team on the finance project in a more relaxed state, knowing I could give as much time to it as the task might take, and enjoyed laughing with them while working.
Again I feel the strange sense of suddenly being surrounded by more reasonable people. In this case, people I can work with, who are willing to work with me. Even though I do wind up doing a lot of the primary processing, having company who are making useful comments makes a great difference. We sent one of our number home, because he was too sleep-deprived to be of much use and had only insisted on dragging his body to our meeting out of a sense of duty. He blessed us quietly for being so understanding when we insisted he should go sleep instead.
I have also spent long hours and majorities of days playing The Sims 3, and have been quite surprised that I continue to find it so engrossing despite bugs that make it through ErrorTrap, a mod which fixes most known glitches. I am not sure I'm done on my stint of it. But, yesterday (I suppose; I am writing at 1:30 or so in the morning after waking up feeling restless and alert after only a couple of hours of sleep) I took time out to do productive things; a bit of shopping, put away the laundry I'd done the day before, and pushed myself back to the gym.
I re-listened to Irish podcasts about the federal budget, and found myself thinking so much of you that I stopped focusing on them entirely, so I switched to listening to The Seldom Seen Kid again instead. My heart whirled and I felt and fantasized many different things, and snarled a little to myself while I thought no-one close enough to notice at the almost painful intensity of my want for you, and of how it might feel, when I see you again, to fear that that meeting may be the only one I ever get, if I present myself poorly...
As I thought might be the case, I performed better at the gym for taking a bit of a longer break, particularly on the strength elements. I upped my weights on several exercises and powered through them happily enough after willingly jogging (or something) my cardio for 20 minutes with more resistance than before. For the first time yet, every exercise I did, I did for three sets (I started with two sets each, and have started going on to three when I felt able on some particular one). By the end, my shoulders and arms felt gently stiff with muscle soreness.
I also listened to Savant while working out, and I thought of you, and showing off my strength to you. Also to Coda; I remember with a little crafty smile that he has a particular attraction to strongly-built women, and I feel it would be fun to meet him again with some confidence I may look sexier to him.
...The question of how to manage polyamory is one of those that I imagine could be a bit of a problem for us, dear Eoin. I put it off while I was there last time; the temporary nature of our relationship then offered its own answer. I was unlikely to find someone else during that time to get romantic with anyway, and was too much enthralled in infatuation and new relationship energy with you to have wanted any such distraction, so beyond my offering not to see anyone else for that period, and the mention of it as something that would need to be talked over if we were ever to want to have a longer term relationship, it was not really discussed.
It is kind of nice to feel so dizzied by thoughts of you again, although it seems to contradict my theory that the time of it were over. Perhaps my quest in Cost Accounting and the various stresses of becoming acclimatized to a new term had suppressed the phenomenon? Perhaps blogging stirs it up more than I generally acknowledge, and having spoken of other things without getting to you led the way for my mental habits?
Perhaps that thought of six months made it seem so much closer, so much more real, that I began to feel about it again. I almost wonder if I should after all break the silence far ahead of schedule to tell you, so that you can help me plan. So that you can weigh in on the question of whether I should come to Athlone IT again, or rather go to one of the other colleges. I don't know.
Changing such an integral part of the plan is unsavory to me, and the thought of breaking my silence to you when I had promised it far more so. Although... Whether I were to talk to you a couple of weeks before I expect to be there, or a few months... Perhaps the heart of it would be much the same..? Perhaps the factor that makes a difference is whether it is already set up that I will come back to Ireland? In that case... I should not, at any rate, until I have bought my plane ticket, I think. But that may be much sooner than anticipated, if I decide to make it my constraint.
Wednesday, February 7, 2018
Dear Memory: Still Working On It
Dear Eoin...
I have been writing less often, and directing my thoughts here toward you less often when I do. I think the period of intense heartbreak and missing you since the last time I heard your voice in October is pretty much done.
However, my peace lies twined with my plans. I have unpacked the things I call my "shrine", symbols and trinkets that I like to keep together and revere as little treasures. The red bull, the antique horn, a musical jewelry box which holds some stones and jewelry... And my skull candle, my oath candle. I have contemplated it with happiness. A few years ago, I burned this candle hollow, so that a pillar's worth of wax ran out and left its eye sockets and nose hollow, just as a skull is meant to be, and stared intently at it for hours as it burned, making a promise to myself, in a desperate and unhappy circumstance, that if I continued to be unhappy where I was, I would move. Put another way, that same promise could be phrased, "follow your dreams".
It gives me peace and happiness to look on it, because I know I have not forgotten the promise. I keep my oath to myself. For my joy, and my health, if I find I am not content with where I am, I will change it.
I think the wax shell is probably too delicate in its hollowness to bring across the sea. I am thinking that before I go, I will seek an opportunity to burn the rest of it in a fire, and re-confirm with the destruction of my oath candle the same promise that made it what it is.
I am still planning to come to you, although you come into my thoughts less often. The intent to go back to Ireland is always close at hand there. I am committed to it so thoroughly that the idea no longer seems at all unusual to me. The processes are perhaps a bit daunting, and of course it will cost me more than studying in Canada, but there is much at Fanshawe to help prepare me. I will probably need to work part-time while studying. It's something I have made a point of avoiding in my studies in Canada, but when it comes to bringing myself to Ireland... If this must be a part of my plan, for it to work out financially, it will be, and that is that.
I was so excited to meet the representatives of Limerick, Sligo, Carlow and Tralee. One of them was named Eoin, too. I must have suppressed a sad smile when I recognised the name and was able to pronounce it at a glance. There is a little workshop next week as well about procedures related to studying at a foreign college.
This morning, I came in to the school library and sat down to read and study my Cost Accounting material. I put on music from TouHou and wrote down many phrases and sentences from the material in my schoolwork related cardcast decks. It was a bit of a distraction, and no doubt slowed my reading. However, the music was so appropriate for background music while focusing that as I was packing up to get some breakfast, it was with some odd surprise that I realized turning off my laptop would require me to stop listening to it (since that is what I had playing the music). It was as though the TouHou tracks had been accepted as just what life sounded like on some level.
From that early morning on to late evening, I have been busily tending to one thing and then another... I was exhausted and barely taking anything in by the time my last class ended (it is the latest in the day of any of my classes). However, there were some fun highlights. The professor makes Google Documents and shares an editing link with the students; we pour in, over a dozen of us, and start building something there. Seeing it come together in several pieces at once like that, some formatting, some writing... It reminds me a bit of ants, in a good way.
If you were to wonder of me, I wish I could tell you that I still love you, and with this strength of mine, I will come to find you. I will be healthy and hearty as I can be.
You never read the Discworld books, I think, but... There's one character in them, a Mr. Carrot who has been in various books corporal, sergeant and eventually I think captain in the nightwatch. He is an immigrant, a human (by blood) who had been raised by dwarves, and his defining characteristic is that he believes so strongly in the good nature of people that they can't bring themselves to disappoint him and act more nobly and honestly than they do around anyone else.
At one point, he and a bunch of the other watchmen are aboard a ship in a storm at sea, chasing after someone who has kidnapped Angua, the woman he loves, also a member of the watch. The others had expected that he would be sick and restless worrying about her, but in the hours before they expected to land, Carrot was soundly sleeping with such determination that even the fierce tossing of the storm could not wake him. Since, as he had said, if he arrived in an exhausted state he'd be useless to actually help the woman he loved.
I feel kind of like that about you. Not that you are in need of rescue of course. Just... I want to be stronger for you and not weaker. I want to be better for every influence you have on me and not worse. You deserve that.
I have been writing less often, and directing my thoughts here toward you less often when I do. I think the period of intense heartbreak and missing you since the last time I heard your voice in October is pretty much done.
However, my peace lies twined with my plans. I have unpacked the things I call my "shrine", symbols and trinkets that I like to keep together and revere as little treasures. The red bull, the antique horn, a musical jewelry box which holds some stones and jewelry... And my skull candle, my oath candle. I have contemplated it with happiness. A few years ago, I burned this candle hollow, so that a pillar's worth of wax ran out and left its eye sockets and nose hollow, just as a skull is meant to be, and stared intently at it for hours as it burned, making a promise to myself, in a desperate and unhappy circumstance, that if I continued to be unhappy where I was, I would move. Put another way, that same promise could be phrased, "follow your dreams".
It gives me peace and happiness to look on it, because I know I have not forgotten the promise. I keep my oath to myself. For my joy, and my health, if I find I am not content with where I am, I will change it.
I think the wax shell is probably too delicate in its hollowness to bring across the sea. I am thinking that before I go, I will seek an opportunity to burn the rest of it in a fire, and re-confirm with the destruction of my oath candle the same promise that made it what it is.
I am still planning to come to you, although you come into my thoughts less often. The intent to go back to Ireland is always close at hand there. I am committed to it so thoroughly that the idea no longer seems at all unusual to me. The processes are perhaps a bit daunting, and of course it will cost me more than studying in Canada, but there is much at Fanshawe to help prepare me. I will probably need to work part-time while studying. It's something I have made a point of avoiding in my studies in Canada, but when it comes to bringing myself to Ireland... If this must be a part of my plan, for it to work out financially, it will be, and that is that.
I was so excited to meet the representatives of Limerick, Sligo, Carlow and Tralee. One of them was named Eoin, too. I must have suppressed a sad smile when I recognised the name and was able to pronounce it at a glance. There is a little workshop next week as well about procedures related to studying at a foreign college.
This morning, I came in to the school library and sat down to read and study my Cost Accounting material. I put on music from TouHou and wrote down many phrases and sentences from the material in my schoolwork related cardcast decks. It was a bit of a distraction, and no doubt slowed my reading. However, the music was so appropriate for background music while focusing that as I was packing up to get some breakfast, it was with some odd surprise that I realized turning off my laptop would require me to stop listening to it (since that is what I had playing the music). It was as though the TouHou tracks had been accepted as just what life sounded like on some level.
From that early morning on to late evening, I have been busily tending to one thing and then another... I was exhausted and barely taking anything in by the time my last class ended (it is the latest in the day of any of my classes). However, there were some fun highlights. The professor makes Google Documents and shares an editing link with the students; we pour in, over a dozen of us, and start building something there. Seeing it come together in several pieces at once like that, some formatting, some writing... It reminds me a bit of ants, in a good way.
If you were to wonder of me, I wish I could tell you that I still love you, and with this strength of mine, I will come to find you. I will be healthy and hearty as I can be.
You never read the Discworld books, I think, but... There's one character in them, a Mr. Carrot who has been in various books corporal, sergeant and eventually I think captain in the nightwatch. He is an immigrant, a human (by blood) who had been raised by dwarves, and his defining characteristic is that he believes so strongly in the good nature of people that they can't bring themselves to disappoint him and act more nobly and honestly than they do around anyone else.
At one point, he and a bunch of the other watchmen are aboard a ship in a storm at sea, chasing after someone who has kidnapped Angua, the woman he loves, also a member of the watch. The others had expected that he would be sick and restless worrying about her, but in the hours before they expected to land, Carrot was soundly sleeping with such determination that even the fierce tossing of the storm could not wake him. Since, as he had said, if he arrived in an exhausted state he'd be useless to actually help the woman he loved.
I feel kind of like that about you. Not that you are in need of rescue of course. Just... I want to be stronger for you and not weaker. I want to be better for every influence you have on me and not worse. You deserve that.
Wednesday, January 10, 2018
Dear Memory: Je Pleut
Weather alert: ... It's raining.
For a few days there, it was really cold and windy, and had been snowing a great deal. Yesterday, I think, I walked to the next major intersection and completely wore myself out, because I was sinking up to my mid-calves in snowbank along the way. It's much warmer now, and we have a great deal of melt and thaw and misting rain. It is more like an Irish winter. But there is still lots of snow left.
I... really wish I could talk to you, Eoin. You were in my dream last night, back in Killaloe. The one I grew up in. I dreamed that you had followed me there. I miss you.
I think it's been a little while since I let myself just miss you. It's kind of good to say it again. It's good to imagine talking to you.
I've been doing pretty well. I finished my last quizzes in Intermediate Accounting today, with a 100% and a 83% on my last two. It's... good enough, all things considered. I was mostly doing my accounting work in tax class today, in between paying attention and trial and erroring a bit through reconciliations between net income for accounting and for tax purposes.
I've been singing to myself, from time to time, when my roommates don't seem to be in the house. They come and go a lot, and often together. I have been singing the song I wrote for you, before the silence. I've also been singing "It's Over Isn't It" from Steven Universe. Because it's a really sweet song and I've been rewatching the show. A couple months ago, I couldn't bear to face Garnet. I guess I'm over that now.
Toward the end of the month, there's going to be a week at the school when representatives of other colleges and universities come to advertise their programs, and then a week of recruiting and advertising for summer jobs and career opportunities. I expect to be attending both of them. Especially because... There are some Irish institutions that will be represented there.
I'm making it steadily through my term. I'm doing fine... as far as academic success is concerned. And honestly, I think I'm doing better than I was before in terms of stability too. I've been talking a lot to an old friend of mine I had fallen into an awkward silence with. If we ever do get back into conversation, remind me to tell you about Pyat sometime. I guess that line is inherently more to me than you... but permit me my illusion for a bit.
Reflecting on some things, and at one point being reminded of how I was bullied back in school... I noticed something. Something important. I think something has changed. When I was talking about it, I realized I wanted not to be so angry anymore. I think... I actually believe now, that I don't need to be resentful in order to be myself. In a way that I didn't before. And I think it has a lot to do with you.
I think back again to that scene in the parking lot, and your forgiveness. There's something tremendously powerful in the sight of others. There's a reality that a second perspective lends to things. All the difference between "Am I crazy" and "or is this really here?" is answered by someone else being able to see it too.
No-one else ever seemed to see the difference between myself and the way I've been hurt before, the way you did. And I've been to some counselling. You know, back when I was in Ireland, and continuing to the present. I know it's something that counselors have been trying to condition me to believe for years. And... It's different. It's stirring. To hear myself say it. I could still be just as insightful and amazing if I didn't go hot and cold whenever I remember how isolated I've been.
It's a strange feeling, noticing that difference. It feels... weighty. Not happy or sad, just important, mostly. And kind of... Well, awe-inspiring. I wonder if I will continue to feel that way reliably.
I miss you. I miss you so badly it hurts, and I wish I could tell you how much I want to see you again. I will make it happen, if I can. I just hope you will want to see me again too. It's such a simple thing to say. But the emotions behind it are immense.
One at a time, some fast and some slow, the days march on and on. On Saturday I went to the hospital Emergency area, anxious because the left side of my face was inexplicably numb and tingly. There were some tests. Nothing alarming was found. I came back home. Yesterday I had an exam. Tomorrow I will have two more. I get through it, missing you, looking forward to seeing you again, looking forward to your answer.
The most sensible and effective strategy in general seems to be to act and plan assuming that my plan to return to Ireland succeeds just as I want. That way, my actions will be aligned with my goal, and the future I choose will be reinforced along the way. I'm going to try to enjoy as much of this winter as I can. It might be the last Canadian winter I see for a while, if I have my way. Throughout the coming year, I'm going to have to get rid of a bunch of this junk. I have altogether too much stuff, and it's in the way of unpacking it all and settling in more neatly. There is comparatively so little that I really need, that I really use. I kind of look forward to getting rid of it, although it will take some doing, both physically and emotionally.
Anyway. I... I love you, Eoin. I miss you. So much. And I guess that's about it for me, for now. See you later.
For a few days there, it was really cold and windy, and had been snowing a great deal. Yesterday, I think, I walked to the next major intersection and completely wore myself out, because I was sinking up to my mid-calves in snowbank along the way. It's much warmer now, and we have a great deal of melt and thaw and misting rain. It is more like an Irish winter. But there is still lots of snow left.
I... really wish I could talk to you, Eoin. You were in my dream last night, back in Killaloe. The one I grew up in. I dreamed that you had followed me there. I miss you.
I think it's been a little while since I let myself just miss you. It's kind of good to say it again. It's good to imagine talking to you.
I've been doing pretty well. I finished my last quizzes in Intermediate Accounting today, with a 100% and a 83% on my last two. It's... good enough, all things considered. I was mostly doing my accounting work in tax class today, in between paying attention and trial and erroring a bit through reconciliations between net income for accounting and for tax purposes.
I've been singing to myself, from time to time, when my roommates don't seem to be in the house. They come and go a lot, and often together. I have been singing the song I wrote for you, before the silence. I've also been singing "It's Over Isn't It" from Steven Universe. Because it's a really sweet song and I've been rewatching the show. A couple months ago, I couldn't bear to face Garnet. I guess I'm over that now.
Toward the end of the month, there's going to be a week at the school when representatives of other colleges and universities come to advertise their programs, and then a week of recruiting and advertising for summer jobs and career opportunities. I expect to be attending both of them. Especially because... There are some Irish institutions that will be represented there.
I'm making it steadily through my term. I'm doing fine... as far as academic success is concerned. And honestly, I think I'm doing better than I was before in terms of stability too. I've been talking a lot to an old friend of mine I had fallen into an awkward silence with. If we ever do get back into conversation, remind me to tell you about Pyat sometime. I guess that line is inherently more to me than you... but permit me my illusion for a bit.
Reflecting on some things, and at one point being reminded of how I was bullied back in school... I noticed something. Something important. I think something has changed. When I was talking about it, I realized I wanted not to be so angry anymore. I think... I actually believe now, that I don't need to be resentful in order to be myself. In a way that I didn't before. And I think it has a lot to do with you.
I think back again to that scene in the parking lot, and your forgiveness. There's something tremendously powerful in the sight of others. There's a reality that a second perspective lends to things. All the difference between "Am I crazy" and "or is this really here?" is answered by someone else being able to see it too.
No-one else ever seemed to see the difference between myself and the way I've been hurt before, the way you did. And I've been to some counselling. You know, back when I was in Ireland, and continuing to the present. I know it's something that counselors have been trying to condition me to believe for years. And... It's different. It's stirring. To hear myself say it. I could still be just as insightful and amazing if I didn't go hot and cold whenever I remember how isolated I've been.
It's a strange feeling, noticing that difference. It feels... weighty. Not happy or sad, just important, mostly. And kind of... Well, awe-inspiring. I wonder if I will continue to feel that way reliably.
I miss you. I miss you so badly it hurts, and I wish I could tell you how much I want to see you again. I will make it happen, if I can. I just hope you will want to see me again too. It's such a simple thing to say. But the emotions behind it are immense.
One at a time, some fast and some slow, the days march on and on. On Saturday I went to the hospital Emergency area, anxious because the left side of my face was inexplicably numb and tingly. There were some tests. Nothing alarming was found. I came back home. Yesterday I had an exam. Tomorrow I will have two more. I get through it, missing you, looking forward to seeing you again, looking forward to your answer.
The most sensible and effective strategy in general seems to be to act and plan assuming that my plan to return to Ireland succeeds just as I want. That way, my actions will be aligned with my goal, and the future I choose will be reinforced along the way. I'm going to try to enjoy as much of this winter as I can. It might be the last Canadian winter I see for a while, if I have my way. Throughout the coming year, I'm going to have to get rid of a bunch of this junk. I have altogether too much stuff, and it's in the way of unpacking it all and settling in more neatly. There is comparatively so little that I really need, that I really use. I kind of look forward to getting rid of it, although it will take some doing, both physically and emotionally.
Anyway. I... I love you, Eoin. I miss you. So much. And I guess that's about it for me, for now. See you later.
Friday, January 5, 2018
Dear Memory: A Turn to Hope
Today, I did some research into Irish accounting organizations and immigration. I reached out to someone at Fanshawe whose card was given to me by a pathways advisor, and recieved pretty much the best possible news I could have hoped for regarding my plan to return to Ireland.
OSAP does offer support for people studying outside of Ontario, outside of even Canada. There are already a couple of Irish institutions on their list of approved colleges and an appeals process for adding more. I feel... a little embarrassed. I had been so intimidated at the thought of this being difficult that it took me quite some time to really work up the courage and get past the procrastination to do some looking... and find that this may indeed be much easier than I thought.
For most of today I have been in an energetic cloud of hope and happiness. Fantasies rush upon me of announcing on Facebook that I would be returning to Ireland. Of being able to make the journey less than a year from now. Of meeting you again...
Last night, I stayed up late chatting with two of my friends, and we had an awesome conversation, discussing everything from the community management snafu surrounding Roko's Basilisk, some theory on the nature of dimensions and different kinds of infinity... And lots of asides and jokes and... Damn, it's good to have conversations like that. It's been so long. I should get those two to hang out with me more often. ♡
So even though I was woken up early by a roommate's phone call... I didn't really mind. I like my new roommates, and am more inclined to make allowances and feel tolerant towards their impact on my life. Besides, I knew she would be getting up early, and I had stayed up late. It's just a pity these friendly girls will all be leaving in two weeks.
Classes today were fun. Conversation Circles was easy, and as always a valuable exercise in exposure to other cultures. And I even finished my daily checklist. Well, almost; the shop I went to to drop off some electronics for recycling had closed down, but that isn't my own fault; I give myself credit for doing the thing. A setback will require me to do it over again, that's all.
And at the end of the day, I am altogether too proud of myself for a horrible pun I managed to put at the end of my short Microeconomics assignment, about the direct distribution razor company, Harry's, needing to continue to manage their brand positioning as new companies try to copy their distribution model, to maintain their 'edge'.
Visiting Facebook briefly to post a song of the day there which happened to be in my head, I scrolled through my history and paused at your name. I followed it to see a few more recent pictures of you, dear memory. However, I feel it's something I probably shouldn't have done. It felt creepily stalker-ish, although there was really very little to see. I think... Until my plan for return is set up and in motion, I should keep myself away.
When I have my plane ticket, my approval for funding, and it is time to break the silence... When I get the long-awaited treat of greeting you and asking whether you can meet me in a couple of weeks, when I will be there... Ah, hasten the day. Four years, I would despair of. Eight or nine months... I think I can bear with much better grace. Ah, if only. If only you could see me now, perhaps. If only you knew I was coming back for you.
But I am not allowed to tell you, and I cannot know that it would be for the better if I could.
Someday, I will come back, and probably look over any tracks you have left recently as of that time. Hints that you are, or are not, still in Athlone. Hints that you are, or are not, in a new relationship. But that day is a long way off yet. My heart has been crying desperately through much of the day, but not so much in sorrow. It is a desperate, dizzying hope and joy-of-hope, and it repeats: I love you! I love you! I love you!
I must retain my composure, and keep my head about me. My heart, though, flaps about in giddy circles like a bird on a leash. Here, and with my friends, I can speak of it honestly. Here, I dare to express my inner melodrama. Those who do not want it have no reason to come.
Goodnight, distant Memory. I still have not made up for the lost sleep. But I am happy, with the affection of real friends. It is great solace to remember, to experience, that you are not the only one who can listen with love, who can make me laugh, and invite me out to laugh at myself. I am happy, and that is better than sleep. I will catch up on it tonight, or the following night.
OSAP does offer support for people studying outside of Ontario, outside of even Canada. There are already a couple of Irish institutions on their list of approved colleges and an appeals process for adding more. I feel... a little embarrassed. I had been so intimidated at the thought of this being difficult that it took me quite some time to really work up the courage and get past the procrastination to do some looking... and find that this may indeed be much easier than I thought.
For most of today I have been in an energetic cloud of hope and happiness. Fantasies rush upon me of announcing on Facebook that I would be returning to Ireland. Of being able to make the journey less than a year from now. Of meeting you again...
Last night, I stayed up late chatting with two of my friends, and we had an awesome conversation, discussing everything from the community management snafu surrounding Roko's Basilisk, some theory on the nature of dimensions and different kinds of infinity... And lots of asides and jokes and... Damn, it's good to have conversations like that. It's been so long. I should get those two to hang out with me more often. ♡
So even though I was woken up early by a roommate's phone call... I didn't really mind. I like my new roommates, and am more inclined to make allowances and feel tolerant towards their impact on my life. Besides, I knew she would be getting up early, and I had stayed up late. It's just a pity these friendly girls will all be leaving in two weeks.
Classes today were fun. Conversation Circles was easy, and as always a valuable exercise in exposure to other cultures. And I even finished my daily checklist. Well, almost; the shop I went to to drop off some electronics for recycling had closed down, but that isn't my own fault; I give myself credit for doing the thing. A setback will require me to do it over again, that's all.
And at the end of the day, I am altogether too proud of myself for a horrible pun I managed to put at the end of my short Microeconomics assignment, about the direct distribution razor company, Harry's, needing to continue to manage their brand positioning as new companies try to copy their distribution model, to maintain their 'edge'.
Visiting Facebook briefly to post a song of the day there which happened to be in my head, I scrolled through my history and paused at your name. I followed it to see a few more recent pictures of you, dear memory. However, I feel it's something I probably shouldn't have done. It felt creepily stalker-ish, although there was really very little to see. I think... Until my plan for return is set up and in motion, I should keep myself away.
When I have my plane ticket, my approval for funding, and it is time to break the silence... When I get the long-awaited treat of greeting you and asking whether you can meet me in a couple of weeks, when I will be there... Ah, hasten the day. Four years, I would despair of. Eight or nine months... I think I can bear with much better grace. Ah, if only. If only you could see me now, perhaps. If only you knew I was coming back for you.
But I am not allowed to tell you, and I cannot know that it would be for the better if I could.
Someday, I will come back, and probably look over any tracks you have left recently as of that time. Hints that you are, or are not, still in Athlone. Hints that you are, or are not, in a new relationship. But that day is a long way off yet. My heart has been crying desperately through much of the day, but not so much in sorrow. It is a desperate, dizzying hope and joy-of-hope, and it repeats: I love you! I love you! I love you!
I must retain my composure, and keep my head about me. My heart, though, flaps about in giddy circles like a bird on a leash. Here, and with my friends, I can speak of it honestly. Here, I dare to express my inner melodrama. Those who do not want it have no reason to come.
Goodnight, distant Memory. I still have not made up for the lost sleep. But I am happy, with the affection of real friends. It is great solace to remember, to experience, that you are not the only one who can listen with love, who can make me laugh, and invite me out to laugh at myself. I am happy, and that is better than sleep. I will catch up on it tonight, or the following night.
Thursday, December 28, 2017
Dear Memory: Little Reminders
Dear Memory;
I have been going through my days trying to be dutiful and get things done that need doing. I set myself some bit of schoolwork, and to continue steadily packing my things into boxes for the move on January first. I have returned to tracking my activities in a variety of categories by scoring myself points for them day by day, and have gotten better about recording each day either in the day itself, or the day after while memory is still fairly reliable.
For the past couple of weeks, I have been repeatedly been reminded of you in a painful little way when I pull up the sheet to record my points. For the past couple of weeks I have been wanting to mention it here, but my writing has taken a different direction and it seemed a bad time. My document is divided by weeks, not by months, and it starts each week on the Wednesday, simply because it was a Wednesday back in July when I first thought up the system and decided to use it.
So, since early November, every time I have returned to the document to record points, in the first visible area of the sheet which Google docs must sit on for a moment while it loads, in the small description box under Oct 30 has been the text, "farewell to Fish", my recording of the most notable thing to have happened on that given day. It has given me little pangs over and over again to see it. In another couple of weeks I will be on a new sheet and past it, but it is something that turned my mind to you in a particularly bittersweet way since the silence fell.
Another thing has been the audiobooks that I have been listening to. Jane Austen, old classic literature that I got from freeclassicaudiobooks.com. The quality of the reading is often not very good, but I have been enjoying the stories anyway. Of course, Pride and Prejudice rang quite close to home with the wondering whether someone far away actually loves one, and still loves one after mistakes and obstacles have fallen between you. Now I am listening to "Emma", and I think it has not really gotten into its strength yet. Still, today I was almost vexed to find all of a sudden one third of the way through a part of it about some young lady being anxious to go back to Ireland to return to her family. It begins to be irritating how many things casually spring up to point there, all because it means so much to me now.
Earlier, this morning, while going through my things to pack and sort them for the move, I found another reminder. Of course, there are many among my things, so that's no surprise. For instance, I still keep a bus ticket that brought me once from Dublin Airport out to Athlone. But this is a special one, a precious one. I found those little slips of paper, bundled together, that I saved from our exercise of suggesting things to do together. I looked through them all, remembering and wondering. Such sweet, humble little things are written there. Some of them, we did do, I think, after writing them. We went to a restaurant, for one. Humble little dreams, affectionate wishes for happy times future. I keep them still. I will probably bring them with me when I come back over the sea. Perhaps there is yet the chance to see each one fulfilled. Perhaps.
I have been going through my days trying to be dutiful and get things done that need doing. I set myself some bit of schoolwork, and to continue steadily packing my things into boxes for the move on January first. I have returned to tracking my activities in a variety of categories by scoring myself points for them day by day, and have gotten better about recording each day either in the day itself, or the day after while memory is still fairly reliable.
For the past couple of weeks, I have been repeatedly been reminded of you in a painful little way when I pull up the sheet to record my points. For the past couple of weeks I have been wanting to mention it here, but my writing has taken a different direction and it seemed a bad time. My document is divided by weeks, not by months, and it starts each week on the Wednesday, simply because it was a Wednesday back in July when I first thought up the system and decided to use it.
So, since early November, every time I have returned to the document to record points, in the first visible area of the sheet which Google docs must sit on for a moment while it loads, in the small description box under Oct 30 has been the text, "farewell to Fish", my recording of the most notable thing to have happened on that given day. It has given me little pangs over and over again to see it. In another couple of weeks I will be on a new sheet and past it, but it is something that turned my mind to you in a particularly bittersweet way since the silence fell.
Another thing has been the audiobooks that I have been listening to. Jane Austen, old classic literature that I got from freeclassicaudiobooks.com. The quality of the reading is often not very good, but I have been enjoying the stories anyway. Of course, Pride and Prejudice rang quite close to home with the wondering whether someone far away actually loves one, and still loves one after mistakes and obstacles have fallen between you. Now I am listening to "Emma", and I think it has not really gotten into its strength yet. Still, today I was almost vexed to find all of a sudden one third of the way through a part of it about some young lady being anxious to go back to Ireland to return to her family. It begins to be irritating how many things casually spring up to point there, all because it means so much to me now.
Earlier, this morning, while going through my things to pack and sort them for the move, I found another reminder. Of course, there are many among my things, so that's no surprise. For instance, I still keep a bus ticket that brought me once from Dublin Airport out to Athlone. But this is a special one, a precious one. I found those little slips of paper, bundled together, that I saved from our exercise of suggesting things to do together. I looked through them all, remembering and wondering. Such sweet, humble little things are written there. Some of them, we did do, I think, after writing them. We went to a restaurant, for one. Humble little dreams, affectionate wishes for happy times future. I keep them still. I will probably bring them with me when I come back over the sea. Perhaps there is yet the chance to see each one fulfilled. Perhaps.
Tuesday, June 16, 2015
Dear Diary... I Quit!
After my vacation... Nothing seemed any better at work. I was just as disillusioned, cynical, sick of it, as before, and more so. There was another incident with one of my supervisors... I think I have largely managed not to speak of those here, though I thought about it. Simply put, two of the supervisors I work under have repeatedly treated me and spoken to me with disrespect I am just not willing to put up with... From the tasks I am assigned to and when, to how they respond if ever I question anything they've done.
Not long before my vacation, for example, I got a face full of really bad attitude just for asking, and trying to do it politely, where my supervisor had been, as I had not managed to catch sight of her on the sales floor for the past twenty minutes. I am not claiming necessarily that she was not there; I focus on my work while I am working, and people can sometimes come and go without me noticing them, but there was a point when I was looking for her actively, to deal with something that required a supervisor, and could not find her. I got no answer, just assertions that she knew what she was doing, for my information. Of course, the problem was that I didn't. Know what she was doing, that is. Or where she could be found.
This example is on the extreme end, but archetypal. I have brought up my issues with management before... The result tended to be that some meeting was had, behavior improved for about two weeks, and then everything slowly returned to the way it had been, disrespect included.
This has not been the only problem I've had with my job, that's made me more and more irritable with work since last September, but it's one of the easiest ones to remember and brood over, and after the newest incident, which I will not detail here, I decided I had had too much already, and was not prepared to take any more.
So I came in on a day I was not working for a meeting with the management. I asked to be placed in the processing room instead of in sales, exclusively and as soon as possible. Several days later when the head manager was available to talk to me, she explained to me politely why she would be unable to transfer me exclusively as I had requested. And I responded by stating politely that I would like to officially resign from my position. I had a resignation letter penned, signed, dated and in her mailbox the same day.
I have worked two shifts since then. After all, it's legal imperative and good form to give two weeks notice before actually leaving. Those two days, I've had a lightness in my step and a glee in my heart. Several customers have commented on my excellent customer service, and one even bought me a coffee. I am very glad to be leaving.
Funnily enough, both of my problem supervisors reacted with shock when I told them I was quitting, and almost immediately asked, "But why?". I kept diplomatically silent or evasive. I'm escaping from my troubles there, no need to make a scene and make enemies. It's not as though it's a secret that I've had troubles with them, but my experiences have told me that they don't accept or listen to direct criticism, so it doesn't seem there's any point in confronting them. It would be a waste of my time and energy.
Instead, I've been fantasizing and dreaming in my head about business ideas I would love to bring to fruition, and how. I don't actually think about college itself that much yet; I'm sure I will as September gets closer. I hope I will keep dreaming and fantasizing and fleshing out my plans, though, up until college and all the way through it. My studies should teach me enough practical skills to get those dreams started. I will likely begin some of the early steps while I am schooling. I look forward to it, and again and again I repeat to myself how much more skilled and more competent I've become. I don't have to put up with disrespect or answer to bosses who won't answer to me. I could find a better place to work, but I think I'd rather make one. I am already reading books that should help me.
The plot is afoot.
Not long before my vacation, for example, I got a face full of really bad attitude just for asking, and trying to do it politely, where my supervisor had been, as I had not managed to catch sight of her on the sales floor for the past twenty minutes. I am not claiming necessarily that she was not there; I focus on my work while I am working, and people can sometimes come and go without me noticing them, but there was a point when I was looking for her actively, to deal with something that required a supervisor, and could not find her. I got no answer, just assertions that she knew what she was doing, for my information. Of course, the problem was that I didn't. Know what she was doing, that is. Or where she could be found.
This example is on the extreme end, but archetypal. I have brought up my issues with management before... The result tended to be that some meeting was had, behavior improved for about two weeks, and then everything slowly returned to the way it had been, disrespect included.
This has not been the only problem I've had with my job, that's made me more and more irritable with work since last September, but it's one of the easiest ones to remember and brood over, and after the newest incident, which I will not detail here, I decided I had had too much already, and was not prepared to take any more.
So I came in on a day I was not working for a meeting with the management. I asked to be placed in the processing room instead of in sales, exclusively and as soon as possible. Several days later when the head manager was available to talk to me, she explained to me politely why she would be unable to transfer me exclusively as I had requested. And I responded by stating politely that I would like to officially resign from my position. I had a resignation letter penned, signed, dated and in her mailbox the same day.
I have worked two shifts since then. After all, it's legal imperative and good form to give two weeks notice before actually leaving. Those two days, I've had a lightness in my step and a glee in my heart. Several customers have commented on my excellent customer service, and one even bought me a coffee. I am very glad to be leaving.
Funnily enough, both of my problem supervisors reacted with shock when I told them I was quitting, and almost immediately asked, "But why?". I kept diplomatically silent or evasive. I'm escaping from my troubles there, no need to make a scene and make enemies. It's not as though it's a secret that I've had troubles with them, but my experiences have told me that they don't accept or listen to direct criticism, so it doesn't seem there's any point in confronting them. It would be a waste of my time and energy.
Instead, I've been fantasizing and dreaming in my head about business ideas I would love to bring to fruition, and how. I don't actually think about college itself that much yet; I'm sure I will as September gets closer. I hope I will keep dreaming and fantasizing and fleshing out my plans, though, up until college and all the way through it. My studies should teach me enough practical skills to get those dreams started. I will likely begin some of the early steps while I am schooling. I look forward to it, and again and again I repeat to myself how much more skilled and more competent I've become. I don't have to put up with disrespect or answer to bosses who won't answer to me. I could find a better place to work, but I think I'd rather make one. I am already reading books that should help me.
The plot is afoot.
Wednesday, May 27, 2015
How I Spent My (Sex) Vacation
Hello dear diary blog.
I am back at home now after two several-day trips out of town. The first was to go visit a girlfriend and her girlfriend in St. Thomas not far away from the city. The second was a trip out to Scarborough to visit another old friend that I had had sex with before, and had for some time considered that it would be nice to go visit and do it again.
Both trips were wonderful.
I watched a movie. I played games, including Three Dragon Ante, Therapy, Gloom, Spelunky, Chess, Scrabble and Squarez. I faced my deep feelings of alienation, and cried aloud and wept. I slept on couches. I slept on an extremely comfortable bed. I cuddled. I kissed. I hugged. I had sex of various kinds. I had orgasms. I gave someone else orgasms. I watched and shared funny YouTube videos. I cooked and shared delicious meals. I dreamed up a game system. I went out walking and almost got lost. I came back home wishing I had more time to spend with the excellent people I was with. Twice.
Then I came back and I had an appointment with my counselor. I played some games at The Cardboard Cafe with my boyfriend and my roommate, drank expensive but good tea, and ate expensive but good snack food. Now we need to focus on getting together our rental application for an apartment we really want to move into, and submitting it with attached rent deposit. There is much to do...
I am back at home now after two several-day trips out of town. The first was to go visit a girlfriend and her girlfriend in St. Thomas not far away from the city. The second was a trip out to Scarborough to visit another old friend that I had had sex with before, and had for some time considered that it would be nice to go visit and do it again.
Both trips were wonderful.
I watched a movie. I played games, including Three Dragon Ante, Therapy, Gloom, Spelunky, Chess, Scrabble and Squarez. I faced my deep feelings of alienation, and cried aloud and wept. I slept on couches. I slept on an extremely comfortable bed. I cuddled. I kissed. I hugged. I had sex of various kinds. I had orgasms. I gave someone else orgasms. I watched and shared funny YouTube videos. I cooked and shared delicious meals. I dreamed up a game system. I went out walking and almost got lost. I came back home wishing I had more time to spend with the excellent people I was with. Twice.
Then I came back and I had an appointment with my counselor. I played some games at The Cardboard Cafe with my boyfriend and my roommate, drank expensive but good tea, and ate expensive but good snack food. Now we need to focus on getting together our rental application for an apartment we really want to move into, and submitting it with attached rent deposit. There is much to do...
Thursday, May 22, 2014
Spring Summer
Greetings, dear readers.
I got over some of the slog of Amanda's second week here before too long. Robby has been very nice to me, and has made my life at home quite pleasant, though I still don't really like being around Nathan. I threw out my potted plants after a household fight, but the issues therein have since been resolved. I don't know whether I will try growing some late carrots or something. I might. Mostly, as always, I stay in bed when I'm not working.
A short time back, I had a very prolific few days for digital artwork, finishing several commissions on ChickenSmoothie in quick succession, and I've been happier at work, even though when I sort my back starts hurting badly, and last Sunday, I cleaned up semi-liquid shit from the walls and carpet in one of our changerooms, which someone had left us and tried to hide behind the chair. I don't know the story behind that, but apparently this is the only known time it's happened.
I have just finished my last challenge in a delightfully fun jaunt with a short indie game that combines match-3 puzzles with pseudo-random dungeon delving called 10000000. Yes, that's Ten Million. The goal of the game is to get ten million points, at which point you earn your freedom. It won't happen easily. Along the way, you explore dungeons to get gold which you can spend on better equipment, experience which you can spend on perks and abilities, and wood and stone which you need to rebuild and upgrade ruined rooms in your home in order to do so. It's well polished and good fun for a few hours, and has some very kickin' music. It's also available for only $5 US, as befits a short, coffee break type game. I recommend it to anyone to whom that sounds at all entertaining.
Household harmony has increased. Though I still have periods of substantial laziness, I feel that I've been getting used to doing dishes more often, and have minded less than before.
We had a guest over for a couple of days this week. We played two games of Dungeon Petz, which is also very fun, and hung out a bunch and ate together. It was good times, and there were cuddles and hugs.
I am starting to run out of my psych pills, and I don't think I was prescribed a refill. I suppose I may have to go talk to my clinic doctor about getting refills for them.
That's my life at the moment. It's not all that dramatic, but I am having some fun. Occasionally I dream of running a shelter or a low-cost inn of sorts, inspired by the cheap goods I work with at Goodwill. You'll hear from me again before too long, probably. Fare thee well, all.
I got over some of the slog of Amanda's second week here before too long. Robby has been very nice to me, and has made my life at home quite pleasant, though I still don't really like being around Nathan. I threw out my potted plants after a household fight, but the issues therein have since been resolved. I don't know whether I will try growing some late carrots or something. I might. Mostly, as always, I stay in bed when I'm not working.
A short time back, I had a very prolific few days for digital artwork, finishing several commissions on ChickenSmoothie in quick succession, and I've been happier at work, even though when I sort my back starts hurting badly, and last Sunday, I cleaned up semi-liquid shit from the walls and carpet in one of our changerooms, which someone had left us and tried to hide behind the chair. I don't know the story behind that, but apparently this is the only known time it's happened.
I have just finished my last challenge in a delightfully fun jaunt with a short indie game that combines match-3 puzzles with pseudo-random dungeon delving called 10000000. Yes, that's Ten Million. The goal of the game is to get ten million points, at which point you earn your freedom. It won't happen easily. Along the way, you explore dungeons to get gold which you can spend on better equipment, experience which you can spend on perks and abilities, and wood and stone which you need to rebuild and upgrade ruined rooms in your home in order to do so. It's well polished and good fun for a few hours, and has some very kickin' music. It's also available for only $5 US, as befits a short, coffee break type game. I recommend it to anyone to whom that sounds at all entertaining.
Household harmony has increased. Though I still have periods of substantial laziness, I feel that I've been getting used to doing dishes more often, and have minded less than before.
We had a guest over for a couple of days this week. We played two games of Dungeon Petz, which is also very fun, and hung out a bunch and ate together. It was good times, and there were cuddles and hugs.
I am starting to run out of my psych pills, and I don't think I was prescribed a refill. I suppose I may have to go talk to my clinic doctor about getting refills for them.
That's my life at the moment. It's not all that dramatic, but I am having some fun. Occasionally I dream of running a shelter or a low-cost inn of sorts, inspired by the cheap goods I work with at Goodwill. You'll hear from me again before too long, probably. Fare thee well, all.
Wednesday, April 16, 2014
A Shot of Proactivity
Hi, dear blahgh.
I did a lot yesterday. I've been doing a lot. I had my troublesome top tooth out, it was a premolar. I've been getting some nasty ache while it heals which sometimes reaches all the way up to just under my eye, probably due to the fact that the cavity in the root opened up an infection right against, or possibly in, some of the lowest part of my sinuses.
I got a referral and went for a psych evaluation. The psychiatrist said that my triggered mental images of being stabbed or otherwise hurt with almost any particularly scary object I see was OCD. It's what he said; not might be, was. I personally am not sure how much confidence to have in his apparent confidence, but I've just started taking the mind medicine he prescribed me. And holy hell is it ever bitter. For now I'm going to presume that means it would be dangerous to take too much of it, so they did their best to make sure no-one would want to. I'm being started on a quarter tablet, then half. I should be taking whole tablets daily within two weeks.
My roommate's Australian girlfriend is visiting and she is awesome. She cleans. She cleaned his room, she cleaned the kitchen. I helped her clean a box full of dishes from the place he and Robbit used to share. Then, because Robby was feeling tired and lazy and I would have been bored walking by myself, she went with me to the drugstore to pick up my prescription for mind meds, and we stopped in to get gardening supplies, which I've been meaning to pick up, and groceries.
Gardening is something I've been really wanting to try for a while, and I'm very excited about it! I planted seven trays of ten spots in those little pre-planting seedling trays made of decomposing cardboard, so you just tear them apart and replant them outside without having to take them out of their potlets. All cucumbers and lettuce, since those were the seed packets I had that suggested pre-planting in the instructions on the back. I'll be trying to follow the instructions as much as possible, because I'm very new to this and I know I don't really know what I'm doing, despite having helped my mom and dad in the garden sometimes while growing up. I'm sure what limited knowledge I do have will be useful, though. I really look forward to having home-grown vegetables during the summer. I hope I can keep a garden somewhat maintained. I imagine having the reason to be outside should be good for me, too.
So anyway, yesterday was awesome in many ways, I got a lot done - I even tidied up my room and went through my shirts to get rid of some by donating them to the Goodwill store I work at. I really do have more than enough clothes, so I got rid of anything that I probably wouldn't wear, either because it's not as comfortable as other options I have, or because it's too high-cut and shows my belly-button if I lift my arms - not that I have anything against that kind of shirt, but I can't wear them at work, and I rarely dress up to go other places, and I have no problem wearing longer shirts when I go out to other places anyway. I didn't toss all my high-cut shirts, but I did pass on a few. A lot of my clothes probably won't be good enough to go out on the sales floor, but I know that the "salvage" they get there (what isn't up to quality standards) goes to do some good too, so I'm sure they'll be able to do more with it than I was.
I was so energized last night due to my good mood that I stayed up late just because I wasn't tired. And then, unfortunately, I was woken up very early by my roommate packing his lunches into tupperwares. It sounded exactly like a kitten chasing the lid to a tupperware container around the kitchen floor, with a lot of scraping and sliding sounds. I'm going to ask him to try to do that in the evening, now that he's working morning shifts and is home earlier than 11:30 at night, so that I don't get woken up that way again.
Roommate's girlfriend is staying with us during weekdays for two weeks. I hope that I can continue to use her energy to spark my own. Maybe I can help my boyfriend out by stealing his bedding and insisting on washing it. He won't do it himself, but I really think that the mess he voluntarily lives in can't be good for him. Maybe I should be more like her, and clean his room like she cleaned our roommate's. I hadn't thought about it this way, but I may be neglecting Robby by allowing him to neglect himself when we both know he's in a rut.
For now, excitement abounds! Thanks for reading, and may you be inspired to make progress in your own lives as I am being inspired to do in mine.
I did a lot yesterday. I've been doing a lot. I had my troublesome top tooth out, it was a premolar. I've been getting some nasty ache while it heals which sometimes reaches all the way up to just under my eye, probably due to the fact that the cavity in the root opened up an infection right against, or possibly in, some of the lowest part of my sinuses.
I got a referral and went for a psych evaluation. The psychiatrist said that my triggered mental images of being stabbed or otherwise hurt with almost any particularly scary object I see was OCD. It's what he said; not might be, was. I personally am not sure how much confidence to have in his apparent confidence, but I've just started taking the mind medicine he prescribed me. And holy hell is it ever bitter. For now I'm going to presume that means it would be dangerous to take too much of it, so they did their best to make sure no-one would want to. I'm being started on a quarter tablet, then half. I should be taking whole tablets daily within two weeks.
My roommate's Australian girlfriend is visiting and she is awesome. She cleans. She cleaned his room, she cleaned the kitchen. I helped her clean a box full of dishes from the place he and Robbit used to share. Then, because Robby was feeling tired and lazy and I would have been bored walking by myself, she went with me to the drugstore to pick up my prescription for mind meds, and we stopped in to get gardening supplies, which I've been meaning to pick up, and groceries.
Gardening is something I've been really wanting to try for a while, and I'm very excited about it! I planted seven trays of ten spots in those little pre-planting seedling trays made of decomposing cardboard, so you just tear them apart and replant them outside without having to take them out of their potlets. All cucumbers and lettuce, since those were the seed packets I had that suggested pre-planting in the instructions on the back. I'll be trying to follow the instructions as much as possible, because I'm very new to this and I know I don't really know what I'm doing, despite having helped my mom and dad in the garden sometimes while growing up. I'm sure what limited knowledge I do have will be useful, though. I really look forward to having home-grown vegetables during the summer. I hope I can keep a garden somewhat maintained. I imagine having the reason to be outside should be good for me, too.
So anyway, yesterday was awesome in many ways, I got a lot done - I even tidied up my room and went through my shirts to get rid of some by donating them to the Goodwill store I work at. I really do have more than enough clothes, so I got rid of anything that I probably wouldn't wear, either because it's not as comfortable as other options I have, or because it's too high-cut and shows my belly-button if I lift my arms - not that I have anything against that kind of shirt, but I can't wear them at work, and I rarely dress up to go other places, and I have no problem wearing longer shirts when I go out to other places anyway. I didn't toss all my high-cut shirts, but I did pass on a few. A lot of my clothes probably won't be good enough to go out on the sales floor, but I know that the "salvage" they get there (what isn't up to quality standards) goes to do some good too, so I'm sure they'll be able to do more with it than I was.
I was so energized last night due to my good mood that I stayed up late just because I wasn't tired. And then, unfortunately, I was woken up very early by my roommate packing his lunches into tupperwares. It sounded exactly like a kitten chasing the lid to a tupperware container around the kitchen floor, with a lot of scraping and sliding sounds. I'm going to ask him to try to do that in the evening, now that he's working morning shifts and is home earlier than 11:30 at night, so that I don't get woken up that way again.
Roommate's girlfriend is staying with us during weekdays for two weeks. I hope that I can continue to use her energy to spark my own. Maybe I can help my boyfriend out by stealing his bedding and insisting on washing it. He won't do it himself, but I really think that the mess he voluntarily lives in can't be good for him. Maybe I should be more like her, and clean his room like she cleaned our roommate's. I hadn't thought about it this way, but I may be neglecting Robby by allowing him to neglect himself when we both know he's in a rut.
For now, excitement abounds! Thanks for reading, and may you be inspired to make progress in your own lives as I am being inspired to do in mine.
Saturday, January 4, 2014
Frustrating Day
I spent the last several days with my love, recovering from a deep abyss of sleep deprivation and fatigue that I'd fallen into over the previous week or two. I started staying up all night over my Christmas holiday, and couldn't seem to break the habit. I've had troubles like this all my life, and unfortunately, the more important it is to get to sleep at a reasonable time, the less it happens, because the importance only creates urgency and anxiety, which does not induce restful slumber, but only adds to insomnia.
I started prioritizing sleep, and thought I'd managed to get it back into pattern. But now I'm back home... and although I've been in a muzzy, confused haze of blah all evening, now that night's come and I should be sleeping, I'm wide awake and my chest feels coiled tight like a spring, and alert as a hunted mouse. Through the haze, I suspected there might be something I'm avoiding facing, because I felt an urgency to keep myself occupied; moreso than usual, though I have rarely found it easy to really relax. Now, after a shower in which I briefly wandered off into relaxed fantasy, but only became tense again at the thought that tonight, it's actually important I get to sleep, because I work in the morning... I think I may understand why my body is registering this sense of panic or grief.
A couple of days ago, my boyfriend called me after work, while he was getting to the bus to get home, and told me that he was being retired along with all the other seasonal staff at EB Games. The higher ups were determined not to keep on any of the seasonal staff. On the upside, he had made a fantastic impression and was now at the top of the list of people that his branch would call on if they needed someone... But that still means that after his last couple of scheduled days, the last one being tomorrow, he's out of work until he finds another position - with EB Games or otherwise. Now, at this point, I think he's proven sufficiently that he can find work, and I don't need to worry to much about his ability to support himself in job searching and in the mean time... But it does mean that according to our plans, I won't be moving in with him for another five months at least, probably half a year, and I have been looking forward to it with aching intensity. It has been extremely annoying having to wait. The place I'm in is certainly not all that bad, but it doesn't have my boyfriend in it, and the place he's in is rather awful. We will be able to save a lot of money living together, too. Everything is inefficient now. Spending time together takes too much arranging. Ensuring that Robby is well fed, heck, even cooking for myself, is complicated by not having my own kitchen (I share mine with my landlord). The next few months may be tighter for finance, with my after-Christmas hours scheduled to be reduced, and Robby's earning opportunities completely unknown as yet.
Aside from all that, in parallel, I think I am deciding to be done with the Pup again... And having once taken him back after such a final decision, I think and hope that I will not be so foolish again.
All things considered, I suppose I do have fair reason to be stressed. That helps. Feeling that my pain is significant even from an outside perspective helps me to forgive myself for getting caught up in it, and forgiveness is the key to freedom...
I do not know what to say now.
Goodnight... Though I do not know when I will sleep, or how many more nights I will be restless.
I started prioritizing sleep, and thought I'd managed to get it back into pattern. But now I'm back home... and although I've been in a muzzy, confused haze of blah all evening, now that night's come and I should be sleeping, I'm wide awake and my chest feels coiled tight like a spring, and alert as a hunted mouse. Through the haze, I suspected there might be something I'm avoiding facing, because I felt an urgency to keep myself occupied; moreso than usual, though I have rarely found it easy to really relax. Now, after a shower in which I briefly wandered off into relaxed fantasy, but only became tense again at the thought that tonight, it's actually important I get to sleep, because I work in the morning... I think I may understand why my body is registering this sense of panic or grief.
A couple of days ago, my boyfriend called me after work, while he was getting to the bus to get home, and told me that he was being retired along with all the other seasonal staff at EB Games. The higher ups were determined not to keep on any of the seasonal staff. On the upside, he had made a fantastic impression and was now at the top of the list of people that his branch would call on if they needed someone... But that still means that after his last couple of scheduled days, the last one being tomorrow, he's out of work until he finds another position - with EB Games or otherwise. Now, at this point, I think he's proven sufficiently that he can find work, and I don't need to worry to much about his ability to support himself in job searching and in the mean time... But it does mean that according to our plans, I won't be moving in with him for another five months at least, probably half a year, and I have been looking forward to it with aching intensity. It has been extremely annoying having to wait. The place I'm in is certainly not all that bad, but it doesn't have my boyfriend in it, and the place he's in is rather awful. We will be able to save a lot of money living together, too. Everything is inefficient now. Spending time together takes too much arranging. Ensuring that Robby is well fed, heck, even cooking for myself, is complicated by not having my own kitchen (I share mine with my landlord). The next few months may be tighter for finance, with my after-Christmas hours scheduled to be reduced, and Robby's earning opportunities completely unknown as yet.
Aside from all that, in parallel, I think I am deciding to be done with the Pup again... And having once taken him back after such a final decision, I think and hope that I will not be so foolish again.
All things considered, I suppose I do have fair reason to be stressed. That helps. Feeling that my pain is significant even from an outside perspective helps me to forgive myself for getting caught up in it, and forgiveness is the key to freedom...
I do not know what to say now.
Goodnight... Though I do not know when I will sleep, or how many more nights I will be restless.
Thursday, December 12, 2013
A Season of Carols
Time is passing, passing along...
Work has become more and more habitual and easy. I go about my duties with unhurried calm most of the time, and feel competent and a little as though I am in a trance. The snow drifting outside the windows on snowy days, and serene or gently moody Christmas carols can be hypnotizing. It seems like we always have far more to do than we can realistically get done, but I am coming to understand that this is the way the store is meant to be run. Perfection is not expected, just a continuing effort to improve the worst problems, tidy the worst messes, and keep things running.
Customers ask me if I am working hard, and sometimes I am so relaxed I wonder if they are perhaps being sarcastic, but I am careful not to fall idle, and always be doing something useful to the store.
About a week ago, I decided to take up a piece of digital artwork I had promised a friend a year or so before, and ended up surprising myself by working for seven hours, and finishing it. I opened up artwork commissions on ChickenSmoothie again, which is basically an art trading site, but most of that art trading is in the form of official site collectable pets. It's not "professional", since it's not actually money, but it is reassuring to know that there are people who will trade me something that has value to them, and to the community we are participating in, in exchange for the quality of artwork I produce.
Doing art seems to make me happier, and the commissions help me focus and finish.
Unfortunately, my computer at home has encountered a somewhat serious problem, and is now not starting up Windows at all, not even in Safe Mode. It seems to be getting stuck on a file called SPTD.sys. I've had a lot of problems with corrupt files and cyclical reduncancy checks recently, and I knew my computer was deteriorating, so I'm not surprised. I've been wanting to replace it for a while now, but I have been spending my money on other things: repaying an old debt to a friend, housewares and winter garments, games, Christmas presents... I'll have to get a cheap replacement as soon as is reasonably convenient. Hopefully within the month. I'm not sure what I'll spend my time doing at home without one. For now, I'm staying with my boyfriend again. Being alone without computer and internet access is lonely and boring. Being with my boyfriend is neither, and thus greatly preferable.
I still wonder where I'm going and how I will progress. I am feeling more and more confident in my present role. I even managed to get some resolution and a greater feeling of respect and appreciation after a mild confrontation with a co-worker with whom I was having some conflict.
I wonder sometimes if I am getting too comfortable, and a bit lax. Perhaps I should ask my co-workers and managers what they think. I wonder sometimes if I am becoming more sheltered and recluse, or complacent about the world and my ideals... I'm not sure who to talk to or what to do about that. It doesn't concern me all that much, though. I have time to bide and wait, and find something.
Oh. Also, I noticed something. Both at work and in my life surrounding it, I notice that I tend to get bored and despondent if things get too easy. The first big snowfall of the season, I walked to work and then to my boyfriend's house along the side of the road because the unshoveled sidewalks were knee-deep in snow... And I was elated by the challenge, the opportunity to get there anyway, do something -interesting-. I notice that I need a certain amount of adversity in my life, or I get bored and start to feel worthless and uninterested. My boyfriend thinks that is probably a sign of adaptation to a life that has been too hard. Perhaps. It is a useful revelation, though. Perhaps I can remember to make use of it, if I start to feel that boredom.
Work has become more and more habitual and easy. I go about my duties with unhurried calm most of the time, and feel competent and a little as though I am in a trance. The snow drifting outside the windows on snowy days, and serene or gently moody Christmas carols can be hypnotizing. It seems like we always have far more to do than we can realistically get done, but I am coming to understand that this is the way the store is meant to be run. Perfection is not expected, just a continuing effort to improve the worst problems, tidy the worst messes, and keep things running.
Customers ask me if I am working hard, and sometimes I am so relaxed I wonder if they are perhaps being sarcastic, but I am careful not to fall idle, and always be doing something useful to the store.
About a week ago, I decided to take up a piece of digital artwork I had promised a friend a year or so before, and ended up surprising myself by working for seven hours, and finishing it. I opened up artwork commissions on ChickenSmoothie again, which is basically an art trading site, but most of that art trading is in the form of official site collectable pets. It's not "professional", since it's not actually money, but it is reassuring to know that there are people who will trade me something that has value to them, and to the community we are participating in, in exchange for the quality of artwork I produce.
Doing art seems to make me happier, and the commissions help me focus and finish.
Unfortunately, my computer at home has encountered a somewhat serious problem, and is now not starting up Windows at all, not even in Safe Mode. It seems to be getting stuck on a file called SPTD.sys. I've had a lot of problems with corrupt files and cyclical reduncancy checks recently, and I knew my computer was deteriorating, so I'm not surprised. I've been wanting to replace it for a while now, but I have been spending my money on other things: repaying an old debt to a friend, housewares and winter garments, games, Christmas presents... I'll have to get a cheap replacement as soon as is reasonably convenient. Hopefully within the month. I'm not sure what I'll spend my time doing at home without one. For now, I'm staying with my boyfriend again. Being alone without computer and internet access is lonely and boring. Being with my boyfriend is neither, and thus greatly preferable.
I still wonder where I'm going and how I will progress. I am feeling more and more confident in my present role. I even managed to get some resolution and a greater feeling of respect and appreciation after a mild confrontation with a co-worker with whom I was having some conflict.
I wonder sometimes if I am getting too comfortable, and a bit lax. Perhaps I should ask my co-workers and managers what they think. I wonder sometimes if I am becoming more sheltered and recluse, or complacent about the world and my ideals... I'm not sure who to talk to or what to do about that. It doesn't concern me all that much, though. I have time to bide and wait, and find something.
Oh. Also, I noticed something. Both at work and in my life surrounding it, I notice that I tend to get bored and despondent if things get too easy. The first big snowfall of the season, I walked to work and then to my boyfriend's house along the side of the road because the unshoveled sidewalks were knee-deep in snow... And I was elated by the challenge, the opportunity to get there anyway, do something -interesting-. I notice that I need a certain amount of adversity in my life, or I get bored and start to feel worthless and uninterested. My boyfriend thinks that is probably a sign of adaptation to a life that has been too hard. Perhaps. It is a useful revelation, though. Perhaps I can remember to make use of it, if I start to feel that boredom.
Thursday, June 13, 2013
Life Is Good
Good day, bloggers.
I really, really mean that.
Sorry I've not been in touch, life is pretty awesomely hectic. Let's see if I can fill you in with some brevity. Robby the rabbit boy is still around and still a source of great comfort and warm, easy, peaceful love that makes a lot of traditional notions much more attractive... Not that they weren't already, but it's more profound.
Perhaps more surprisingly, Pup's around again too. I didn't talk to him for a whole month... Then I broke the silence, and returned to find a puppy boy grateful and overwhelmed with good feelings to hear my voice and see my face again. For the two weeks previous, he'd been getting help changing some of his more difficult behaviors from a shockingly delightful lady who showed up on FetLife out of absolutely nowhere to flirt with me and ask about playing with me. I wasn't really interested, partly because of the recent chaos with Pup, so she found his page and asked me if she could play with him. I was only too glad to encourage her to do so with my highest blessings and deep gratitude. While I'd given up the Pup as a lost cause for me, I really wanted him to get through the grief I knew it would cause him breaking up with me and was incredibly grateful to have someone show up who seemed very much his type and who would probably do great things to soothe the pain, if only by being a very pleasant distraction who understood.
She surprised me. Not only did she enjoy him in ways I have no doubt he enjoyed quite a lot himself, she took on the task of training him according to his own desires to become a person who would be less trouble for me if I ever did come back. She's helped him, for his sake and mine, to be less argumentative, to stop and ask before going off on long tangents or trying to share all the neat things he wants to share with me... And, with an incredible cunning that blew me away when I heard of it, also came up with a way to give him some training in pitch recognition and at the same time, much more importantly, subject him to exposure therapy to force him to face and learn to deal with jealousy. In a way that he will accept, despite all its unpleasantness. She is a fucking genius, and I don't know what kind spirit sent her our way, but may it receive resounding thanks for her presence.
I'm not spending a lot of time with Pup. But we've spoken a few times. It has been congenial and pleasant. My lost cause, somehow... in only a month... has been found again, and retrieved safely and whole from the jaws of panic and hopelessness and fits of not knowing how to deal with his jealousy...
I don't know what to say, but thank you, thank you, thank you, and if I somehow deserve all this, I abso-fucking-lutely love who I am as a person on that count alone.
It doesn't stop there. For the past two weeks, I've been employed. I'm working part time, a minimum of 15-20 hours a week, with Goodwill retail here in London. And it's great. I'm primarily a stocker and unstocker, but I also clean the kitchens and staff bathrooms, since the new manager offered extra hours to someone willing to keep those areas clean, and housekeeping is my background. I had even been doing some independent work cleaning someone's bathrooms from time to time in the preceding few months. Serendipity to be sure.
My job has me on my feet walking a lot, up to 7 or 8 hours in a day, so my feet are often tired and sore at the end of a shift. My arms get sore too when I have to stock or pull from high racks, as apparently there are muscles that my arms has never had much need to use before that I use a lot when I'm holding them above my head. That pain only lasts as long as I'm doing it, though, and I'm sure it will fade with time and exposure. I need new shoes I can put cushioned insoles in. I've been told those will certainly help with my feet.
I want to give deep thanks to Goodwill (the job help branch) for helping me get here, and to Goodwill (retail) for hiring me, and to Robby for helping me get through the higher powered job search with my head high and confidence showing, despite being in grief over Pup, and for many, many other wonderful things that make me very happy, very often. And of course I would like to thank our mysterious friend from FetLife for helping Puppy grow and change and become not a pain in the ass.
And to all my friends and readers who have helped, or who have only witnessed the drama of my life, and elected to care about it... Thank you as well. I love you all.
I really, really mean that.
Sorry I've not been in touch, life is pretty awesomely hectic. Let's see if I can fill you in with some brevity. Robby the rabbit boy is still around and still a source of great comfort and warm, easy, peaceful love that makes a lot of traditional notions much more attractive... Not that they weren't already, but it's more profound.
Perhaps more surprisingly, Pup's around again too. I didn't talk to him for a whole month... Then I broke the silence, and returned to find a puppy boy grateful and overwhelmed with good feelings to hear my voice and see my face again. For the two weeks previous, he'd been getting help changing some of his more difficult behaviors from a shockingly delightful lady who showed up on FetLife out of absolutely nowhere to flirt with me and ask about playing with me. I wasn't really interested, partly because of the recent chaos with Pup, so she found his page and asked me if she could play with him. I was only too glad to encourage her to do so with my highest blessings and deep gratitude. While I'd given up the Pup as a lost cause for me, I really wanted him to get through the grief I knew it would cause him breaking up with me and was incredibly grateful to have someone show up who seemed very much his type and who would probably do great things to soothe the pain, if only by being a very pleasant distraction who understood.
She surprised me. Not only did she enjoy him in ways I have no doubt he enjoyed quite a lot himself, she took on the task of training him according to his own desires to become a person who would be less trouble for me if I ever did come back. She's helped him, for his sake and mine, to be less argumentative, to stop and ask before going off on long tangents or trying to share all the neat things he wants to share with me... And, with an incredible cunning that blew me away when I heard of it, also came up with a way to give him some training in pitch recognition and at the same time, much more importantly, subject him to exposure therapy to force him to face and learn to deal with jealousy. In a way that he will accept, despite all its unpleasantness. She is a fucking genius, and I don't know what kind spirit sent her our way, but may it receive resounding thanks for her presence.
I'm not spending a lot of time with Pup. But we've spoken a few times. It has been congenial and pleasant. My lost cause, somehow... in only a month... has been found again, and retrieved safely and whole from the jaws of panic and hopelessness and fits of not knowing how to deal with his jealousy...
I don't know what to say, but thank you, thank you, thank you, and if I somehow deserve all this, I abso-fucking-lutely love who I am as a person on that count alone.
It doesn't stop there. For the past two weeks, I've been employed. I'm working part time, a minimum of 15-20 hours a week, with Goodwill retail here in London. And it's great. I'm primarily a stocker and unstocker, but I also clean the kitchens and staff bathrooms, since the new manager offered extra hours to someone willing to keep those areas clean, and housekeeping is my background. I had even been doing some independent work cleaning someone's bathrooms from time to time in the preceding few months. Serendipity to be sure.
My job has me on my feet walking a lot, up to 7 or 8 hours in a day, so my feet are often tired and sore at the end of a shift. My arms get sore too when I have to stock or pull from high racks, as apparently there are muscles that my arms has never had much need to use before that I use a lot when I'm holding them above my head. That pain only lasts as long as I'm doing it, though, and I'm sure it will fade with time and exposure. I need new shoes I can put cushioned insoles in. I've been told those will certainly help with my feet.
I want to give deep thanks to Goodwill (the job help branch) for helping me get here, and to Goodwill (retail) for hiring me, and to Robby for helping me get through the higher powered job search with my head high and confidence showing, despite being in grief over Pup, and for many, many other wonderful things that make me very happy, very often. And of course I would like to thank our mysterious friend from FetLife for helping Puppy grow and change and become not a pain in the ass.
And to all my friends and readers who have helped, or who have only witnessed the drama of my life, and elected to care about it... Thank you as well. I love you all.
Friday, April 19, 2013
A Forest of Sticks
I did two hours of job searching on Kijiji this Tuesday... It must have been effective. I had an interview yesterday morning, and was requested to go to two this morning. I had an offer to make some money distributing flyers to mail boxes, and have a training day next Thursday.The flood of responses is unprecedented. However, I don't really know how to ace the interviews yet. I hope I will do well in some of them. I am signed up for Job Finding Workshop Thursday afternoons at Goodwill and I have a one to one appointment next Wednesday with one of the staff there. I met an interesting and dynamic person at the workshop that I chatted to about Pokemon and D&D and got the contact information of so we could talk more. I'm going to have to practice promoting myself and answering interview questions at my mirror.
The weather has gotten warmer and it really feels like spring now. Pleasant breezes and warm sun dominate the weather. I got a sun burn while handing out flyers for 45 minutes on Wednesday. Despite the warmth, though, no leaves are on the deciduous trees yet. The evergreens are, as ever, green, but wherever I would expect foliage, I see a forest of sticks. It feels mildly disconcerting, but perhaps it is not time for them to be budding yet.
In other news, I have started a new hobby I've been meaning to take up for some time, Let's Playing. For the first time ever there are uploads on my YouTube page. I'm playing a game called Heroine Iysayana, which is a trilogy of JRPG spoofs make in RPG Maker available for free. There are a couple of other LPs of it online already, but at this point, it's become such a popular hobby that it's very hard to find games that haven't been done. Regardless, I'm having fun, despite the strange quirks of my system's audio and trying to figure out how to get the game to behave properly and how to record both game and microphone sound without either being too loud or having to deal with multi-channel recording and editing I don't know how to do yet. So far, I realize my recordings are rough, but I am having fun anyway.
I've been very busy, and I have to go out to my interview soon, but I really wanted to update this and let anyone who reads it know what's been new in my life. Perhaps I'll soon have work... really, this time... and be able to tell you about my new job soon. Here's hoping.
Thank you for taking the time to read my words. Please do feel free to comment if you have anything to say. Despite getting a modest stream of views now, apparently, I still don't have a single comment on any of my blog posts.
The weather has gotten warmer and it really feels like spring now. Pleasant breezes and warm sun dominate the weather. I got a sun burn while handing out flyers for 45 minutes on Wednesday. Despite the warmth, though, no leaves are on the deciduous trees yet. The evergreens are, as ever, green, but wherever I would expect foliage, I see a forest of sticks. It feels mildly disconcerting, but perhaps it is not time for them to be budding yet.
In other news, I have started a new hobby I've been meaning to take up for some time, Let's Playing. For the first time ever there are uploads on my YouTube page. I'm playing a game called Heroine Iysayana, which is a trilogy of JRPG spoofs make in RPG Maker available for free. There are a couple of other LPs of it online already, but at this point, it's become such a popular hobby that it's very hard to find games that haven't been done. Regardless, I'm having fun, despite the strange quirks of my system's audio and trying to figure out how to get the game to behave properly and how to record both game and microphone sound without either being too loud or having to deal with multi-channel recording and editing I don't know how to do yet. So far, I realize my recordings are rough, but I am having fun anyway.
I've been very busy, and I have to go out to my interview soon, but I really wanted to update this and let anyone who reads it know what's been new in my life. Perhaps I'll soon have work... really, this time... and be able to tell you about my new job soon. Here's hoping.
Thank you for taking the time to read my words. Please do feel free to comment if you have anything to say. Despite getting a modest stream of views now, apparently, I still don't have a single comment on any of my blog posts.
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
Arrrgh!!
Well. That could have gone better.
I realize that not everyone may have the context for that remark. Let me fill you in. I had a job interview today. 'Nuff said? Well too bad, I'm going to say more anyway.
I had been sending a lot of applications to this company on their own special online job board thingamajig, and happily enough, someone actually called me - it happened to be while I was about to walk into the food bank, a few days ago, so I did a phone interview outside, and it went well. I took a while to think before answering some questions and it was hard to hear the lady on the phone, but we got through it. I just needed her to repeat a few things. And she set me up an appointment to go to an interview today. Great!
I spent the weekend looking forward to it, thinking, relaxing, arguing with my boyfriend as usual and rolling up random D&D characters. It's been a while since I've done that. I went price shopping online, and attempted to do so in person, but that didn't work out too well, for hard hats and steel-toed shoes, as the phone interviewer had informed me I'd need them for work if I got the job. I sent my price quotes from the internet to Ontario Works requesting funding for job search related equipment... and told a bunch of my friends about it with excitement , getting nearly half a dozen people wishing me good luck and success.
And now the day has come. I had a good feeling about this, and was optimistic... even confident! I got my references printed and called up the only one I hadn't contacted by email to notify her and make sure handing her name in was all okay. Yep, no problem there. I gave myself a bit of praise after the phonecall, despite being in a public place where people could hear me: "You did it! Yay! Well done..." Phonecalls always stress me out. Calling people I haven't spoken to in ages, much moreso.
I dressed up really nice in a collared shirt tucked into snugly fitting black pants. I cleaned my shoes, which had gotten a bit grungy, and even tried buffing them with a rag and some vegetable oil in the hopes it would bring out a bit of a shine. I realize this is not normally the way to oil shoes, but it doesn't seem to have turned out badly. I prepared my padded folder with my resume and references, packed an assortment of things I'd need into the purse I never use unless I want to look professional, donned my business jacket and headed out to get there early... So early, in fact, that I had half an hour to kill before showing up, so I hung out in a nearby bank, chatting with Damon on the phone, and used the bathroom at a restaurant, until it was a quarter to my appointment, and I headed in.
And the place was pleasant, and the many staff members I saw made every move to be friendly and helpful. My interviewer showed up with a warm and welcoming smile and brought me with polite smalltalk to the staff training area, a cozy place with lockers and paper notes stuck on cabinets, and a handful of smiling workers on break. We sat down in a small room to do the interview proper, two interviewers with bundles of papers and pens to take notes, and me, across the table from them. I handed them my updated resume and pointed out that I had taken a First Aid and CPR course since submitting the one online that they already had. Then came the questions. For the first several, I gave good, solid answers that I'm sure were pretty close to ideal. How do I present myself to customers, knowing I'm the last contact they may have with us? With a smile. Always with a smile. The interviewer who'd come to get me seemed to beam while writing my answers, or whatever other observations she was making, down.
I feel I should have mentioned something specifically about dealing with the specific complaints when asked what I'd do if a customer approached me rudely with complaints about a product, rather than only saying I'd take a breath, talk to them calmly, and try to smile anyway if I could, get through it... But that wasn't the big mistake.
I was asked how I've dealt with tasks that required both speed and accuracy, and I froze for a moment, unable to think of one. This would have been fine, if I hadn't grasped for the first answer to come to mind: cleaning... And spoken about how in housekeeping, I was great at being thorough, which makes for a comparable attribute to accuracy, I suppose, but could lag behind sometimes... But getting faster was probably just a matter of learning. After that answer, my interviewers said they had no more questions, and closed their interview booklets, though there looked to be quite a few pages left, and the announcement was abrupt. They asked me if I had any questions myself, and I was startled and grasped again... So I asked about how long it would be before I should expect to hear back from someone, and who I'd be hearing back from if I was contacted. Which is a fair question. I'm not disappointed about that. We chatted a little about the extra paperwork that hiring season meant for them, and I was escorted to the exit. It wasn't until I left the building that I realized I'd forgotten to hand them the sheet of references I'd gone out of my way to contact and prepare, and we hadn't touched on the two pieces of I.D. I had been asked to bring to the interview... And hadn't someone said something about "training", not just an interview?
Arrgh... I guess I just got nervous, and flubbed up. I felt embarrassed failure heavy on my shoulders as I left... I automatically turned toward the bus stop... But turned myself around again to buy some milk I knew I needed from a grocery store which happened to be right next to it... And after walking past the store again, and half way down the block... I realized I really was running away in a panic, ruminating that I'd ruined everything and it was too late to go back now.
So I stopped, and I turned around again, and I walked back to the store, and approached the lady at customer service that I'd approached originally, no doubt blushing, and admitted I'd forgotten to give the interviewers my reference sheet. She called them for me, took it, and promised to give it to them, and I skulked off again... but at least it was possible now that my work updating the sheet and calling my old volunteer manager wasn't entirely wasted. I left the building for a second time feeling like I had failed, but at least won the booby prize for facing my fears and facing up to a silly mistake... This is probably cognitive behavioral therapy.
So, let me take a moment to review my performance here, and note on the failures, and on the successes of today's interview...
Good:
Preparation: I kept an eye on how much time I expected to have throughout the day, and got everything together quite well. I made sure I had everything I needed before I headed out the door, including blank thank-you cards and a pencil and eraser, in the handbag I prepared rather than taking my less professional looking backpack. I even had a slip of paper with where I was going by address and sketched map, who I was to ask for at what desk, and a phone number to call in case somehow I was late and needed to get in touch. I had taken care to eat and drink, and use the bathroom, before leaving, so that I wouldn't be interviewed on an empty stomach or while uncomfortable, and I got a healthy dose of pep talk from my friends before heading out. If I could go to all my interviews so well prepared, that would be an excellent thing.
Presentation: When I realized how casually all the employees were dressed, I felt overdressed in my blazer. Afterall, I had been instructed that a casual business shirt and pants were probably what I should try for. So, I stuffed my blazer into my handbag, and felt professional and well-dressed, but not quite so needlessly fancy. I took my hair down when I walked into the building, having brushed it thoroughly at home, and I smiled and spoke politely to everyone I met, thanking my interviewer, for instance, when she held the door for me. I remembered to make frequent eye contact during the interview, and while my smile probably flagged at some point, or else seemed nervous, I am sure I was smiling.
Thank-You Cards: Not just bringing them with me, but I stopped and sat at a table to write a short and casual but heartfelt thank you with good wishes for the coming year and hopes to see you again at work, to each of the two interviewers, being sure not to make them too alike so it didn't seem I just copied them from one another. I was already aware I'd messed up, and tried the thank-you card thing anyway. I deserve credit for that. It was definitely a good thing.
Bad:
References WITH Resume: I forgot to hand them my references because I waited to be prompted for them and then forgot. I should have handed them in with or immediately after my resume, without waiting. Then, we could have spoken about that then. I need to remember that it's okay to start the references conversation rather than waiting for someone else to.
An Answer... Any Answer...: Faced with the thick silence, I panicked and didn't take the time to think thoroughly before I spoke. I remember going over this in a training thing once a long time ago. Yes, the silence is daunting, but don't feel the need to fill it... It's okay to take a few whole minutes to calmly think about the question, particularly when it's about what I have dealt with in the past. That's what I needed to do here to keep my composure, and come up with an example that doesn't make me look like I'd need training to achieve basic competence. Tasks that require accuracy and speed... Um... like cleaning? No, dumbass, like making change. The thing that applies to the cashier position you're applying for. Which I am fantastic at doing quickly without making any mistakes, by the way. That's why my cash till totals back at Saint Vincent de Paul's were often exactly, to the penny, what they were supposed to be at the end of the day.
Too Cool: I think my smalltalk may have been a bit forced. I wish I'd worked more with the talk the interviewers gave me, and maybe asked some casual questions of them, relaxed a little more, and let myself feel personal with them a bit, to be more at my ease. I wish I'd voiced my thoughts that the staff training room was really neat and that the whole place felt incredibly friendly. I was trying too hard and being too careful, I really was.
And in the end... Well. I screwed up. But it's not the end of the world, right? While making some macaroni and cheese after coming home with painfully frostnipped fingers, and thinking about this, I found The Roses of Success wandering around unexpectedly inside my head. I... dealt with that rather well, in the end, didn't I? I caught myself running away, and marched back, red-faced but ready to make what reparations I could. While heading home, I focussed on allowing myself to feel embarrassed and think on what exactly I'd done wrong, without panicking and ruminating on how I'd never be able to do it right. I was all set up for success, and ended up with failure... And this means that I have got a good handle on preparation, and need to practice and improve my execution. I impressed and got an interview with my resume... A couple now, actually. That bit seems to be working. Now I get to make this set of mistakes. And learn from them.
I did always like that song...
I realize that not everyone may have the context for that remark. Let me fill you in. I had a job interview today. 'Nuff said? Well too bad, I'm going to say more anyway.
I had been sending a lot of applications to this company on their own special online job board thingamajig, and happily enough, someone actually called me - it happened to be while I was about to walk into the food bank, a few days ago, so I did a phone interview outside, and it went well. I took a while to think before answering some questions and it was hard to hear the lady on the phone, but we got through it. I just needed her to repeat a few things. And she set me up an appointment to go to an interview today. Great!
I spent the weekend looking forward to it, thinking, relaxing, arguing with my boyfriend as usual and rolling up random D&D characters. It's been a while since I've done that. I went price shopping online, and attempted to do so in person, but that didn't work out too well, for hard hats and steel-toed shoes, as the phone interviewer had informed me I'd need them for work if I got the job. I sent my price quotes from the internet to Ontario Works requesting funding for job search related equipment... and told a bunch of my friends about it with excitement , getting nearly half a dozen people wishing me good luck and success.
And now the day has come. I had a good feeling about this, and was optimistic... even confident! I got my references printed and called up the only one I hadn't contacted by email to notify her and make sure handing her name in was all okay. Yep, no problem there. I gave myself a bit of praise after the phonecall, despite being in a public place where people could hear me: "You did it! Yay! Well done..." Phonecalls always stress me out. Calling people I haven't spoken to in ages, much moreso.
I dressed up really nice in a collared shirt tucked into snugly fitting black pants. I cleaned my shoes, which had gotten a bit grungy, and even tried buffing them with a rag and some vegetable oil in the hopes it would bring out a bit of a shine. I realize this is not normally the way to oil shoes, but it doesn't seem to have turned out badly. I prepared my padded folder with my resume and references, packed an assortment of things I'd need into the purse I never use unless I want to look professional, donned my business jacket and headed out to get there early... So early, in fact, that I had half an hour to kill before showing up, so I hung out in a nearby bank, chatting with Damon on the phone, and used the bathroom at a restaurant, until it was a quarter to my appointment, and I headed in.
And the place was pleasant, and the many staff members I saw made every move to be friendly and helpful. My interviewer showed up with a warm and welcoming smile and brought me with polite smalltalk to the staff training area, a cozy place with lockers and paper notes stuck on cabinets, and a handful of smiling workers on break. We sat down in a small room to do the interview proper, two interviewers with bundles of papers and pens to take notes, and me, across the table from them. I handed them my updated resume and pointed out that I had taken a First Aid and CPR course since submitting the one online that they already had. Then came the questions. For the first several, I gave good, solid answers that I'm sure were pretty close to ideal. How do I present myself to customers, knowing I'm the last contact they may have with us? With a smile. Always with a smile. The interviewer who'd come to get me seemed to beam while writing my answers, or whatever other observations she was making, down.
I feel I should have mentioned something specifically about dealing with the specific complaints when asked what I'd do if a customer approached me rudely with complaints about a product, rather than only saying I'd take a breath, talk to them calmly, and try to smile anyway if I could, get through it... But that wasn't the big mistake.
I was asked how I've dealt with tasks that required both speed and accuracy, and I froze for a moment, unable to think of one. This would have been fine, if I hadn't grasped for the first answer to come to mind: cleaning... And spoken about how in housekeeping, I was great at being thorough, which makes for a comparable attribute to accuracy, I suppose, but could lag behind sometimes... But getting faster was probably just a matter of learning. After that answer, my interviewers said they had no more questions, and closed their interview booklets, though there looked to be quite a few pages left, and the announcement was abrupt. They asked me if I had any questions myself, and I was startled and grasped again... So I asked about how long it would be before I should expect to hear back from someone, and who I'd be hearing back from if I was contacted. Which is a fair question. I'm not disappointed about that. We chatted a little about the extra paperwork that hiring season meant for them, and I was escorted to the exit. It wasn't until I left the building that I realized I'd forgotten to hand them the sheet of references I'd gone out of my way to contact and prepare, and we hadn't touched on the two pieces of I.D. I had been asked to bring to the interview... And hadn't someone said something about "training", not just an interview?
Arrgh... I guess I just got nervous, and flubbed up. I felt embarrassed failure heavy on my shoulders as I left... I automatically turned toward the bus stop... But turned myself around again to buy some milk I knew I needed from a grocery store which happened to be right next to it... And after walking past the store again, and half way down the block... I realized I really was running away in a panic, ruminating that I'd ruined everything and it was too late to go back now.
So I stopped, and I turned around again, and I walked back to the store, and approached the lady at customer service that I'd approached originally, no doubt blushing, and admitted I'd forgotten to give the interviewers my reference sheet. She called them for me, took it, and promised to give it to them, and I skulked off again... but at least it was possible now that my work updating the sheet and calling my old volunteer manager wasn't entirely wasted. I left the building for a second time feeling like I had failed, but at least won the booby prize for facing my fears and facing up to a silly mistake... This is probably cognitive behavioral therapy.
So, let me take a moment to review my performance here, and note on the failures, and on the successes of today's interview...
Good:
Preparation: I kept an eye on how much time I expected to have throughout the day, and got everything together quite well. I made sure I had everything I needed before I headed out the door, including blank thank-you cards and a pencil and eraser, in the handbag I prepared rather than taking my less professional looking backpack. I even had a slip of paper with where I was going by address and sketched map, who I was to ask for at what desk, and a phone number to call in case somehow I was late and needed to get in touch. I had taken care to eat and drink, and use the bathroom, before leaving, so that I wouldn't be interviewed on an empty stomach or while uncomfortable, and I got a healthy dose of pep talk from my friends before heading out. If I could go to all my interviews so well prepared, that would be an excellent thing.
Presentation: When I realized how casually all the employees were dressed, I felt overdressed in my blazer. Afterall, I had been instructed that a casual business shirt and pants were probably what I should try for. So, I stuffed my blazer into my handbag, and felt professional and well-dressed, but not quite so needlessly fancy. I took my hair down when I walked into the building, having brushed it thoroughly at home, and I smiled and spoke politely to everyone I met, thanking my interviewer, for instance, when she held the door for me. I remembered to make frequent eye contact during the interview, and while my smile probably flagged at some point, or else seemed nervous, I am sure I was smiling.
Thank-You Cards: Not just bringing them with me, but I stopped and sat at a table to write a short and casual but heartfelt thank you with good wishes for the coming year and hopes to see you again at work, to each of the two interviewers, being sure not to make them too alike so it didn't seem I just copied them from one another. I was already aware I'd messed up, and tried the thank-you card thing anyway. I deserve credit for that. It was definitely a good thing.
Bad:
References WITH Resume: I forgot to hand them my references because I waited to be prompted for them and then forgot. I should have handed them in with or immediately after my resume, without waiting. Then, we could have spoken about that then. I need to remember that it's okay to start the references conversation rather than waiting for someone else to.
An Answer... Any Answer...: Faced with the thick silence, I panicked and didn't take the time to think thoroughly before I spoke. I remember going over this in a training thing once a long time ago. Yes, the silence is daunting, but don't feel the need to fill it... It's okay to take a few whole minutes to calmly think about the question, particularly when it's about what I have dealt with in the past. That's what I needed to do here to keep my composure, and come up with an example that doesn't make me look like I'd need training to achieve basic competence. Tasks that require accuracy and speed... Um... like cleaning? No, dumbass, like making change. The thing that applies to the cashier position you're applying for. Which I am fantastic at doing quickly without making any mistakes, by the way. That's why my cash till totals back at Saint Vincent de Paul's were often exactly, to the penny, what they were supposed to be at the end of the day.
Too Cool: I think my smalltalk may have been a bit forced. I wish I'd worked more with the talk the interviewers gave me, and maybe asked some casual questions of them, relaxed a little more, and let myself feel personal with them a bit, to be more at my ease. I wish I'd voiced my thoughts that the staff training room was really neat and that the whole place felt incredibly friendly. I was trying too hard and being too careful, I really was.
And in the end... Well. I screwed up. But it's not the end of the world, right? While making some macaroni and cheese after coming home with painfully frostnipped fingers, and thinking about this, I found The Roses of Success wandering around unexpectedly inside my head. I... dealt with that rather well, in the end, didn't I? I caught myself running away, and marched back, red-faced but ready to make what reparations I could. While heading home, I focussed on allowing myself to feel embarrassed and think on what exactly I'd done wrong, without panicking and ruminating on how I'd never be able to do it right. I was all set up for success, and ended up with failure... And this means that I have got a good handle on preparation, and need to practice and improve my execution. I impressed and got an interview with my resume... A couple now, actually. That bit seems to be working. Now I get to make this set of mistakes. And learn from them.
I did always like that song...
Froom the ashes oof disaster groow the roses of success~!
Thursday, January 31, 2013
The Sweet Delays
My training with the new company has been delayed a week, unfortunately. I suppose this gives me more time to practice my script, but I am disappointed and restless. I was ready, and am. I want to start NOW!
I went to see my ex and his girlfriend in hospital after she damaged her leg slipping on the ice. It was nice to see her again. We've only really met once before. In the hospital waiting room, the two of us together softly sung a single chorus of Mordred's Lullaby. We sing beautifully together, and I hope that we will do it more in the future. It was a magnificent moment. She turned to me with bright eyes and a grin and said, "So, you're a Heather Dale fan, are you?" Someone she works with mistook us for sisters.
It should say a great deal, I hope, to forgiveness and peace, that I and the present girlfriend of my ex, who is part of the reason he is my ex, do such things.
I also went out intending to buy notebooks, which I did, and highlighters, which I could not find in the dollar store, and a city transit map, which I did not buy because the line at the transit office was so long. And because I was already starting to have a panic attack.
Now facing the real prospect of a job I can, and will, excell at, even though I have not started yet... I think forward, to costume design, and street theatre, and activism. Once I can afford it, I will participate. I have been thinking brave and beautiful thoughts along those lines of late.
And... I found myself back at torture and thick in the panic of fear, of dread, to the point that I started to feel physically ill, and clung to the most peaceful and comforting and nonaggressive songs I could find on the iPod to bear it out. I stopped at Goodwill on my way home, still in that panic, thinking to talk to the awesome, sweet geeky young lady receptionist who has often cheered me up, though never out of something like this before... and ask if there was a quiet place I could cry and curl up and someone I could talk to. Several times I almost bailed, choked out an "um" to beg her not to call any particular attention to my need or make exception, or to take anyone away from potentially important work to see me.
I ended up talking to her in an empty office for I'm not sure how long... perhaps half an hour, perhaps more, spilling my terrible difficulty: "you know... don't think of a pink elephant? ... Don't think, try really really hard not to think of... pushpins. Or better, paper clips. And the remarkable depths of human ingenuity. ...And police brutality. And the fact that apparently masked protest is illegal in this country."
Knowing I will soon be able to afford to build costumes, schedule time on activities without my continued involvement in them hinging on whether I find a job that needs that time slot at some point... The risks of what I know I will do, what I know I will nerve myself to do, what I dream of doing, what I will condemn myself for a coward if I do not do... It all comes much more real, and I'm sure it will come much more real yet.
I will cry beforehand so that I can keep my eyes and my mind clear and alert and ready when vital moments come.
I will get my flinching done ahead of the act.
Or after it, I can curl up and weep.
Anytime but during.
Of course, I will strive to do so in the safest and most harmless of ways that can still have dramatic effect, and with all due caution. I only fear for that even the most peaceful of dissent can and certainly will be criminalized in worst case scenarios. For which I absolutely must be prepared.
Prepare for the worst.
Strive for the best.
Expect the most likely, but prepare to be surprised.
The time talking to my friend the receptionist greatly helped me. The fact that I was able to approach her and ask for the moment of help, and follow through, in a public setting, is a definite mark of progress. Overall... today has been a very good, empowering day.
Be proud of me.
I don't think I feel happy.
I feel... like a weak and struggling creature. Growing slightly less weak.
I feel wholesome. I do not feel victorious, but I do feel brave, albeit terribly frightened. I feel resolved, and open, and I feel I have allies.
I feel comforted.
None of these things are happiness. But they are good things.
I went to see my ex and his girlfriend in hospital after she damaged her leg slipping on the ice. It was nice to see her again. We've only really met once before. In the hospital waiting room, the two of us together softly sung a single chorus of Mordred's Lullaby. We sing beautifully together, and I hope that we will do it more in the future. It was a magnificent moment. She turned to me with bright eyes and a grin and said, "So, you're a Heather Dale fan, are you?" Someone she works with mistook us for sisters.
It should say a great deal, I hope, to forgiveness and peace, that I and the present girlfriend of my ex, who is part of the reason he is my ex, do such things.
I also went out intending to buy notebooks, which I did, and highlighters, which I could not find in the dollar store, and a city transit map, which I did not buy because the line at the transit office was so long. And because I was already starting to have a panic attack.
Now facing the real prospect of a job I can, and will, excell at, even though I have not started yet... I think forward, to costume design, and street theatre, and activism. Once I can afford it, I will participate. I have been thinking brave and beautiful thoughts along those lines of late.
And... I found myself back at torture and thick in the panic of fear, of dread, to the point that I started to feel physically ill, and clung to the most peaceful and comforting and nonaggressive songs I could find on the iPod to bear it out. I stopped at Goodwill on my way home, still in that panic, thinking to talk to the awesome, sweet geeky young lady receptionist who has often cheered me up, though never out of something like this before... and ask if there was a quiet place I could cry and curl up and someone I could talk to. Several times I almost bailed, choked out an "um" to beg her not to call any particular attention to my need or make exception, or to take anyone away from potentially important work to see me.
I ended up talking to her in an empty office for I'm not sure how long... perhaps half an hour, perhaps more, spilling my terrible difficulty: "you know... don't think of a pink elephant? ... Don't think, try really really hard not to think of... pushpins. Or better, paper clips. And the remarkable depths of human ingenuity. ...And police brutality. And the fact that apparently masked protest is illegal in this country."
Knowing I will soon be able to afford to build costumes, schedule time on activities without my continued involvement in them hinging on whether I find a job that needs that time slot at some point... The risks of what I know I will do, what I know I will nerve myself to do, what I dream of doing, what I will condemn myself for a coward if I do not do... It all comes much more real, and I'm sure it will come much more real yet.
I will cry beforehand so that I can keep my eyes and my mind clear and alert and ready when vital moments come.
I will get my flinching done ahead of the act.
Or after it, I can curl up and weep.
Anytime but during.
Of course, I will strive to do so in the safest and most harmless of ways that can still have dramatic effect, and with all due caution. I only fear for that even the most peaceful of dissent can and certainly will be criminalized in worst case scenarios. For which I absolutely must be prepared.
Prepare for the worst.
Strive for the best.
Expect the most likely, but prepare to be surprised.
The time talking to my friend the receptionist greatly helped me. The fact that I was able to approach her and ask for the moment of help, and follow through, in a public setting, is a definite mark of progress. Overall... today has been a very good, empowering day.
Be proud of me.
I don't think I feel happy.
I feel... like a weak and struggling creature. Growing slightly less weak.
I feel wholesome. I do not feel victorious, but I do feel brave, albeit terribly frightened. I feel resolved, and open, and I feel I have allies.
I feel comforted.
None of these things are happiness. But they are good things.
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
99% Furry Deviant Approved
I went out grocery shopping today. I brought my Damon with me, and we picked up a bunch of nice things, more than just my standard fare. I got myself ice cream and treats, and got Damon some doughnut sticks, in celebration of my having a new job. I spent most of the rest of my money for this month... It is December, and I will admit, I had been splurging a bit on presents and shipping sending things to people I love, as well as getting things for myself, like a new pair of ear buds since my old ones died. I haven't paid my bills for the month yet, but it's a phenomenally liberating feeling having a pay cheque on the way.
And then, waiting at the bus stop, loaded down with soda, chips and delicious holiday eggnog... I noticed I had another voice mail from work. I gave my supervisor, the friendly and bubbly one, a call. She had left me a message last night, too, asking me to come in for a second training shift on Friday. I had tried to call back, but it didn't seem to be working. It worked this time, and I told her I had gotten her message, sorry for not getting back earlier, told her the reason, and yes of course I can come in on Friday.
She told me she'd spoken with the boss and they had decided they were going to stick with their current team for the time being. I was invited to come in to collect my pay for the two hour orientation I went to. I hurried to politely thank her for telling me, and fumble for my bus pass, as our bus rolled up to the stop.
As you might imagine, I was shocked, stunned, hurt... and maybe even a little panicky, especially since I had slipped my bus pass in a different pocket from the one I usually put it in, and took a minute to find it.
My first thoughts, once I started having thoughts beyond panic and where I had put my bus pass, was that my supervisor or my boss found it unprofessional that I hadn't gotten back after their message early enough, or that they were expecting me to come in today for second training after all (it had been suggested that I would be asked to do so earlier) despite the message asking me to do it on Friday.
My second thoughts were that this was probably because I had mentioned that I haven't worked for a while and would have to adapt my sleep schedule to working again, or that I'd just been too casual and personal in my jokes with my supervisor, talking about memories of listening to cassette tapes as a child, which one of their case models reminded me of (they have one shaped like an old-fashioned audio casette), and such things. Maybe I had somehow offended her or raised a red flag, and she was just too good at masking that kind of thing for me to notice any change in her smile or her laugh. Maybe she had taken my questions and comments during training about harder cases being more likely to crack as antagonism towards the products, or a sign of likely inability to sell them. Maybe I would never be able to get work as long as I naturally fell into patterns of being casual and friendly with anyone I grew to trust at all...
And then, after a while, it finally hit me. I remember at some point while dealing with this blog, finding something about backlinks. Since I am the author of this blog, Blogger will tell me if there is another website somewhere on the internet that links to this one, and will link me to it so I can go and check out who is giving me publicity. You remember that link on my last post, to the Speaking Phones gallery website? If the owner of that website has access to backlinks too... and I strongly suspect this is a thing that is not limited to blogs... then he just got access to that blog post, everything I said about my uncertainty about selling rhinestone covered bling, and the implication that I had not meant to keep the job long (but was now considering doing so, given how the place exceeded all my expectations). In fact, he got access to all my blog posts, and my Fetlife account, and anything else linked to my online persona and the name SerpentStare.
And it turns out I hadn't gotten the job yet. I might as well have stood up on my chair at an interview and shouted, "I'm gay and furry and kinky and proud of it!". Now that... that would explain this, much better than having said something too casual or failed to answer a non-urgent message with urgent timing.
I guess I can't blame them, especially given how harsh I've been in my socialist and anti-capitalist and anti-work epithets on the site here... I remember hearing somewhere that there's no such thing as bad publicity, and I had hoped that my employers would feel that way... Maybe they feel that if I'm willing to use my personal life to plug and promote my work life, I might use my work life to spread pro-fetish ideology, or something? No, I know better than that. I guess for whatever reason, they didn't want their website even remotely associated with me. I will try to remember not to link to any other employers I end up being considered by, lest they find out I am a deviant of great calibre and pride. You might notice, I have gone back to the two previous posts on this blog that featured my real name and removed it, so that it does not come up on a Google search. However, since I seem to have already lost this one, I will leave the existing links up. Speaking Phones was, after all, the reason I labelled that last one "Cool Stuff on the Internet". The website seems a bit broken, and doesn't show all of their stock... at least not on Chrome... but I really was looking forward to working there. There was a lot of cool gear, and I encourage any readers who are looking for cellphone accessories in the London area or near a different one of their branches to check them out.
For now... If I get an email or phone call from someone at Speaking Phones asking me to remove all direct references and/or links to their website, I will do so. I don't really expect them to do that, though, since it would kind of suggest I'd been discriminated against if it turned out the identifying information on my blog was what kept them from hiring me, and it would suggest that they had, in fact, read my blog, if they asked me to remove content from it. Ah, discrimination. Everyone does it, but no-one can admit it, because then there might be legal problems. I haven't had to deal with it a whole lot - at least, not comparatively speaking... and, well, I guess I kind of forgot it existed and I should stay guarded against it, there, for a moment.
And now I'm broke. I assumed I had a job, I celebrated, I stopped to tell you all (and Ontario Works for that matter) about it... and now... I don't. I will need some help to get through this month, I think... though having had a moment to think about it, I'm pretty sure I've got all the help I need. There are people I can ask for assistance in moments like this, thankfully. Damon among them, though he can't help me with money, only moral support.
I'll make it through this. It's a staggering and disappointing blow, but I'll make it. I'm really glad Damon was there with me when I got that memo, he was a huge help. And to Speaking Phones... like it or not, you have my approval, in pretty much everything except, naturally, the decision not to hire me. Maybe you'll change your mind. Maybe you won't. Anyway, best of luck.
And then, waiting at the bus stop, loaded down with soda, chips and delicious holiday eggnog... I noticed I had another voice mail from work. I gave my supervisor, the friendly and bubbly one, a call. She had left me a message last night, too, asking me to come in for a second training shift on Friday. I had tried to call back, but it didn't seem to be working. It worked this time, and I told her I had gotten her message, sorry for not getting back earlier, told her the reason, and yes of course I can come in on Friday.
She told me she'd spoken with the boss and they had decided they were going to stick with their current team for the time being. I was invited to come in to collect my pay for the two hour orientation I went to. I hurried to politely thank her for telling me, and fumble for my bus pass, as our bus rolled up to the stop.
As you might imagine, I was shocked, stunned, hurt... and maybe even a little panicky, especially since I had slipped my bus pass in a different pocket from the one I usually put it in, and took a minute to find it.
My first thoughts, once I started having thoughts beyond panic and where I had put my bus pass, was that my supervisor or my boss found it unprofessional that I hadn't gotten back after their message early enough, or that they were expecting me to come in today for second training after all (it had been suggested that I would be asked to do so earlier) despite the message asking me to do it on Friday.
My second thoughts were that this was probably because I had mentioned that I haven't worked for a while and would have to adapt my sleep schedule to working again, or that I'd just been too casual and personal in my jokes with my supervisor, talking about memories of listening to cassette tapes as a child, which one of their case models reminded me of (they have one shaped like an old-fashioned audio casette), and such things. Maybe I had somehow offended her or raised a red flag, and she was just too good at masking that kind of thing for me to notice any change in her smile or her laugh. Maybe she had taken my questions and comments during training about harder cases being more likely to crack as antagonism towards the products, or a sign of likely inability to sell them. Maybe I would never be able to get work as long as I naturally fell into patterns of being casual and friendly with anyone I grew to trust at all...
And then, after a while, it finally hit me. I remember at some point while dealing with this blog, finding something about backlinks. Since I am the author of this blog, Blogger will tell me if there is another website somewhere on the internet that links to this one, and will link me to it so I can go and check out who is giving me publicity. You remember that link on my last post, to the Speaking Phones gallery website? If the owner of that website has access to backlinks too... and I strongly suspect this is a thing that is not limited to blogs... then he just got access to that blog post, everything I said about my uncertainty about selling rhinestone covered bling, and the implication that I had not meant to keep the job long (but was now considering doing so, given how the place exceeded all my expectations). In fact, he got access to all my blog posts, and my Fetlife account, and anything else linked to my online persona and the name SerpentStare.
And it turns out I hadn't gotten the job yet. I might as well have stood up on my chair at an interview and shouted, "I'm gay and furry and kinky and proud of it!". Now that... that would explain this, much better than having said something too casual or failed to answer a non-urgent message with urgent timing.
I guess I can't blame them, especially given how harsh I've been in my socialist and anti-capitalist and anti-work epithets on the site here... I remember hearing somewhere that there's no such thing as bad publicity, and I had hoped that my employers would feel that way... Maybe they feel that if I'm willing to use my personal life to plug and promote my work life, I might use my work life to spread pro-fetish ideology, or something? No, I know better than that. I guess for whatever reason, they didn't want their website even remotely associated with me. I will try to remember not to link to any other employers I end up being considered by, lest they find out I am a deviant of great calibre and pride. You might notice, I have gone back to the two previous posts on this blog that featured my real name and removed it, so that it does not come up on a Google search. However, since I seem to have already lost this one, I will leave the existing links up. Speaking Phones was, after all, the reason I labelled that last one "Cool Stuff on the Internet". The website seems a bit broken, and doesn't show all of their stock... at least not on Chrome... but I really was looking forward to working there. There was a lot of cool gear, and I encourage any readers who are looking for cellphone accessories in the London area or near a different one of their branches to check them out.
For now... If I get an email or phone call from someone at Speaking Phones asking me to remove all direct references and/or links to their website, I will do so. I don't really expect them to do that, though, since it would kind of suggest I'd been discriminated against if it turned out the identifying information on my blog was what kept them from hiring me, and it would suggest that they had, in fact, read my blog, if they asked me to remove content from it. Ah, discrimination. Everyone does it, but no-one can admit it, because then there might be legal problems. I haven't had to deal with it a whole lot - at least, not comparatively speaking... and, well, I guess I kind of forgot it existed and I should stay guarded against it, there, for a moment.
And now I'm broke. I assumed I had a job, I celebrated, I stopped to tell you all (and Ontario Works for that matter) about it... and now... I don't. I will need some help to get through this month, I think... though having had a moment to think about it, I'm pretty sure I've got all the help I need. There are people I can ask for assistance in moments like this, thankfully. Damon among them, though he can't help me with money, only moral support.
I'll make it through this. It's a staggering and disappointing blow, but I'll make it. I'm really glad Damon was there with me when I got that memo, he was a huge help. And to Speaking Phones... like it or not, you have my approval, in pretty much everything except, naturally, the decision not to hire me. Maybe you'll change your mind. Maybe you won't. Anyway, best of luck.
Sunday, December 2, 2012
Family Androgyne
So, I've been a bit idle for a while, my dear readers. Not too long, though, I think. Were you wondering how things turned out with the subby fur boy? He's still around, and swiftly became the love of my life. He's been one of the most important things in my mind for about six weeks now, for better or worse.
I've found myself feeling... an odd impulse. I really, really want to go out and get work, not just to fund my Secret Plan, but... to feed and support my family.
Now, I don't have blood children, obviously, and I don't plan on having any. But my subby boy has swiftly become close as kin to me. Damon already is, though he's been keeping more distant of late. And a quiet reunion with friends I haven't been able to talk to in far too long reminds me I have others as well... And I would love, so much, to be able to earn them shelter and food, at least in part. I really want to make them a home to live in. I fantasize about my loved ones supporting me to search for work, and being there to thank and congratulate me when I bring the spoils home to them.
And I find myself wondering... is this some weird, filtered version of the impulse I keep hearing hits the young once they reach the right age, to settle down and start a family? Maybe it is. I am very proud, personally, that my version doesn't involve unnecessary production of additional population. Why should it? Not only am I VHEMT, I already have a family, and I love them dearly and want to support them in all of the ways I can... as well as helping them to support each other.
It helps, of course, that I recently introduced the new subby boy to one of my older, more long-term, less obsessively full-time loves... and their first impressions seem to be that they agree abjectly, each of the other, that this person is just as awesome as I thought they were, and it is amazing and wonderful to have another such awesome person to know and like. They want to adopt each other. The thought got me thinking about the whole household issue, and sighing wistfully over it. Mind... if I call in help and support from all of my supports who are most likely to be able to give it... and turn over some responsibility for care of the intense, attention needing sub to another truly awesome person I trust not to let him down... it should help me immensely with mounting an effective search.
I guess I really am just a home maker. I feel like such a family-oriented androgyne. ^.^
In other news, said subby sweetheart just showed me a rap song I enjoy. It feels really weird for me to type that sentence. I usually hate rap with a passion - when it's not derogatory, it still doesn't stop being self-congratulatory posing. Except... except in this case, the congratulatory posing is not directed toward the self, at least not entirely. It's interesting hearing rap arraying out in street verse and rhythm the praises of someone else, besides the singer, for once. And it reminds me, in my heart of hearts and my mind of minds, that any language can speak truth and things worth hearing, even if they often don't. Yes, even rap.
Besides, it's an amazing track to get pumped up and prepared to do and be awesome to. Remember the Name. I have one word, and only one, to voice to the artists who made this: Respect.
Which brings me to a final thing. Sub boy has got me playing a Dragonball Z based roleplaying game with him online, and it rocks all our socks clean off, it's so much damn fun. Maybe because I didn't know all that much about the series, but already had some degree of respect for it. Maybe because it's a fresh new system that hasn't gotten stale in my head. He runs it fast and loose, which fits DBZ perfectly, and he's teaching me the lore with references and inside jokes, and the fact that we're effectively playing a slightly altered timeline of the show's plot, just as non-canon characters. He is an amazing DM. And I approve. Also, props to whoever made the above Anime Music Video, because the way it uses the song's lyrics to talk about the characters and make completely valid points about who they are and what they're about is fucking brilliant.
I've found myself feeling... an odd impulse. I really, really want to go out and get work, not just to fund my Secret Plan, but... to feed and support my family.
Now, I don't have blood children, obviously, and I don't plan on having any. But my subby boy has swiftly become close as kin to me. Damon already is, though he's been keeping more distant of late. And a quiet reunion with friends I haven't been able to talk to in far too long reminds me I have others as well... And I would love, so much, to be able to earn them shelter and food, at least in part. I really want to make them a home to live in. I fantasize about my loved ones supporting me to search for work, and being there to thank and congratulate me when I bring the spoils home to them.
And I find myself wondering... is this some weird, filtered version of the impulse I keep hearing hits the young once they reach the right age, to settle down and start a family? Maybe it is. I am very proud, personally, that my version doesn't involve unnecessary production of additional population. Why should it? Not only am I VHEMT, I already have a family, and I love them dearly and want to support them in all of the ways I can... as well as helping them to support each other.
It helps, of course, that I recently introduced the new subby boy to one of my older, more long-term, less obsessively full-time loves... and their first impressions seem to be that they agree abjectly, each of the other, that this person is just as awesome as I thought they were, and it is amazing and wonderful to have another such awesome person to know and like. They want to adopt each other. The thought got me thinking about the whole household issue, and sighing wistfully over it. Mind... if I call in help and support from all of my supports who are most likely to be able to give it... and turn over some responsibility for care of the intense, attention needing sub to another truly awesome person I trust not to let him down... it should help me immensely with mounting an effective search.
I guess I really am just a home maker. I feel like such a family-oriented androgyne. ^.^
In other news, said subby sweetheart just showed me a rap song I enjoy. It feels really weird for me to type that sentence. I usually hate rap with a passion - when it's not derogatory, it still doesn't stop being self-congratulatory posing. Except... except in this case, the congratulatory posing is not directed toward the self, at least not entirely. It's interesting hearing rap arraying out in street verse and rhythm the praises of someone else, besides the singer, for once. And it reminds me, in my heart of hearts and my mind of minds, that any language can speak truth and things worth hearing, even if they often don't. Yes, even rap.
Besides, it's an amazing track to get pumped up and prepared to do and be awesome to. Remember the Name. I have one word, and only one, to voice to the artists who made this: Respect.
Which brings me to a final thing. Sub boy has got me playing a Dragonball Z based roleplaying game with him online, and it rocks all our socks clean off, it's so much damn fun. Maybe because I didn't know all that much about the series, but already had some degree of respect for it. Maybe because it's a fresh new system that hasn't gotten stale in my head. He runs it fast and loose, which fits DBZ perfectly, and he's teaching me the lore with references and inside jokes, and the fact that we're effectively playing a slightly altered timeline of the show's plot, just as non-canon characters. He is an amazing DM. And I approve. Also, props to whoever made the above Anime Music Video, because the way it uses the song's lyrics to talk about the characters and make completely valid points about who they are and what they're about is fucking brilliant.
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