(no subject)
Another lovely weekend, with swimming in more gloriously unchlorinated water, and having fun with friends.
Different friends, and I had to swim with clothes on, but it's all good.
spiritseeker even answered the question that I direly needed to ask him, without my having to actually ask the question. Yah, he's good like that. I'm rather glad I didn't accidentally dreamwalk into him and get put in a little box.
We beat Your Mom.
Well, my soccer team, Griffen Fire (no, I did not name us, but I absolutely love the name) beat the team named Your Mom. I arrived just after the game, because I thought I was playing at three, not two. Oops. I don't think I've told the story of how I'm currently playing soccer and Coyote isn't . . . but it's fairly uninteresting. I've only actually played one game so far, but I loved it. I didn't suck nearly as much as I thought I would. Of course, I have none of the fancy footwork that Coyote and other actual soccer players have, but my grand scheme of using my current large body to intimidate the opposition by running right at them as fast as I can does actually seem to occasionally frighten them into a sloppy pass. I made mistakes, but none of them were the ridiculously stupid type . . . no scoring goals for the other team or anything like that. I do want to lose my fear of objects coming at me at fast speeds, so I can head or chest balls instead of yelping and ducking away from them, but Coyote will help me practice that. Getting contacts will help, too.
Must make appointments with eye-people and people who can do that thing which scars up my fallopian tubes.
I was going to extract eggs first, so that other people who can't have babies could have cute little brown-eyed artistic babies, but after giving the matter a lot of thought, I'm fairly sure that I would not be able to handle all of the injections and hormones and poking and prodding parts of me which have never, ever been poked or prodded. Well, except by tampons, but that doesn't count.
I have to sign up for my healthcare plan and get this thing done, while I have a little of the money that I'll need. It's incredibly important.
Work is going really well, for the most part. Twit and I managed to have a few conversations on Friday that did not end with me laughing at her and her saying, "Bitch, please!" But my boss, with whom I get along really well, sent me an email that managed to push all of my "I suck at this and am failing and won't get hired or given more time here, at the end of my six months" buttons. It started with, "I asked you nicely not to use the instant messaging . . ." and proceeded to threaten to take me off the computer if I can't focus on my work.
Um. I've used iChat once. My first day on the computer, three weeks ago. I didn't actually talk to anybody and signed off after ten minutes. I don't use the internet for anything other than work-related things, much as I'm dying to . . . I've been addicted to the internet for 11 years, it's mighty tempting to sneak in a quick LJ post . . . but they asked me not to, so no.
I wrote her an email conveying my surprise and calmly asserting what I use my Mac for, which is (except for iTunes, perhaps) entirely work-related stuff. I poked my head into her office a few minutes later, asking to talk, and she said it was fine, she just wanted to make sure I wasn't playing idly with the computer when I should be working on comps.
I hope that her sternly-toned email was her snapping at me because someone just bitched at her and, unable to bitch back at that person, she turned to the most readily-available scapegoat. But still, it's very frustrating. I'm trying so hard, I'm so calm and quiet and hard-working at this job, and when I read that email the Contrary inside me screamed, "If all this effort is useless, why bother?" But I'm going to keep trying. Just five weeks or so until my first "hire me!" move is completed. And then the next will happen a month or two after that. And in my fourth or fifth month, I'll sit down with my boss and ask what I can do to be hired.
Because yeah, there's definitely a few down sides to this job. I don't think I'll be saying any time soon that it's the best job ever. Pay's kinda low, and the work itself can be frustrating . . . especially to my extremely organized self who isn't allowed to organize the messes on every server. But it's at the best company I've ever worked for, a company that has offices everywhere I've ever wanted to live. New York City, Seattle, Paris, Sydney, Hong Kong . . .
Yeah, I'm staying here. If it's at all possible. Somehow I'll get to be friends with these kinda dull, kinda mainstream cow orkers, and all will be well.
But for now, I am gonna eat breakfast, work on my costume for the Storybook Ball, and go bike to work. Ta-ta.
Different friends, and I had to swim with clothes on, but it's all good.
spiritseeker even answered the question that I direly needed to ask him, without my having to actually ask the question. Yah, he's good like that. I'm rather glad I didn't accidentally dreamwalk into him and get put in a little box.
We beat Your Mom.
Well, my soccer team, Griffen Fire (no, I did not name us, but I absolutely love the name) beat the team named Your Mom. I arrived just after the game, because I thought I was playing at three, not two. Oops. I don't think I've told the story of how I'm currently playing soccer and Coyote isn't . . . but it's fairly uninteresting. I've only actually played one game so far, but I loved it. I didn't suck nearly as much as I thought I would. Of course, I have none of the fancy footwork that Coyote and other actual soccer players have, but my grand scheme of using my current large body to intimidate the opposition by running right at them as fast as I can does actually seem to occasionally frighten them into a sloppy pass. I made mistakes, but none of them were the ridiculously stupid type . . . no scoring goals for the other team or anything like that. I do want to lose my fear of objects coming at me at fast speeds, so I can head or chest balls instead of yelping and ducking away from them, but Coyote will help me practice that. Getting contacts will help, too.
Must make appointments with eye-people and people who can do that thing which scars up my fallopian tubes.
I was going to extract eggs first, so that other people who can't have babies could have cute little brown-eyed artistic babies, but after giving the matter a lot of thought, I'm fairly sure that I would not be able to handle all of the injections and hormones and poking and prodding parts of me which have never, ever been poked or prodded. Well, except by tampons, but that doesn't count.
I have to sign up for my healthcare plan and get this thing done, while I have a little of the money that I'll need. It's incredibly important.
Work is going really well, for the most part. Twit and I managed to have a few conversations on Friday that did not end with me laughing at her and her saying, "Bitch, please!" But my boss, with whom I get along really well, sent me an email that managed to push all of my "I suck at this and am failing and won't get hired or given more time here, at the end of my six months" buttons. It started with, "I asked you nicely not to use the instant messaging . . ." and proceeded to threaten to take me off the computer if I can't focus on my work.
Um. I've used iChat once. My first day on the computer, three weeks ago. I didn't actually talk to anybody and signed off after ten minutes. I don't use the internet for anything other than work-related things, much as I'm dying to . . . I've been addicted to the internet for 11 years, it's mighty tempting to sneak in a quick LJ post . . . but they asked me not to, so no.
I wrote her an email conveying my surprise and calmly asserting what I use my Mac for, which is (except for iTunes, perhaps) entirely work-related stuff. I poked my head into her office a few minutes later, asking to talk, and she said it was fine, she just wanted to make sure I wasn't playing idly with the computer when I should be working on comps.
I hope that her sternly-toned email was her snapping at me because someone just bitched at her and, unable to bitch back at that person, she turned to the most readily-available scapegoat. But still, it's very frustrating. I'm trying so hard, I'm so calm and quiet and hard-working at this job, and when I read that email the Contrary inside me screamed, "If all this effort is useless, why bother?" But I'm going to keep trying. Just five weeks or so until my first "hire me!" move is completed. And then the next will happen a month or two after that. And in my fourth or fifth month, I'll sit down with my boss and ask what I can do to be hired.
Because yeah, there's definitely a few down sides to this job. I don't think I'll be saying any time soon that it's the best job ever. Pay's kinda low, and the work itself can be frustrating . . . especially to my extremely organized self who isn't allowed to organize the messes on every server. But it's at the best company I've ever worked for, a company that has offices everywhere I've ever wanted to live. New York City, Seattle, Paris, Sydney, Hong Kong . . .
Yeah, I'm staying here. If it's at all possible. Somehow I'll get to be friends with these kinda dull, kinda mainstream cow orkers, and all will be well.
But for now, I am gonna eat breakfast, work on my costume for the Storybook Ball, and go bike to work. Ta-ta.