Happy New Year

I suppose I should write something, considering it's a new year and a new excuse to talk. I haven't been in the right frame of mind to commit anything to this blog. Things have become unbelievably tough for me because of everything that I've bitched about for the last few months. I don't intend to hash them all out here again. I do have a few good things coming along starting tomorrow and next week. I only hope that 2004 will be more prosperous than 2003 was.

So, good luck to you all, and Happy New Year!

Progress

This morning I had an interview in Vacaville, about 50 miles east of Oakland. It was at 10:00 am, and I was bright and early (after a mucho scary dream about a Mexican priestess and Jesus who both suggested that I go back to church and get baptized again...totally serious). The interview went pretty well. I mean, I really don't have the interviewing skills that I probably should by this time in my life. The guy was very friendly, and we chatted. As a parting note, he said that I should think the job over and call him if I'm still interested. I'd interview again with him and his boss in about a week. I am interested. It sounds like a great position and a great opportunity. I just have to learn some patience.

I have another interview on Tuesday with a woman who's already biased against me. Working as a desktop publisher for the last few years, she doesn't feel that I have the adequate experience proof-reading. Hmmm. I don't know. Is that a non sequitur? So, I think it's just an interview to humor me or her or both. I'm actually more interested in this "humor" job than the job I interviewed for this morning.

Still, it's all progress.

And it's so much better than the last few months of news. The only bad thing is that my former boss still hasn't paid me. Still. I'd say that Net 120 was exceedingly generous, wouldn't you? So, I've put in an e-mail to him more or less demanding that he get his shit together and pay me. All of this over five grand. What a colossal waste of time.

Friday Five

What one thing are you most looking forward to...

1. ...today?
   Since I am writing this late, I'll just say that I was looking forward to the interview I had this morning.

2. ...over the next week?
   Getting paid.

3. ...this year?
   Moving to a new place...far, far away from the Bay Area and starting my life over again.

4. ...over the next five years?
   Enjoying myself with new friends and new adventures and new trips abroad...if they would stop canceling all the damn BA flights, that is.

5. ...for the rest of your life?
   Finding a dog and a house who need taking care of...learning more foreign languages...mastering the art of cooking...growing old gracefully with as few regrets as possible.

Happy Friday.

"My New Life," Take 32

Well, let's see. What kind of fun stuff can I write about today? Oh, I know! A couple of nights ago, as I'm putting everything in its place on my way to count sheep, I checked my e-mail. Big mistake. I mean, it's 10:47 pm on a Sunday night. Who would send me e-mail that couldn't wait until Monday morning? My former boss, that's who.

And in his e-mail, he responded to my demands of payment with his own sob story: blah blah blah. Whatever. So we engaged in yet another e-mail tug o' war, and this time I won! I convinced him that to pay me was the proper thing to do. Course I threw in a bit about destitution and despair, all of which is true, of course, but I just hate to resort to drama to get people to do what they're supposed to do. So on Friday afternoon, I'll have to go to their office to pick up the payment. Then I can finally move on with my life and leave my past behind. I need to leave my behind in the past.

So, in addition to all of that, I had an interview on Tuesday that panned out and a new (temp) job starting next Thursday. I'm so totally excited that I really can start over again. It will only last four months, but it's going to be a good four months. Plus I get to keep my car!!

You know, I may have said this before, but once I start thinking the unthinkable, the unthinkable doesn't seem so bad anymore. I mean, I had almost given up my car to the Repo Man, and I had begun to accept it. In fact, I had begun to search for its replacement...a used car, much less in value, but a choice I probably should have made two years ago. Whatever.

My point is that in the last four months, I've tried so hard to keep my life the way it was that any concession I could make, I saw as defeat. And that's just not so. These "things" are just things that may have a large monetary value, they may have a large sentimental value, but they're replaceable. I'm just sorry that it takes looking at the bottom of the barrel to make me realize it all.

In addition to that, I started to amaze myself how resilient I was and how easy it was for me to think of new ideas, new strategies, brainstorming how to resolve this nasty mess, rather than let it bog me down and get me all sullen and depressed. I was walking home from the interview yesterday and I had half a dozen new ideas pop into my head. It might have been the fresh air and the exercise. It might have been the possibility of a new job and a new chance. I don't know, but I stopped being my own enemy for a while.

I'm not completely over it all..."out of the woods" so to speak. I have a lot to accomplish and a lot to make up for in the next few months, but it's a start, and I'm glad to be starting over.

And there I go getting all "big thoughts" again. So I'll stop.

All the World Is an Altar

I had a mini-revelation last night. I was talking about my time as an altar boy when I was in junior high and high school. I enjoyed serving mass. I liked the pomp and circumstance, the candles, the robes, the ritual. And I must have said on more than one occasion that I am clearly not a religious person. In fact, if anything, I'm anti-Catholic. But whenever I think of being an altar boy, I have good memories.

So then the mini-revelation comes along, and I equate the whole Catholic mass to the theatre. Yes, that may be blasphemy to some people, but whatever. (Come and get me, Oral Roberts.) I'm not here to debate theology. If you think about it, there are so many similarities: the altar/stage, the priest/actor, the robes/costumes and makeup, the mass itself/memorized lines and rehearsed steps, the congregation/audience.

And I was good at all of it. I knew the role of both sides of the altar. I knew my "lines" and I knew where to be when I needed to be there. I was there early to light the candles and prepare the "props." I stayed after mass to clean up. It was fun for me, so much fun that eventually I memorized the mass and could recite it with the priest, albeit under my breath...can you imagine that? And the other cute altar boys with whom I served... During the summer, I served the early morning weekday masses, and I loved riding my bike to church before anyone else was up and driving to work. I didn't like serving funerals, though.

And when I was in high school, I realized how much fun working with the drama department could be. I loved working the sets and the flies, and then when I got a few minor roles, I was too happy. So making the connection between the mass and the theatre, it's no wonder that I would enjoy it so much...in retrospect. You know?

Mutterings

1. Mitchell :: Cameron
2. Mercury :: thermometer
3. Cycle :: bi-
4. Engagement :: party
5. Alternative :: music
6. Gang :: bang
7. Emotional :: distress
8. Skinny :: mother fucker
9. Hypochondriac :: someone I know
10. Insecure :: who me?

Straight Michael

You know, I have to ask this because it comes up so often: When I do a periodic search on my site stats (periodic and egotistic), I often find a search for "straight Michael" and it puzzles me. I mean really, and then to have that query directed at me? Ha. That simply does not compute.

Assessments

Today, I went in to the staffing agency who got me this job that I'm starting on Thursday. The staffing agent wanted me to take an assessment for Adobe InDesign. I've been using that software for about three years now, and I know it pretty well...very well...why be modest? She wanted me to prove it, so I did.

The results of the assessment will help her find my next assignment. I don't know how I did yet, but if I had to give myself a performance rating, I would say 80–85%. I only had an hour in which to complete the necessary tasks, and I completed most of them. I only had a few things left to touch up, and I ran out of time. We'll see what she has to say about it. Regardless, I am proud of this because I learned this program (which is the one of the only competitors to Quark XPress) on my own, in my own spare time. It's such a cool thing that I love to use, and it became a hobby for me. Now I'm hoping to turn that hobby into cash, baby, cash!! Yeah!!

That's all. I'm looking forward to working again, but I have to say, I'll be a little resentful that I have to get up at 6:30 a.m. again. But I'm not ungrateful!!

Don't Get Around Much Anymore

Haven't had much to say here lately, which is rare because I'm always talking at home...so much that Roommate has perfected the look that tells me that I'm blithering and boring him to tears. Whatevah.

I'm working. It's only been two days, and the job will be a piece o' cake. It's so similar to what I did at the pharmas, minus the huge egos of the doctors and senior vice presidents, that I should have no problem doing good things there. The commute is fifteen minutes on BART...a reverse commute, which means I get a seat coming and going. And that's really it. Quiet office. Friendly people (for a change). No internet access, though. How does that suck? "But we're not at work to surf the net, Michael." Yeah, bite me. It's this kind of job that makes me understand just how completely spoiled we were at the pharma. Believe me, those people have carte blanche to do whatever they want, whenever, however, and with however many office supplies it takes! It's only four months. Then I have to figure out what I'm going to do for my next feat.

In other news...I was just crossing the bridge into unconsciousness the other night when I was awoken by a horrible scream from our new neighbor. She's not really new; she just moved from one end of the building to right next door to me. I sat up in bed, straining to hear any potential cries for help or whatever. I didn't hear any bumps, nothing breaking, just her intermittent screams. The dogs weren't freaking out or anything. And then I hear a man's voice start to moan, and I realized that my neighbor wasn't hurt or in need of help. She's just a screamer. Isn't that nice? So at odd hours on a Tuesday night/Wednesday morning, I can hear her every goings-on, and thank my landlord for the sturdy, well-crafted walls that separate our apartments. In the five years that I've lived here, I haven't really heard that much through the walls: music, movies, the occasional lover's quarrel, but never sex. That's curious. And that's OK, too. Don't start now on my account!

That's all.

Friday

At this moment, what is your favorite...

1. ...song? "Red Blooded Woman," by Kylie Minogue.
2. ...food? I'm still in love with pizza, really cheesy, saucy pizza. Hey, I could be a pizza. I'm really cheesy and saucy. See what I mean?
3. ...tv show? I would have to say "Good Eats" even though I can't ever watch it. I get tapes of the show from time to time, and it has inspired me to attempt my own culinary creations. Doesn't always work out, but at least I'm trying.
4. ...scent? Men
5. ...quote? "Bite me," if that can be considered a quote anymore.

Happy weekend.

Everywhere You Go

I am so with this guy. I am so with this. At this point in time, there is simply no reason why we can't be wireless everywhere we go, whether it's the top of Mt. Tam or in the BART tunnels of the City, we should have access to the Internet on our computers and PDAs, as well as cellular signals on our mobiles. I don't understand why we can't do this right here, right now. Well...after my most recent phone call with AT&T "customer service," I know the reason, so don't call me naive. Of course, there are other social issues that are more important. I guess it's where your priorities lie.

Mutter Blue

1. Political :: ambitions
2. Concentration :: lack of
3. Fish :: go
4. Lunacy :: what, me? that's my life, the world around me, etc.
5. Red :: herring
6. Imply :: "And just what do you mean by that?"
7. Recognize :: "Oh, you know? You recognize?"
8. Sexist :: Sexist, egotistical, lying, hypocritical bigot.
9. Commercial :: Irish Spring, Tide, Coca-Cola, get my drift?
10. Stricken :: grief

I'm spending my weekend working. Got a call for assistance with a submission running out of time. The deadline is tonight, Sunday, and they are in dire need of formatting and general publishing support. So, natch, being the giving person that I am, and considering that the director is this really cute, really friendly guy that we worked with at the big pharma. He needed our help, and we could only oblige him. So, I've got a second-story view of I-580, the clear blue sky, and the hills of Pleasanton, California all day today.

Toxic

Well. I put in a full work week in the span of two days this weekend. Thirty-six hours in one weekend. That's just plain absurd, but in this case it was necessary. These documents were so messed up, I mean, they were tore up, they were that bad. So, we left there with platinum halos over our heads and an open contract to come back and format their documents again as necessary. Believe me, it would be my pleasure if it would prevent this kind of mess in the future. Some of the formatting was so bad that it could only have been made by a conscious decision on someone's part. I mean, who puts an odd page section break in running text? I can think of instances where it would be appropriate, but nothing I saw last night merited an odd page section break. It would have been enough to let the text flow naturally. So we began to think that they made these formatting decisions just because they could, you know? Please, step away from the keyboard.

The three of us had a lot of fun working together again, mostly at their expense, but they deserved it. There was one person who will forever be known as "Chicken Lady" simply because all she could talk about was a big bucket of KFC, extra crispy. And had you seen her, you knew she would have had the whole bucket to herself. And the mashed potatoes. And the biscuits.

I was home by 5:30 a.m. (sic) and so sick I couldn't work today. I called in and just couldn't make it. They've been letting me go early because they haven't had enough work for me anyway, so I didn't think it would be a big deal. We'll see. I'm a temp for crying out loud. Who cares? But what's really funny is that last month I was broke and unemployed. This month, I've got two jobs and, well, I'm still broke, but I'm working my ass off. Be careful what you wish for.

A Taste of Poison Paradise

I had a little adventure this morning. I was on BART, last car, no one else in the car, headphones on, music loud, singing loud, and the train stopped, as usual, at Lafayette. No big deal. We don't do express trains on BART, or so I thought. The train starts moving again, and it crosses over into the middle track...the breakdown lane for BART trains. I'm all, huh? A BART operator got on the train at Lafayette and went into the operator's cabin. I thought nothing of it because they often do this to get from one place to another, and why would they want to sit with the hoi polloi when they can have their own private space, complete with windows that open?

So the train just sits there for about ten minutes. And I started to panic. I was gone from work yesterday (eating yummy cashew chicken for lunch, but don't tell anyone), and I didn't want to be late for work today. But then again, who cares, I'm a temp, blah blah blah. And just when I'm resigned to being a little late for work, the train starts moving again, except in the direction whence I came...headed back to San Francisco. Hmmm.

And it didn't stop at Lafayette, or Orinda, or Rockridge. It occurred to me to peer out the window at the marquees on the platforms I was passing. At MacArthur station, I saw that my Concord train had become a Train Won't Stop train. These are trains that fly through the stations with no passengers (or, now that I think about it, perhaps they do have passengers, trapped, and panicky) going from one end of the line to another. The marquee reads "Train Won't Stop" in big red letters as it flies through.

On and on we sped through the line, passing through all of San Francisco's stops, through Colma, and ending in Millbrae, the other end of the line. The conductor got out of his cabin, noticed me sitting there, and asked me what I was doing. I told him that "I didn't hear that the train went out of service at Lafayette, I had my headphones on and all, and there wasn't an opportunity to get off the train after that. And...by the way...you didn't mention the fact that the train had gone out of service at Lafayette when you got on the train, cruised me, and then went into your little cabin. But thanks for the express ride. It was cool." He just kinda shrugged and walked off the train.

Two and a half hours later, I walked in to work. While I was zooming through the Bay Area, I called my supervisor here to let her know what happened, and she seemed reluctant to believe me. I admit, it doesn't happen every day.

Stop the Madness

Housing in the Bay Area

First of all, do we really need yet another commentary about how hard it is to afford to live in the Bay Area? Every so often, we get a news article or a "human interest" segment on the nightly news about the cost of living around these parts. All articles mention the median-priced home, the income levels of certain professions...but, either I'm bored off my ass today, or this chart really put it more into perspective for me. $40,050 is very low income?

So a salaried $38,000-per-year employee is considered poor in the Bay Area? Are they eligible for food stamps or public assistance? Probably not. And I guess it goes without saying that they will never be able to afford a house or even a one-bedroom apartment in the Bay Area. I don't know how anyone can expect one to have to earn four times what one makes now just to begin to afford a house here. And how is one supposed to do that when all of the major money-making professions are illegal in the United States?

This really is insanity.

This was too good to pass up

Got this in an e-mail today. Didn't pass it on to the seven people as instructed, and I put it here instead. Perhaps I'll have seven visitors who read it and then the chain e-mail will come true. Whatever.

A little girl walked to and from school daily. Though the weather that morning was questionable and clouds were forming, she made her trek to the elementary school.

As the afternoon progressed, the winds whipped up with thunder and lightning. The mother of the little girl was concerned that her daughter would be frightened as she walked home from school. She herself feared that the electrical storm might harm her child. Following the roar of thunder, lightning like a flaming sword would cut through the sky.

Concerned, the mother quickly got into her car and drove along the route to her child's school. As she did so, she saw her little girl walking along. At each flash of lightning, the child would stop, look up, and smile. Another and another were to follow quickly and with each one the little girl would look at the streak of light and smile.

When the mother's car drew up beside the child, she lowered the window and called to her, "What are you doing? Why do you keep stopping?" The child answered, "I am trying to look pretty. God keeps taking my picture."

I know it's cheesy, but it made me laugh. And I could really use all the laughter I can get right now.

Happy Friday

You know something? Being without a mobile phone is really a liberation. I know that sounds just plain silly because no one needs a phone strapped to any part of their body in order that the world be able to contact them at any moment. But in the four years that I've continually used a mobile phone, it has become one of the things I check for when I leave the house. Wallet, keys, phone. If I leave my umbrella at home, at least I have my wallet, keys, and phone. The other night, my phone suffered a catastrophic failure, and depending on my mood, it was drowned in the kitchen sink while doing the dishes, or it was run over by a bus on Market Street. Pick one. The phone's gone. Does it really matter? Maybe one day I'll admit it to myself. There he goes anthropomorphizing inanimate objects, again. But phones are quite animated nowadays, aren't they? Whatever. My point of this entry is to express the fact that no one knows where I am, no one knows how to reach me where I am, and it's kinda fun. I don't have to worry about getting calls that I don't want to hear. Then again, I could just turn the thing off and be done with it that way, too. I think it's the responsibility of checking messages or such like that. I mean, if the phone doesn't work, I can't check, right? One thing I miss is the clock. Since my occupation requires hours at the keyboard, wearing a watch is too restrictive and uncomfortable. So even though I have like a dozen different watches, I never wear them anymore, and their batteries died a long time ago. I relied on my phone to tell me the time, and not knowing the time is disconcerting, especially since I can't judge the time of day by the passing sun...and certainly not when it's raining. Oh, so why don't I just go buy a new phone? Ha ha, surely it isn't that easy. Though when it becomes that easy again, I know which one I want. Well, maybe I do. I would love this one, but do I really need Bluetooth and a camera? This one is totally cool and cute, but I can't tell how much it costs. Or will this one suffice?

Happy Friday!