The Boring Job

The thing about the seasonal job is this - it is boring. It is, no joke, the most boring job I have ever had. For those of you who've been in the service industry, picture a slow night. It's that night that drags on and on and on with only the merest trickle of customers. That is this job. That is every shift of this job. I thought things would be more exciting on Black Friday since I was in the store then. Nope.

Six hour shifts of standing around, being bored out of my skull, and occasionally talking with customers. On Black Friday, during a six hour shift, I talked selling points with twelve customers. Each conversation lasted five minutes or less. The rest of the time I was standing in the store aisle, trying not to look at my watch again.

I've already begun counting down my shifts. It's terrible. The sad thing is, it's not all that bad of a job, except for the brain-numbing tedium. *Sigh* Can't win for losing.

Closing Down the Bar

Last night I met up with a couple of friends I know from when I worked at the bar. One of them had her birthday yesterday, so we went out drinking. I was *this* close to not going because we were meeting at 10:00 p.m. and I'm a big wuss these days with teaching at 8:00 a.m. and all. But I thought about what Amanda would tell me to do and I did my hair, put on some makeup, and went out. It was a lot of fun.

We met at a bar I'd never been to before and it was crammed full of a young crowd. There were some cute guys and I tried not to avert my gaze as soon as I saw one looking my way. Gotta practice that whole eye contact thing, right? Well, let's just say I need more practice.

At around 11:30 we moved on to another bar which was a bit mellower. We immediately ran into a couple of other people we knew, which reminded me just how small this city can be. It was nice to goof off, good to catch up on some gossip, and I realized that this is what it's like to actually hang out with friends. One of the guys we ran into at the second bar called me a sex goddess, which was a change from my usual. He's a bit... well, let's just say I wouldn't touch him with a ten foot pole, but, you know, I don't mind a compliment.

On a side note, I have a new crush. I have a weakness for bartenders. It's the fault of two men in particular who I worked with at the bar - both, alas, married. Both guys are charming, good looking, and warm hearted and they left an impression. So, at the second bar last night when I spotted the good looking, late 20s bartender, I knew what was going to happen. Of course, he knew the birthday girl. Turns out, he also knows one of the other gals, J. - a gal who used to bartend at the bar I used to work at. She's a part owner of the place now, and the cute bartender walked over to us at one point to talk about his shift at their next week. Since I had just been talking to J. about how I ought to swing by the bar soon, this seems like perfect timing.

Then, for the first time since I was a waitress two years ago, I shut down a bar. That's the first time in a very, very long time that I've gotten home so late. I'm tired this morning, and just about ready to leave for a shift with the seasonal job, so I'm regretting the lack of sleep. It was worth it though. Very worth it. I guess I'm not ready to resign myself to old lady status quite yet.

Campfire

I'm not 100% happy with how this came out, but I'd say I'm about 90%

F*ing Thanksgiving Break

I'm waiting for my parents to pick me up to go camping. I'm regretting saying I'd go. Camping isn't my favorite thing to do, and especially not with my parents. I love them to death, but going camping with them is freakin' labor intensive. Mom always wants to cook elaborate meals over the damn campfire, we have to do dishes in a bucket, there's an open-air outhouse, and my parents like to drag me on long-ass hikes. Also, did I mention I just started my period? The only thing more fun than "rustic" facilities is having to use them while bleeding from the crotch.

I agreed to go because my brother's going and because I feel like I owe it to my parents (i.e. mom). I'm a dumbass. We're leaving tonight, getting back tomorrow and then I'm going over for Thanksgiving dinner Thursday. My seasonal gig sucked up my weekend, and I'm working next weekend, including Black Friday for the job too. So, here I was, all excited about Thanksgiving break and today I realized that my week-long break is actually one day, Wednesday. Otherwise, it's all taken up with family stuff and/or the temporary job. Did I mention I have a mountain of grading to catch up on? This break sucks balls.

The Truth About Students

I don't like to say much about students here, because that's just not cool. But, here's an exception. Often, as I float around the shared office at campus, I hear my colleagues talking about their students. Sadly, a lot of what's being said isn't complimentary. Our students, though college students, are still more teenagers than grown ups and it shows through in a variety of behaviors which are largely related to a "But what do you mean I fail the class if I don't do any of the work?" kind of way. It's the kind of thing that can wear on a person and there's often a lot of venting. I've had my own share of these students, too.

However, I try and avoid the bitch sessions because they don't solve anything and the more we dwell, well, the more we dwell. Now, I'm going to skip the long spiel about human behavior and the effect of said bitch sessions. Yes, we have students who, simply, don't belong in college. Yes, we have students who engage in all kinds of obnoxious behaviors. But, we have even more students who are non-issues and plenty who are pleasant surprises. Without further ado, here's my faith in humanity:

A while back, there was an incident in class where two students nearly got in fist fight. Fast forward to last week when they started a new project. I gave the class the option to work in groups and the two guys who almost fought each other teamed up as part of a group. Now, one of the two is having issues with the class. Issues like not showing up or doing the work. So, on the day of the group presentations, I wasn't exactly surprised when he was not in class. I was ready to give him a zero for the presentation grade, but because of the way I've structured my groups, it wasn't my decision, it was his group's. At the end of class, I talked to them and said they could choose between him getting a zero, half the group grade, or the full group grade and that I'd abide by their decision. After asking if this student could do something to replace the presentation, (no), they decided half credit.

Yesterday, the student was in class again. The guy he almost got in a fight with waved me over for a quiet word. "The reason he wasn't here was 'cause his mom was in the hospital. We decided we want to give him full credit." I looked to the other group member, who nodded. So, he'll get full credit for a presentation he wasn't present for, because that's what his group wants.

Sometimes, in the shared office, there's a lot of whinging about students. I rarely join in. Because, even though these students are still more teenagers than they are adults, most of them are people I'm glad to know.

First Fruits of My Labor

You want to know something that feel better about a rotten week? Getting a check in the mail from the new job.

F*ing Week/The Worst Few Days of This Year

Today at the gym I ran on the cross ramp twice as long, twice as many miles, as my usual. It was, by a good amount, the most cardio I've ever done in one go. I almost went farther, too.

This past week was, in short, hellish. It started out being busy, escalated to overwhelming, ramped up to miserable with an aftertaste of frustration.

I started the new job, with fairly skeletal training. The new job is a solo type gig, so I was all alone on my first real day, and will be alone for the duration. Little bits of panic and self doubt - am I doing it right? am I completely botching it?

The worst part was diving into my first weekend of work right after my thesis defense. The defense is supposed to be stressful. It's supposed to keep us on our toes. Fine.

The part I wasn't expecting was when a member of my committee, a person who I've got a few years of history with, a person I trusted, did their best to corner me with questions that missed the point of what I'd written, dismissed my answers to said questions, then, after seemingly reluctantly agreeing with the rest of my committee to "pass" my defense, told me right to my face, "I was disappointed." Disappointed with work which my committee, including this person, had said looked good. One of the points of contention was because of something I put in my thesis because another member of my committee told me to. But, whatever, it's all my fault and I'm a fuck up.

So, you know, what the fuck? After I got my "pass," everyone was waiting for me outside the room to congratulate me. They even thought I did a good job. My parents, who came to my defense to support me, gave me hugs. People asked, "Are you excited to be done?" Excited? Try traumatized. I smiled, didn't say much, and all but ran out of there. I was able to make it to my car before the tears started. I met my parents at their house and as soon as they hugged me inside, I broke down all the way.

These days there's not much that can totally wreck me like that, but being told I'm a disappointment by someone I've known since I was an undergrad, someone who I trusted to guide me, someone who did their best to nail me to the wall, not with the intention of holding me to a high standard, but with what I can only describe as a personal attack... Yeah, that'll do me.

In the past couple of months, there have been one or two things that have made me begin distance myself from this person (Amanda believes it has a lot to do with a third party's influence, "poisoning the well," she says, and though I agree with her - though that doesn't excuse it). With that, and especially with the events of my thesis defense, I've lost both trust and respect for this person. We used to have a relationship. I used to think well of this person. But I can't now. It was nothing short of a betrayal for political gain. I can't come back from that.

Next, for the sake of not appearing petty, and for the sake of being professional, I have to navigate writing a Thank You note to this person, to thank them for being part of my committee - even though I now fervently wish that had not been the case. Next comes a linguistic exercise in being genuine and diplomatic. For, as much as I might find satisfaction in writing something like, "Sorry for the inconvenience, I'll never ask your help on anything again," I can't.

So, today, after I finished my work for the new job which was an odd combination of stressful and boring, and which prevented me from having an actual weekend, (Friday/Saturday/Sunday schedule), I went to the gym and I ran on the machine longer and farther than I ever have before. For a little while, all the room in my brain was taken up by the movement of my body and Elton John on my mp3 player.

It felt really, really good.

A Handwriting Post/What Does the Smell of Oranges Remind You Of?

So, Becky's got this thing about a handwriting sample, so I'm playing along. I went to a writing workshop last night (life in the fast lane, to be sure) and the gal running it handed out sandwich bags with foods in them. I got oranges. The gal told us to free-write about whatever memory the smell prompted. My memory was I was tactful enough not to read it out loud when she asked who wanted to share.

I've also added a writing sample #2 with ugly, ugly cursive as well as some extra detritus.

I post it here for Becky, to show her that her handwriting is, in fact, quite lovely. Mine, by comparison, is like the scratch of an epileptic chicken. (Click on the pictures to make them big) This is what my long time friend & pen pal has to deal with.

Linky Links

I'm slacking on blogging 'cause I'm up to my eyeballs in life stuff like preparing to defend my thesis Thursday. So busy, and all at once.

Read a couple interesting things on the web today, though, and thought I'd pass them on.

First off, a very thoughtful, if saddening, post by RR about race and online dating.

Second, a theory about the purpose of kissing that I hadn't heard before. It's almost like a germ theory of dating.

Tomorrow I do my face-to-face training at a coffee shop with some dude I've never met or talked to (my supervisor is out of town, so he's filling in for her). It feels almost like a blind date. Yeesh. At least I know what he'll be wearing - one of the logo Tshirts - and which part of the shop he'll be in. It should be easy to find him. *Fingers crossed*

Hand Held Door

Part of me really likes this picture. I love the details of the door - the handprints, the weathered wood, and the flag. Part of me, though, isn't sure about the photo as a whole. It feels like the composition is off, and I don't know how to fix it.