Friday, June 18, 2004
Modern Relationships
Ever since my hissy with SBCGlobal, I've been 'disconnected'. I haven't been what I will call "meeting new friends" on-line. Not that I did a lot of that before -- but it was an option. For example, I had a chatroom up whenever I was neurotically editing a blog post. My blog posts have dropped off; so has my neurotic editing.
ha ha
For better or worse, one thing about BIPC has been its emphasis on creating a "casual environment" for happy employees. What that means for some is they can wear the same sweatpants and flip-flops to work all week long. It means you can hear the constant symphonic sounds of personal cell phones and half-conversations regarding the right medications for teenagers. At least one day a week now seems to be Bring Your Child To Work Day -- and who doesn't love those little unattended Angels running around and grabbing things off your desk? (Note to self: Get more scissors.)
For the person in the next cube over, it means she can stay caught up with her favorite soap opera Right Here At Work, and because she sits next to me, I stay up with them, too!
Some folks have tiny round mirrors attached to the side of their p.c. so they can tell when anyone is behind them and can switch to a "work-related" screen. I don't. If I'm blogging here it's because I've put in my 8, 9, 10 hours.
Now that my one neighbor has switched off her TV and the other has left to personally administer her child's drugs, I can sit down and glob out an entry in quiet. Unedited -- or less edited than in the past -- but so be it.
Is it sad that I'm here on a Friday Night blogging? I don't think so. I paid some bills, reserved my vacation rental car, and researched a new word I learned today: Metafiction.
Tonight, I am left thinking about some of my ongoing relationships with others. I realized as I was finalizing my vacation plans how much of that time will be spent with exes.
In a week, I will be in Boston. After spending some time with my dear, close friend Madonna "Esther" Richie, I'll be hanging out with one ex-boyfriend and his new boyfriend: We will be traveling up the Cape to Provincetown. Then, in early July it's out to Colorado, where I'll stay with another ex.
There's been some flirty stuff lately, but I have been cold to it. Like that lame-brain from the opera, it seems too stupid. I look forward to seeing my exes. I could do much worse than count them as pretty good friends.
ha ha
For better or worse, one thing about BIPC has been its emphasis on creating a "casual environment" for happy employees. What that means for some is they can wear the same sweatpants and flip-flops to work all week long. It means you can hear the constant symphonic sounds of personal cell phones and half-conversations regarding the right medications for teenagers. At least one day a week now seems to be Bring Your Child To Work Day -- and who doesn't love those little unattended Angels running around and grabbing things off your desk? (Note to self: Get more scissors.)
For the person in the next cube over, it means she can stay caught up with her favorite soap opera Right Here At Work, and because she sits next to me, I stay up with them, too!
- He: I never meant to hurt you, Tiffany!
She: Let's see what Daddy now has to say about the minority interest in Hathway Aerospace!
(grunting noise) Aaahhh!
Person in next cube over: This is so unrealistic.
Some folks have tiny round mirrors attached to the side of their p.c. so they can tell when anyone is behind them and can switch to a "work-related" screen. I don't. If I'm blogging here it's because I've put in my 8, 9, 10 hours.
Now that my one neighbor has switched off her TV and the other has left to personally administer her child's drugs, I can sit down and glob out an entry in quiet. Unedited -- or less edited than in the past -- but so be it.
Is it sad that I'm here on a Friday Night blogging? I don't think so. I paid some bills, reserved my vacation rental car, and researched a new word I learned today: Metafiction.
Tonight, I am left thinking about some of my ongoing relationships with others. I realized as I was finalizing my vacation plans how much of that time will be spent with exes.
In a week, I will be in Boston. After spending some time with my dear, close friend Madonna "Esther" Richie, I'll be hanging out with one ex-boyfriend and his new boyfriend: We will be traveling up the Cape to Provincetown. Then, in early July it's out to Colorado, where I'll stay with another ex.
There's been some flirty stuff lately, but I have been cold to it. Like that lame-brain from the opera, it seems too stupid. I look forward to seeing my exes. I could do much worse than count them as pretty good friends.
- Ex #1: Mr. Hermit, how long have we known each other? Eighteen years? EEEeeesh. It's just like that Monkees song, That Was Then, This Is Now. ah haa haa haa ha!
Ex #2: Good! When you're here, you can help me fill out my Wrongful Discharge forms.
Thursday, June 17, 2004
Ethical Dilemma
Sometimes I daydream about what I would do if I could do anything. I'd be a writer, I think. I'd work in the movies or in television. Hugshyhermit would churn scripts out for campy shows like Charmed or daytime soaps while separately publishing, under an assumed name, unknown but praised (of course!) screenplays or fiction.
But I have no experience or background and I'm not friends with Brad, Ben or Matt. What to do?
I know! Create a fake resume, with a list of impressive-sounding experience and awards. I found Antioch's B.F.A. program disappointing in its ignorance of *Native American* writers, but my thesis of short stories revolving around the Trail of Tears was optioned by White Wolf Productions.
And: Why, yes... I *did* win the Greater Miami Valley Young Writers' Award.
That's another thing -- my age. I would shave a few years -- hell, a decade! -- off my birthday. I started writing late, I'd say. I spent most of my twenties bumming around the world and living on the streets.
Why not?
*Sigh*
Oh well. Back to drafting what is being called a Data Assessment Approach -- I bet soon to be shortened to a catchy acronym. DatASAP? Dat Ass. Talk about creative writing!
But I have no experience or background and I'm not friends with Brad, Ben or Matt. What to do?
I know! Create a fake resume, with a list of impressive-sounding experience and awards. I found Antioch's B.F.A. program disappointing in its ignorance of *Native American* writers, but my thesis of short stories revolving around the Trail of Tears was optioned by White Wolf Productions.
And: Why, yes... I *did* win the Greater Miami Valley Young Writers' Award.
That's another thing -- my age. I would shave a few years -- hell, a decade! -- off my birthday. I started writing late, I'd say. I spent most of my twenties bumming around the world and living on the streets.
Why not?
*Sigh*
Oh well. Back to drafting what is being called a Data Assessment Approach -- I bet soon to be shortened to a catchy acronym. DatASAP? Dat Ass. Talk about creative writing!