| You Are An INFJ |
 The Protector You live your life with integrity, originality, vision, and creativity. Independent and stubborn, you rarely stray from your vision - no matter what it is. You are an excellent listener, with almost infinite patience. You have complex, deep feelings, and you take great care to express them. In love, you truly see relationships as an opportunity to connect and grow. You enjoy relationships as long as they are improving and changing. You can't stand stagnation. At work, you stay motivated and happy... as long as you are working toward a dream you support. You would make a great photographer, alternative medicine guru, or teacher. How you see yourself: Hardworking, ethical, and helpful When other people don't get you, they see you as: Manipulative, weak, and unstable |
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
Evidently, My Personality Type is Either "Sheep" or "Lemming"
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
Well, I guess that's something...
I found out today that my friend at work, who got me the job, has gotten a new job and is leaving. Which sucks on the one hand, because he's a good guy, and I don't enjoy talking to the other guys quite as much. Not that they aren't nice guys, it's just they're not all that I usually look for in good company. One is not as funny as he thinks he is, another might be okay, but I haven't really worked with him enough to know, and he doesn't work very often anyway, and the last one barely speaks english. He's Phillipino. I know, I know. We're supposed to be accepting of other cultures and all. I have a problem with accents okay? It's not personal, but figuring out what the hell you're talking about makes me tired, and you can't get any conversational rhythm that way.
Anyway, the OTHER hand is that the guy who's leaving is the department manager, which means everybody sort of moves up a rung most likely. Which means I SHOULD get my FULL TIME and BENEFITS. Which is a bit of alright. And not a moment too soon. This morning I woke up, and my lip had expanded to about twice it's normal size, which is never fun. When you go to bed, it's just sort of something that you take for granted that you'll wake up in roughly the same condition as you went to sleep, barring perhaps a numb arm, if you slept funny. It's very disconcerting to wake up and an integral part of your face has been misbehaving while you were unconcious.
Anyway, I went to the doc, and he attempted to reassure me that though there wasn't any bruising, it was possible I had bit my lip in the night, and if THAT wasn't it, it could be an alergic reaction (though I haven't changed anything and never had such a reaction before). I was somewhat reassured, but would doubtless have been MORE reassured if it weren't for the slight look of puzzlement on his face and the fact that he told me "I have no idea what's wrong with you." Still, he said he was confident that whatever it was, it wasn't serious, and he could send me home.
So after that, I went to work, where I probably reeked all day, because I'd gone to the hospital on my bike (which is actually faster than public transportation in this particular case, because of the train route... I'd have had to go out of my way downtown to catch a connecting train.) and it had gotten somewhat warm.
I got off work at 10 (they asked me to work extra hours TWICE so far this week, so that's good. A. more hours, B. in a pinch, they can count on me over the other two part timers) and that's been my day. I just got home. Oh, and my lip is still puffy, though not quite as alarmingly so as this morning. How was your day?
Anyway, the OTHER hand is that the guy who's leaving is the department manager, which means everybody sort of moves up a rung most likely. Which means I SHOULD get my FULL TIME and BENEFITS. Which is a bit of alright. And not a moment too soon. This morning I woke up, and my lip had expanded to about twice it's normal size, which is never fun. When you go to bed, it's just sort of something that you take for granted that you'll wake up in roughly the same condition as you went to sleep, barring perhaps a numb arm, if you slept funny. It's very disconcerting to wake up and an integral part of your face has been misbehaving while you were unconcious.
Anyway, I went to the doc, and he attempted to reassure me that though there wasn't any bruising, it was possible I had bit my lip in the night, and if THAT wasn't it, it could be an alergic reaction (though I haven't changed anything and never had such a reaction before). I was somewhat reassured, but would doubtless have been MORE reassured if it weren't for the slight look of puzzlement on his face and the fact that he told me "I have no idea what's wrong with you." Still, he said he was confident that whatever it was, it wasn't serious, and he could send me home.
So after that, I went to work, where I probably reeked all day, because I'd gone to the hospital on my bike (which is actually faster than public transportation in this particular case, because of the train route... I'd have had to go out of my way downtown to catch a connecting train.) and it had gotten somewhat warm.
I got off work at 10 (they asked me to work extra hours TWICE so far this week, so that's good. A. more hours, B. in a pinch, they can count on me over the other two part timers) and that's been my day. I just got home. Oh, and my lip is still puffy, though not quite as alarmingly so as this morning. How was your day?
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Ah, what the heck... The Music Meme
(stolen from Partly Divine who stole it from Welsh Pixie)
The Music Meme
The Music Meme
What does next year have in store for me?
Climbing To The Moon - Eels
What's my love life like?
Just a Gigolo (I Ain't Got Nobody) - Louis Prima
What do I say when life gets hard?
Here We Go Again - Ray Charles
What do I think when I get up in the morning?
Take Me Down To The Infirmary - Cracker
(particularly after a night of drinking)
What song will I dance to at my wedding?
I'll Back You Up - Dave Matthews Band
What is my ideal career?
Cleanin' Windows - Van Morrison
(I'm trying to go back into Tech Support... get it?)
Your favorite saying?
Everything's Not Lost - Coldplay
Favorite place?
Never Been To Spain - Three Dog Night
What do/did I think of my parents?
Sick Of Goodbyes - Cracker
Ideal First Date?
Making Love And Music - Dr. Hook and the Medicine Show
Describe Myself.
I Am A Rock - Simon & Garfunkel
The thing I like doing most?
Rockin' the Suburbs - Ben Folds
The song that describes my significant other?
Imaginary Girl - The Bees (U.S.)
What is my state of mind like at the moment?
Homesick - Soul Asylum
How will I die?
Limo Wreck - Soundgarden
Monday, September 24, 2007
Holy shit
This guy was my boss in Italy. I'm kind of surprised he knows people call him V-Rod, that was always sort of a joke. He never liked to have his brother brought up in conversation, the way I hear it.
http://www.nytimes.com/2007/09/04/sports/baseball/04rodriguez.html
http://www.nytimes.com/2007/09/04/sports/baseball/04rodriguez.html
Sunday, September 23, 2007
It's Official
Working in retail fucking blows. I never know what my schedule is going to be for a given week until the Friday or Saturday immediately preceding it, depending whether or not I work on Friday, I'm routinely expected to perform tasks I've never done with a minimum of training, and no supervision, my dad and his wife came down this weekend, and I MISSED most of their trip because I had to work both days. Of course, my dad didn't let me know for sure he was going to be here until Thursday, so I couldn't be sure to take the day off, but it doesn't matter, because they'd likely have scheduled me anyway.
Ordinarily seeing too much of my dad and his wife gets to be a little awkward. I mean I like them both, but we just don't seem to have much to talk about a lot of the time, but she's started taking guitar lessons (I should say a class, as lessons sort of implies one on one personal attention... there are apparently about 60 other people in with her) but it means that we have something in common, so I was looking forward to having another strummer around, even if she is just starting out. I did get to talk to her about it for about a half hour before going to work this morning.
I rode my bike out to a park in Los Gatos too, recently, and just spent the afternoon reading. That was pretty nice. I haven't done that in entirely too long. And I hadn't been near a nice large kind of park area in a while either. I think all these tiny little neighborhood parks are nice, but really kind of depressing. It's hard to feel like your surrounded by nature when there's a giant intersection 50 yards away with a huge shopping center just across it.
Anyway, I'm looking for work AGAIN, which also sucks.
Ordinarily seeing too much of my dad and his wife gets to be a little awkward. I mean I like them both, but we just don't seem to have much to talk about a lot of the time, but she's started taking guitar lessons (I should say a class, as lessons sort of implies one on one personal attention... there are apparently about 60 other people in with her) but it means that we have something in common, so I was looking forward to having another strummer around, even if she is just starting out. I did get to talk to her about it for about a half hour before going to work this morning.
I rode my bike out to a park in Los Gatos too, recently, and just spent the afternoon reading. That was pretty nice. I haven't done that in entirely too long. And I hadn't been near a nice large kind of park area in a while either. I think all these tiny little neighborhood parks are nice, but really kind of depressing. It's hard to feel like your surrounded by nature when there's a giant intersection 50 yards away with a huge shopping center just across it.
Anyway, I'm looking for work AGAIN, which also sucks.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
what a shitty day.
So first off, I'm late for the train. Now, that's not going to make me late for work, because I left early so I'd have time to grab a bite to eat before work, but it DOES mean that I'm gonna have to go without eating until I can get a snack on my 15 minute break. I only worked 4 hours today, so no scheduled lunch. Okay. That sucks, but I can handle it. Then the goddamn train went right past my stop. It slowed down a bit, and presumably, there was no one on the platform, and I guess if nobody rings the stop request, he doesn't stop. That might seem kind of obvious to you people, but I've been riding the train for a long time and that HAS NEVER HAPPENED BEFORE. They ALWAYS stop at every stop. Whatever. I got off at the next stop, and waited for the train in the opposite direction, which came about ten minutes later. Now I WAS going to be late for work. Not so much that I'd get in trouble, but enough that my half-formulated plan of scarfing down a bag of chips before clocking on was totally blown.
Finally, I get to work, and immediately get bitched at. Not severely, because it came from a friend of mine, but it sucked nonetheless. Basically, apparently, I'd printed up some estimates for a customer, which is a no-no, but I figured as long as I didn't GIVE it to him, I'd be okay. The idea is that we don't want to do all the work designing a frame job for a customer, and then he takes our estimate to some other frame shop, and they underbid us by 10 bucks and get the job without doing any work at all, whereas we spent an hour or more putting together a high quality job for nothing. I understand that, and I think it's reasonable, but if they don't want me using estimates, then there really ought to be some facility for finding a total price on a group of workorders beyond just writing all the parts down by hand and totally them up. If we're doing that, then why do we have an automated system anyway? Fucking stupid. Turns out, the way the system works, if you do an estimate, it goes all the way up the corporate chain, and they see it as "lost revenue" and all kinds of reports and shit get filed, starting with, no fucking joke, one of the companies vice presidents.
On top of that, apparently I didn't do a good enough job facing the shelves the other night. Basically what that means is you have to go around and straighten everything. But I've never really been trained, apart from vague suggestions from the other framers, and I get vague nebulous fucking feedback. I don't get "the frames on aisle 47 were uneven," instead, I get "Yeah, the boss wasn't happy." Great. I'm sorry the boss had a shitty day. That really doesn't help me do it any better and avoid getting bitched at next time, does it?
Anyway, after that it was a pretty normal day. I pulled my weight for once, meaning I did enough framing and took in enough orders to pay for the hours I worked. They have a whole system worked out. It's both gay and retarded. Basically, every job you take in is worth so many minutes. Regardless of what's involved, or much it cost. So I can take in a job that consists entirely of cutting a mat board, and it's worth the same to me, time-wise as a $1000 frame order. Gay. But then SEPERATE from that, we're supposed to beat these projected goals based on previous years sales, and beat the specific dollar amount from the same day a year previous. Retarded. Apparently the other day, the boss got all worked up because we came up 150 dollars short. I don't know what he expects us to do. We can't sell anything to customers who don't come to the counter. BUT... I worked 4 hours, and earned probably 6 or 7 on the schedule, so that's a plus. Hopefully it will equate to another bump in the number of hours I'm getting... or at least keeping the hours I got this week.
After that I came home. The memory of being chewed out first thing had kind of faded, and I'd been reading a book that I don't think I'd classify as "good," but it's been pretty entertaining at points, so I was feeling pretty up. I got off the train and walked a half a block or so to the house, opened the door, and immediately knew something was wrong. The place REEKED. So I walked in, careful to pay close attention to where I was stepping, and turned on the lights. One of the dogs had apparently gotten sick, and left a big greenish puddle of shit. I'm not exaggerating. It was green, and it was a fucking puddle. GROSS. I contemplated leaving it for my sister. It's not my god damn dog, after all, but then I figured I'd be left to contend with the smell, AND I'd get bitched at, and I certainly didn't like coming home to a puddle of shit, so I didn't figure my sister would be too excited about it either. And I couldn't really blame the dog, I mean she got sick. What's she gonna do, go to the emergency room? She DID manage to avoid shitting on the carpet, at least. It did a fair bit to bring my earlier shitty mood back to the fore though. So there I am, on my hands and knees by the kitchen mopping up a puddle of runny shit with a paper towel and a plastic bag over my hand when my sister came home. After I'd explained what happened, she said "Sorry, dude," while she spritzed some sort of vinegar solution over the spot I'd just cleaned in order to disinfect it.
So I sat around kind of on the fringe of the conversation she and her boyfriend had regarding her day at work, and the new hire she's trying to get pushed through, and watching Jeopardy. My sister had a meeting to go to, and as she was walking out the door, she asked me to do the dishes. It's sort of my thing, these days, I guess. One of the ways I contribute to the household. So I said I would. After Jeopardy was over, I put on some music, which is what I always do when I'm going to do any kind of housework, and started in on the dishes. The dishwasher was full and running, so rather than wait, I just filled the sink and started the other dishes by hand. I had Paul Simon on, I didn't mind. I'd gotten about 3/4 of the way through a pretty substantial pile of glasses (we've had company... some wine and beer was drunk) I broke one, and cut the shit out of my hand. It didn't hurt too bad, but I cut my knuckle right down to the tendon or bone, or whatever it is that hides directly under all the skin. The skin, being wet, and beginning to get a bit pruney, sliced wide open without a whole lot of resistance, and it bled like a son of a bitch. So I'm looking for a band-aid now, checking in what seemed to me the most obvious place, the medicine cabinet. No bandages. So I knock on the master bedroom door, and my sister's boyfriend came out and helped me locate some bandages, and was very helpful, despite not knowing anything about first aid. Mostly he was helpful because he found me some gauze and knew where the bandages were. Good stuff to know when you're bleeding profusely.
Anyway, I think i've got the bleeding stopped now, and I'm happy to report my savaged knuckle apparently doesn't impede my typing. Hopefully the same can be said for my guitar playing, because I kind of expect this to take a week or more to heal, and I don't want to go a week without playing anything.
How was your day?
Finally, I get to work, and immediately get bitched at. Not severely, because it came from a friend of mine, but it sucked nonetheless. Basically, apparently, I'd printed up some estimates for a customer, which is a no-no, but I figured as long as I didn't GIVE it to him, I'd be okay. The idea is that we don't want to do all the work designing a frame job for a customer, and then he takes our estimate to some other frame shop, and they underbid us by 10 bucks and get the job without doing any work at all, whereas we spent an hour or more putting together a high quality job for nothing. I understand that, and I think it's reasonable, but if they don't want me using estimates, then there really ought to be some facility for finding a total price on a group of workorders beyond just writing all the parts down by hand and totally them up. If we're doing that, then why do we have an automated system anyway? Fucking stupid. Turns out, the way the system works, if you do an estimate, it goes all the way up the corporate chain, and they see it as "lost revenue" and all kinds of reports and shit get filed, starting with, no fucking joke, one of the companies vice presidents.
On top of that, apparently I didn't do a good enough job facing the shelves the other night. Basically what that means is you have to go around and straighten everything. But I've never really been trained, apart from vague suggestions from the other framers, and I get vague nebulous fucking feedback. I don't get "the frames on aisle 47 were uneven," instead, I get "Yeah, the boss wasn't happy." Great. I'm sorry the boss had a shitty day. That really doesn't help me do it any better and avoid getting bitched at next time, does it?
Anyway, after that it was a pretty normal day. I pulled my weight for once, meaning I did enough framing and took in enough orders to pay for the hours I worked. They have a whole system worked out. It's both gay and retarded. Basically, every job you take in is worth so many minutes. Regardless of what's involved, or much it cost. So I can take in a job that consists entirely of cutting a mat board, and it's worth the same to me, time-wise as a $1000 frame order. Gay. But then SEPERATE from that, we're supposed to beat these projected goals based on previous years sales, and beat the specific dollar amount from the same day a year previous. Retarded. Apparently the other day, the boss got all worked up because we came up 150 dollars short. I don't know what he expects us to do. We can't sell anything to customers who don't come to the counter. BUT... I worked 4 hours, and earned probably 6 or 7 on the schedule, so that's a plus. Hopefully it will equate to another bump in the number of hours I'm getting... or at least keeping the hours I got this week.
After that I came home. The memory of being chewed out first thing had kind of faded, and I'd been reading a book that I don't think I'd classify as "good," but it's been pretty entertaining at points, so I was feeling pretty up. I got off the train and walked a half a block or so to the house, opened the door, and immediately knew something was wrong. The place REEKED. So I walked in, careful to pay close attention to where I was stepping, and turned on the lights. One of the dogs had apparently gotten sick, and left a big greenish puddle of shit. I'm not exaggerating. It was green, and it was a fucking puddle. GROSS. I contemplated leaving it for my sister. It's not my god damn dog, after all, but then I figured I'd be left to contend with the smell, AND I'd get bitched at, and I certainly didn't like coming home to a puddle of shit, so I didn't figure my sister would be too excited about it either. And I couldn't really blame the dog, I mean she got sick. What's she gonna do, go to the emergency room? She DID manage to avoid shitting on the carpet, at least. It did a fair bit to bring my earlier shitty mood back to the fore though. So there I am, on my hands and knees by the kitchen mopping up a puddle of runny shit with a paper towel and a plastic bag over my hand when my sister came home. After I'd explained what happened, she said "Sorry, dude," while she spritzed some sort of vinegar solution over the spot I'd just cleaned in order to disinfect it.
So I sat around kind of on the fringe of the conversation she and her boyfriend had regarding her day at work, and the new hire she's trying to get pushed through, and watching Jeopardy. My sister had a meeting to go to, and as she was walking out the door, she asked me to do the dishes. It's sort of my thing, these days, I guess. One of the ways I contribute to the household. So I said I would. After Jeopardy was over, I put on some music, which is what I always do when I'm going to do any kind of housework, and started in on the dishes. The dishwasher was full and running, so rather than wait, I just filled the sink and started the other dishes by hand. I had Paul Simon on, I didn't mind. I'd gotten about 3/4 of the way through a pretty substantial pile of glasses (we've had company... some wine and beer was drunk) I broke one, and cut the shit out of my hand. It didn't hurt too bad, but I cut my knuckle right down to the tendon or bone, or whatever it is that hides directly under all the skin. The skin, being wet, and beginning to get a bit pruney, sliced wide open without a whole lot of resistance, and it bled like a son of a bitch. So I'm looking for a band-aid now, checking in what seemed to me the most obvious place, the medicine cabinet. No bandages. So I knock on the master bedroom door, and my sister's boyfriend came out and helped me locate some bandages, and was very helpful, despite not knowing anything about first aid. Mostly he was helpful because he found me some gauze and knew where the bandages were. Good stuff to know when you're bleeding profusely.
Anyway, I think i've got the bleeding stopped now, and I'm happy to report my savaged knuckle apparently doesn't impede my typing. Hopefully the same can be said for my guitar playing, because I kind of expect this to take a week or more to heal, and I don't want to go a week without playing anything.
How was your day?
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