Dispatches from the Field
(locked because, oh look, here I am on the Friday of my first week on the job, posting to LJ from work--still paranoid about violating Internet policy, but, obviously, not that paranoid...)
I keep meaning to update--I keep thinking to myself "that would be a great LJ post!"--and then either I'm at work, or I'm at home struggling to stay awake, barely able to string a sentence together. A few observations in no particular order:
1. Pretty much all of my job deals with interoffice mail routing, and the interoffice mail routing gets the song "Pop Muzik" stuck in my head. You know the one. New York, London, Paris, Munich...
If there were only bits about Caracas and, oddly, three cities in Colorado, I could do the morning mail pouches without consulting the list.
2. This morning I got to sleep until seven! And my brain devoted the extra hour to a dream about David Hewlett. We were standing around outside somewhere--I think it was a parking lot--and I was telling him about my romantic history, or lack thereof. When I got done explaining the absence of guys in my life, he asked me very earnestly and sympathetically, whether I was sure I didn't like women, and I rolled my eyes and said no, no, it's not that I'm not interested: I'm just inept. After that he had somewhere to go, but he wanted to hang out again sometime, so I leaned in the passenger door of his car (a compact, filled with junk and trash) while he dug around for a piece of paper to write his cell number on. He fished out an unflattering picture of himself, taken years before, and showed it to me before finally coming up with a pen and writing down a number in the 805 area code. I was duly excited to have David Hewlett's cell phone number--we were going to hang out again sometime!--although I reminded myself not to be yokelishly excited about meeting him: it's where he lives, after all.
Make of that what you will. I've got nothing.
3. I persist in wearing high heels. I don't know why. They hurt and I think they're making me stupider, as witness the "Getting the Date of Spring Break Wrong When Requesting Leave from Work and Also When Buying Plane Tickets and Not Noticing Until Yesterday When textualchauvini Told Me, No, Break Doesn't Start on the 27th" fiasco. Happily, I've emerged from that one mostly unscathed.
4. Spring Break is suddenly a week closer than I thought it was!
5. I'm reading Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell, and am a bit put off by the way I don't like any of the characters. But I haven't really met Jonathan yet, so I'm holding out hope. If you've read it and you already know that Jonathan is exactly as prickly and irritating as the rest of the characters, please don't tell me. I enjoy my illusions.
6. Note to self: Never wear these panties to work again. Ever. Gah.
I keep meaning to update--I keep thinking to myself "that would be a great LJ post!"--and then either I'm at work, or I'm at home struggling to stay awake, barely able to string a sentence together. A few observations in no particular order:
1. Pretty much all of my job deals with interoffice mail routing, and the interoffice mail routing gets the song "Pop Muzik" stuck in my head. You know the one. New York, London, Paris, Munich...
If there were only bits about Caracas and, oddly, three cities in Colorado, I could do the morning mail pouches without consulting the list.
2. This morning I got to sleep until seven! And my brain devoted the extra hour to a dream about David Hewlett. We were standing around outside somewhere--I think it was a parking lot--and I was telling him about my romantic history, or lack thereof. When I got done explaining the absence of guys in my life, he asked me very earnestly and sympathetically, whether I was sure I didn't like women, and I rolled my eyes and said no, no, it's not that I'm not interested: I'm just inept. After that he had somewhere to go, but he wanted to hang out again sometime, so I leaned in the passenger door of his car (a compact, filled with junk and trash) while he dug around for a piece of paper to write his cell number on. He fished out an unflattering picture of himself, taken years before, and showed it to me before finally coming up with a pen and writing down a number in the 805 area code. I was duly excited to have David Hewlett's cell phone number--we were going to hang out again sometime!--although I reminded myself not to be yokelishly excited about meeting him: it's where he lives, after all.
Make of that what you will. I've got nothing.
3. I persist in wearing high heels. I don't know why. They hurt and I think they're making me stupider, as witness the "Getting the Date of Spring Break Wrong When Requesting Leave from Work and Also When Buying Plane Tickets and Not Noticing Until Yesterday When textualchauvini Told Me, No, Break Doesn't Start on the 27th" fiasco. Happily, I've emerged from that one mostly unscathed.
4. Spring Break is suddenly a week closer than I thought it was!
5. I'm reading Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell, and am a bit put off by the way I don't like any of the characters. But I haven't really met Jonathan yet, so I'm holding out hope. If you've read it and you already know that Jonathan is exactly as prickly and irritating as the rest of the characters, please don't tell me. I enjoy my illusions.
6. Note to self: Never wear these panties to work again. Ever. Gah.