1. I keep starting posts and then not finishing them, because bed or a hockey game or something is calling.
2. No, the proposal isn't done yet, and I'm exhausted today--bed didn't call early enough last night.
3. I'm quite glad about who got eliminated on Top Chef this week; the person who annoyed the shit out of me the most of the remaining contenders. It was also interesting because of the cheftestants who were eligible to be booted, i.e., arguably three of the best chefs on the show. Remind me to tell you why the person annoyed me, if you care.
4. Going on a three-day walk is not, in fact, "speaking out against breast cancer in the boldest way possible." Or, well, I suppose it might be, but you know what? Breast cancer does not give a fuck. Really. All of your "speaking out" won't do shit.
5. Also? Your life does not, in fact, have any meaning, and going on a three-day walk is not going to change that.
6. W/r/t the last post, I realized, based in part on your collective response, that my self-applied "loser" label has more to do with how I have lived up to my own expectations, rather than how well I have lived up to any external demands or expectations. I also recognize that at least some of the piles of crap that prevented me from getting to do some things were simply unavoidable--shit does, in fact, happen.
7. Did I mention exhausted? With a wad of writing to do today.
8. Made the cookies again (rosemary/cherry/lemon) and Was Pleased with them. They're cakey, rather than crispy, but I'm okay with that. Otherwise, little to report on the food front; I've had popcorn for dinner a couple of times this week, which tells you all you need to know.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Friday, January 23, 2009
Why was Aretha wearing that hat?
Because she IS Aretha, and, yes, she can wear any damn hat she wants. I also appreciated the subtext of shout-out to Marion Anderson.
As I noted elsewhere in Blogistan, I was watching Tuesday's ceremony in our conference room, on ABC, because that's the channel our TV-plus-rabbit-ears received the best. (We do not have cable at work, apparently, so we rigged this up so people could watch.) One of theblatherers commentators said, on seeing Nancy Pelosi and Senator Feinstein and the President-elect come on to the porch, that we would not have seen that tableau a hundred years ago. I blurted, because I could not help myself, that we would not have seen that tableau FIFTY years ago. There was general agreement about what I said, but the fact that the commentator was so ahistorical still kind of amazes me. Seriously: how can you claim to be a journalist and say something that fucking stupid?
Tuesday was also my first exposure to Rick Warren, and what a tool. At least I got a shout-out in Obama's speech. Incidentally, w/r/t the former, a number of my non-atheist friends were completely offended by Warren's recitation of the so-called lord's prayer (including my boss the ex-priest). It took me awhile to figure that one out, because, on some level, to me a prayer is a prayer is a prayer, and I find pretty much all public prayer offensive, particularly at sporting events and official government functions. (If you want to pray at any time, please feel free--I will even, you may remember, make space for said activity at my own (possibly) damned dinner table; but invocations of a deity at sporting and government assemblies are an enforced religious observance that annoys the fuck out of me.) However, I have learned that that particular prayer is profoundly christian, and, thus, at least potentially offensive to anyone who isn't christian but is religious in some way. Apparently there's a dispute within christianity, as well, as to whether one is supposed to have one's debts or one's trespasses forgiven; ah, sectarian disputes.
I believe we have "godless communism" to blame for much of this. I know you can find piety and references to deities all throughout U.S. history, but the upheavals of the beginning of the last century ratcheted everything up a notch. Communism, socialism, and anarchism, and, with all of them, atheism: many Powers regarded them as pure evil, and anything that could be associated with any of them, and anyone who didn't sufficiently despise all of those isms and anything associated with them, could be denounced freely. Same with labor unions, in part because the early labor movements were related, philosophically and sometimes politically, with the isms; all of them had as their goal a kind of liberation and justice for the common person.
Marx's historical analyses may well have been mistaken--that is, though the workers of the world may well unite at some point, I don't foresee that OR the withering of the state occurring any time soon. In addition, the attempts to create marxist-influenced society in eastern Europe/Russia and China were wrong in practice and possibly in theory as well (I do not claim to be any kind of expert on marxism/leninism). Nevertheless, Marx's analyses of capitalism and the oppression of the workers that results from it have much to recommend them. Some teacher along the way pointed out that Smith's and Marx's analyses of industrialism weren't all that different; rather, Smith is less disturbed by the oppression of the working classes that is a necessary facet of capitalism. If that's true, it is thus hardly surprising that the monied powers that be regarded any of the spawn of Marx's analyses as a danger. (Stalin and his evil ilk basically played into the hands of the anti-communist and anti-socialist forces by providing reasons for condemnation--reasons that had nothing to do with the message of liberation and justice that is at the heart of the marxist analysis. Whatever else Stalin was about, he was not about justice or liberation.)
On a completely unrelated note, it's been kind of strange to see Caroline Kennedy in the news of late. She's very close in age to me, and she was most frequently in photographs in women's magazines, either the ones my mom got or the ones I was reading for my dissertation, in the 1970s or so, i.e., when she was quite a bit younger than she is now. The current photographs show a middle-aged woman, which is a very striking reminder that that's what I, too, look like these days (and, let's face it, I don't have a stylist of any kind). Somehow, in my head, I'm still somewhere around 35. I'm trying to figure out how to revise that.
Some of it I know has changed: the other two women that my boss manages are in their mid-to-late 30s, and they're just in a different place than my boss and I are. I can definitely enter the rant zone, I can definitely go off on a tear, but the past five years seem to have made a major change in me. I don't feel as though I've finally reached some end spot, but I also sense that I don't get wrapped around the axle in quite the same way any more. I can't explain it very well, especially because most of you either don't know me IRL or haven't known me all that long, and I know that even to people who know me well IRL it may not be obvious, because, really, I am still capable of ranting like nobody's business.
But it just doesn't matter.
I guess part of it is that I've stopped believing that I'm ever going to do anything that matters or lasts, and I've stopped believing that I'm going to get to do any of the things I've dreamed of doing. Every one of my plans has, after a certain amount of effort and expense and time on my part, gone to shit. I'm doing basically the same work I was doing in 1986 when I left the east coast for graduate school in the city in which I still live. Yes, I have done some fun things--and paid dearly for them, in several senses of "paid," as well as met some wonderful people--so I don't want to sound too poor-pitiful-me, because that's not where I'm going with this. I've also foregone a number of things that might also have been fun--having kids, for example, which was something that I wanted to do only if I had (a) a partner (b) who also wanted to have kids. Having a kid by myself while I was in grad school, for example, or immediately afterwards, when I was deeply in debt and unemployed, seemed like a very bad idea.
So, given that, what am I going to do? Sit around and feel depressed and sorry for myself because I'm a loser? Yeah, okay, whatever; that doesn't sound like very much fun to me, so, no, thanks, I'll skip that. I've experienced depression several times in my life, and I have to say that I found it profoundly boring. I can expound on that if anyone cares, but I really did find it boring.
Okay, so no job I really want; no well-paid sinecure; no kids; no meaningful and fun work (though I do like my coworkers and my current job). I can either be happy with what I have--which is nice, relatively speaking--or I can be perpetually dissatisfied and depressed and crabby. Eh; the latter sounds like too much work. I'd still like to write a book, and I'd still like to start doing needlepoint again, but I don't know whether I'll manage either of those things. I'd like to live in a nicer space at some point, but the thought of moving makes me cringe, and I really don't want to pay all that much more for an apartment.
Whatever. I've resigned myself to being a loser. As noted, it just doesn't matter, so this doesn't disturb me nearly as much as it might have when I was younger.
One final note before bed: I constantly threaten my boss that he's going to be in trouble when I win the lottery. When things get really crazy, I inform him that I'm going to drain my savings account to play. Today he informed me that I'm never going to win, that he has called in all karmic debts to ensure that it doesn't happen. Which cracks me up--the thought that he's praying that I NOT win just amuses me to no end (though I don't know that he prays or even believes in a deity, per se, any longer).
As I noted elsewhere in Blogistan, I was watching Tuesday's ceremony in our conference room, on ABC, because that's the channel our TV-plus-rabbit-ears received the best. (We do not have cable at work, apparently, so we rigged this up so people could watch.) One of the
Tuesday was also my first exposure to Rick Warren, and what a tool. At least I got a shout-out in Obama's speech. Incidentally, w/r/t the former, a number of my non-atheist friends were completely offended by Warren's recitation of the so-called lord's prayer (including my boss the ex-priest). It took me awhile to figure that one out, because, on some level, to me a prayer is a prayer is a prayer, and I find pretty much all public prayer offensive, particularly at sporting events and official government functions. (If you want to pray at any time, please feel free--I will even, you may remember, make space for said activity at my own (possibly) damned dinner table; but invocations of a deity at sporting and government assemblies are an enforced religious observance that annoys the fuck out of me.) However, I have learned that that particular prayer is profoundly christian, and, thus, at least potentially offensive to anyone who isn't christian but is religious in some way. Apparently there's a dispute within christianity, as well, as to whether one is supposed to have one's debts or one's trespasses forgiven; ah, sectarian disputes.
I believe we have "godless communism" to blame for much of this. I know you can find piety and references to deities all throughout U.S. history, but the upheavals of the beginning of the last century ratcheted everything up a notch. Communism, socialism, and anarchism, and, with all of them, atheism: many Powers regarded them as pure evil, and anything that could be associated with any of them, and anyone who didn't sufficiently despise all of those isms and anything associated with them, could be denounced freely. Same with labor unions, in part because the early labor movements were related, philosophically and sometimes politically, with the isms; all of them had as their goal a kind of liberation and justice for the common person.
Marx's historical analyses may well have been mistaken--that is, though the workers of the world may well unite at some point, I don't foresee that OR the withering of the state occurring any time soon. In addition, the attempts to create marxist-influenced society in eastern Europe/Russia and China were wrong in practice and possibly in theory as well (I do not claim to be any kind of expert on marxism/leninism). Nevertheless, Marx's analyses of capitalism and the oppression of the workers that results from it have much to recommend them. Some teacher along the way pointed out that Smith's and Marx's analyses of industrialism weren't all that different; rather, Smith is less disturbed by the oppression of the working classes that is a necessary facet of capitalism. If that's true, it is thus hardly surprising that the monied powers that be regarded any of the spawn of Marx's analyses as a danger. (Stalin and his evil ilk basically played into the hands of the anti-communist and anti-socialist forces by providing reasons for condemnation--reasons that had nothing to do with the message of liberation and justice that is at the heart of the marxist analysis. Whatever else Stalin was about, he was not about justice or liberation.)
On a completely unrelated note, it's been kind of strange to see Caroline Kennedy in the news of late. She's very close in age to me, and she was most frequently in photographs in women's magazines, either the ones my mom got or the ones I was reading for my dissertation, in the 1970s or so, i.e., when she was quite a bit younger than she is now. The current photographs show a middle-aged woman, which is a very striking reminder that that's what I, too, look like these days (and, let's face it, I don't have a stylist of any kind). Somehow, in my head, I'm still somewhere around 35. I'm trying to figure out how to revise that.
Some of it I know has changed: the other two women that my boss manages are in their mid-to-late 30s, and they're just in a different place than my boss and I are. I can definitely enter the rant zone, I can definitely go off on a tear, but the past five years seem to have made a major change in me. I don't feel as though I've finally reached some end spot, but I also sense that I don't get wrapped around the axle in quite the same way any more. I can't explain it very well, especially because most of you either don't know me IRL or haven't known me all that long, and I know that even to people who know me well IRL it may not be obvious, because, really, I am still capable of ranting like nobody's business.
But it just doesn't matter.
I guess part of it is that I've stopped believing that I'm ever going to do anything that matters or lasts, and I've stopped believing that I'm going to get to do any of the things I've dreamed of doing. Every one of my plans has, after a certain amount of effort and expense and time on my part, gone to shit. I'm doing basically the same work I was doing in 1986 when I left the east coast for graduate school in the city in which I still live. Yes, I have done some fun things--and paid dearly for them, in several senses of "paid," as well as met some wonderful people--so I don't want to sound too poor-pitiful-me, because that's not where I'm going with this. I've also foregone a number of things that might also have been fun--having kids, for example, which was something that I wanted to do only if I had (a) a partner (b) who also wanted to have kids. Having a kid by myself while I was in grad school, for example, or immediately afterwards, when I was deeply in debt and unemployed, seemed like a very bad idea.
So, given that, what am I going to do? Sit around and feel depressed and sorry for myself because I'm a loser? Yeah, okay, whatever; that doesn't sound like very much fun to me, so, no, thanks, I'll skip that. I've experienced depression several times in my life, and I have to say that I found it profoundly boring. I can expound on that if anyone cares, but I really did find it boring.
Okay, so no job I really want; no well-paid sinecure; no kids; no meaningful and fun work (though I do like my coworkers and my current job). I can either be happy with what I have--which is nice, relatively speaking--or I can be perpetually dissatisfied and depressed and crabby. Eh; the latter sounds like too much work. I'd still like to write a book, and I'd still like to start doing needlepoint again, but I don't know whether I'll manage either of those things. I'd like to live in a nicer space at some point, but the thought of moving makes me cringe, and I really don't want to pay all that much more for an apartment.
Whatever. I've resigned myself to being a loser. As noted, it just doesn't matter, so this doesn't disturb me nearly as much as it might have when I was younger.
One final note before bed: I constantly threaten my boss that he's going to be in trouble when I win the lottery. When things get really crazy, I inform him that I'm going to drain my savings account to play. Today he informed me that I'm never going to win, that he has called in all karmic debts to ensure that it doesn't happen. Which cracks me up--the thought that he's praying that I NOT win just amuses me to no end (though I don't know that he prays or even believes in a deity, per se, any longer).
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Of Magic and Polar Bears
Okay, the Hairbozo on WNTW is cutting off all of someone's hair again. What a fucking surprise. She had hair nearly all the way down her back, and it was definitely in need of a good trim, but Mr. Whackhappy chopped it all off, to above her shoulders, and gave her bangs. What he basically does is create the need for constant hair fussing. Bangs need to be trimmed, or you're constantly pinning them back awkwardly, hacking at them yourself, or just moving the outgrown bits out of your face. (If your hair is wavy, you may even get the Bozo effect.) I thought she had gorgeous long hair, and a good trim and some styling advice--how to pin it up; how to do some interesting braiding--would've been preferable, not least because I don't much like the short haircut; it makes her look like every other person whose hair he styles.
Yes, I know, I need to get out more, perhaps.
Not this weekend, though. I'm going to tie myself to the computer and edit away, plus do some chores. And play some solitaire.
I particularly like Forty Thieves, and I have a version of the game that enables me to go back, to the beginning of a particular game or just a series of moves, and replay, as many times as I want. Apparently (because i am so lame I looked it up), a winning percentage of about 10% is common, with "good" players able to win upwards of 20%. My winning percentage is around 28% (okay, 27.6%). I tell you this not to prove my lameosity, of which you should be well-convinced by now. I've been playing it regularly (okay, sometimes obsessively) for maybe four or five years, and I will often replay a given hand multiple times. Other hands I win or bail on pretty quickly. I have a few basic principles--when to move cards and when to let them be; what cards to use to fill gaps in the board--but I don't have a lot of rules about using them and I don't count cards. (I try to keep track of deuces and threes and fours, which is 24 cards, but I'm not obsessive about it, especially not the first time through a hand.)
The interesting cases--to me, anyway--are the games that appear unwinnable for some reason and that I don't win within a try or two, but that I have some . . . "sense" can be won. Way more often than not, I'm right, even if it takes me awhile to actually win a given game. I had one yesterday, and I kept fussing with it, trying to figure out which kink was responsible getting stuck, in addition to the fact that two deuces of one suit were buried at the beginning of the hand, but, eventually, win it I did.
What's interesting to me is that sense that a given game can be won, and how often I'm right about that. (And it's not as though I replay every game; I bail pretty often.) I'm sure there are mathematical formulae about the whole thing, but I sure as hell don't know what they are. It seems that some part of my brain can do the calculations, however--or, at least, can reach the right conclusion--and I marvel at that a little bit. There's a kind of calculation going on there, an assessment of some kind, as though my brain can see the moves that need to happen, even if it takes me awhile to get to them, and it's clear that it's a product, in part, of playing a lot, along with some ability at pattern-matching, at least some of which is happening on a subconscious level.
And that's why I'm not just an atheist; I also eschew the magical new age crap. That is, I firmly believe that there's a lot of information available at any given time, but that we can only make sense--or make patterns that make sense--of some percentage of it. We have to learn to edit out the bits that don't fit or that are just (literally or figuratively) noise. Some conditions (autism-spectrum disorders, perhaps?) and drugs affect the editing functions, in ways that can be enjoyable, or scary, or overwhelming.
The point is, the information we're editing out is still there; it didn't go away, even if we don't have (conscious) access to it. Is it possible to develop mechanisms or techniques to apprehend more of the information consciously? Yeah, probably, and I'd also argue that what we call "intelligence" has something to do with the ability to manage large amounts of complex information quickly. But there are certainly limits, not the least of which are the fact that we communicate with each other. (Side question: if you take a non-human primate of a particular species to a new colony of that species, can the animal communicate? That is, do all chimpanzees speak "chimpanzee"? Are there local dialects? How are they communicated?) Thus, while I am occasionally surprised by the accuracy of information I wasn't aware of having consciously, I'm not surprised that it exists and that I can tap into it. It's not magic or spiritual.
I'd really like to tie this to Fred's post about gerbils and polar bears, but I really must edit, so I'll leave you to go read the post yourself.
Yes, I know, I need to get out more, perhaps.
Not this weekend, though. I'm going to tie myself to the computer and edit away, plus do some chores. And play some solitaire.
I particularly like Forty Thieves, and I have a version of the game that enables me to go back, to the beginning of a particular game or just a series of moves, and replay, as many times as I want. Apparently (because i am so lame I looked it up), a winning percentage of about 10% is common, with "good" players able to win upwards of 20%. My winning percentage is around 28% (okay, 27.6%). I tell you this not to prove my lameosity, of which you should be well-convinced by now. I've been playing it regularly (okay, sometimes obsessively) for maybe four or five years, and I will often replay a given hand multiple times. Other hands I win or bail on pretty quickly. I have a few basic principles--when to move cards and when to let them be; what cards to use to fill gaps in the board--but I don't have a lot of rules about using them and I don't count cards. (I try to keep track of deuces and threes and fours, which is 24 cards, but I'm not obsessive about it, especially not the first time through a hand.)
The interesting cases--to me, anyway--are the games that appear unwinnable for some reason and that I don't win within a try or two, but that I have some . . . "sense" can be won. Way more often than not, I'm right, even if it takes me awhile to actually win a given game. I had one yesterday, and I kept fussing with it, trying to figure out which kink was responsible getting stuck, in addition to the fact that two deuces of one suit were buried at the beginning of the hand, but, eventually, win it I did.
What's interesting to me is that sense that a given game can be won, and how often I'm right about that. (And it's not as though I replay every game; I bail pretty often.) I'm sure there are mathematical formulae about the whole thing, but I sure as hell don't know what they are. It seems that some part of my brain can do the calculations, however--or, at least, can reach the right conclusion--and I marvel at that a little bit. There's a kind of calculation going on there, an assessment of some kind, as though my brain can see the moves that need to happen, even if it takes me awhile to get to them, and it's clear that it's a product, in part, of playing a lot, along with some ability at pattern-matching, at least some of which is happening on a subconscious level.
And that's why I'm not just an atheist; I also eschew the magical new age crap. That is, I firmly believe that there's a lot of information available at any given time, but that we can only make sense--or make patterns that make sense--of some percentage of it. We have to learn to edit out the bits that don't fit or that are just (literally or figuratively) noise. Some conditions (autism-spectrum disorders, perhaps?) and drugs affect the editing functions, in ways that can be enjoyable, or scary, or overwhelming.
The point is, the information we're editing out is still there; it didn't go away, even if we don't have (conscious) access to it. Is it possible to develop mechanisms or techniques to apprehend more of the information consciously? Yeah, probably, and I'd also argue that what we call "intelligence" has something to do with the ability to manage large amounts of complex information quickly. But there are certainly limits, not the least of which are the fact that we communicate with each other. (Side question: if you take a non-human primate of a particular species to a new colony of that species, can the animal communicate? That is, do all chimpanzees speak "chimpanzee"? Are there local dialects? How are they communicated?) Thus, while I am occasionally surprised by the accuracy of information I wasn't aware of having consciously, I'm not surprised that it exists and that I can tap into it. It's not magic or spiritual.
I'd really like to tie this to Fred's post about gerbils and polar bears, but I really must edit, so I'll leave you to go read the post yourself.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
More Nothing
Yes, it is cold in these here parts. Very cold, as a matter of fact. Squeaky cold. Bitter cold. Killingly cold. (Thus, the manager of our program for homeless people was very excited to have spent two hours out in the cold this morning, as she was able to get someone to go into detox/shelter.) Among the many things I have come to hate about the cold weather is that even those of us who are not, as we say, experiencing homelessness, end up wearing half of our closets on our backs anyway. One must thus have all of one's things for the day gathered in one place and ready to go, because one (a) cannot move much once all of the clothing is on, and (b) will get overheated if one runs around inside with all of those layers upon one's body. Whatever. I have sufficiently warm clothing and a sufficiently short commute that it's not that big a deal for me.
Work continues to cram upon me, but I keep slogging away. One thing due tomorrow got submitted today, successfully (I wanted to submit a day early in case there were glitches), which eased my mind a bit; the next part of that submission, due February 6, is a bigger deal with more and bigger pieces, and I have multiple things to do before that happens--things in addition to actually writing the damned proposal, I mean--but I continue to eat the elephant.
Today's idiocy: My bank has a "points" program, up for which I signed. It already has resulted in free money for me, in the form of a $50 Starbucks card (I had my choice of retailers and goods, and selected that particular thing), and, given that I don't pay for my banking, it really is free money. Occasionally they try to get me to sign up for this or that thing to get more points, some of which I'll do, and others of which I won't. One such promotion involved signing up to automatically transfer money from my checking account to my savings account; okay, no big deal. I signed up to automatically transfer $25/month for six months, starting January 15.
Except the bozo who completed this transaction signed me up for $250 a month to be transferred. Luckily, I was looking for the first $25 transfer today and didn't see it. I called a different branch--the branch I prefer--and asked someone about it. You can imagine my dismay when he mentioned a $250 transfer, instead of the $25 I was expecting. We straightened it out, over two phone calls, and nothing bounced, but I was quite peeved. Dipshit.
I moved my banking, such as it is, to this bank about 8 years ago, primarily because it was a small, locally owned bank. A few years ago it was bought by another bank in the region. Okay, not that big a deal. About 18 months ago, it was bought again, by a bigger bank. And a couple of months ago, it was bought yet again. I am still using checks with the name of the second bank on them, which should tell you how quickly this is moving. I find it tiresome, at best, and wish there were a good local alternative. By "good" I mean: free checking account; multiple no-fee ATMs in locations that are convenient to me; no stupidly outrageous fees for overdrafts and the like (I don't normally bounce checks, but I am offended by the exorbitant fees banks charge for that shit, and the predatory way they structure the charges, such that the largest checks are counted first and all subsequent checks will bounce, thus multiplying all of the fees and so on). A commitment to the community would be nice, especially if it takes forms other than plastering the bank's name on cheap crap to give away at 5k runs.
I left Comedy Central on after the rerun of TDS and Colbert, and eventually some comic came on, and he is annoying the everloving shit out of me, because he's being a patriarchal pig. Bring me more Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert, damnit! Sophomoric? Occasionally. But not patriarchal pigs, generally.
Anyway.
I probably have more somewhere in my brain, but it ain't comin' out tonight. Sorry, campers; I'm just boring these days.
Work continues to cram upon me, but I keep slogging away. One thing due tomorrow got submitted today, successfully (I wanted to submit a day early in case there were glitches), which eased my mind a bit; the next part of that submission, due February 6, is a bigger deal with more and bigger pieces, and I have multiple things to do before that happens--things in addition to actually writing the damned proposal, I mean--but I continue to eat the elephant.
Today's idiocy: My bank has a "points" program, up for which I signed. It already has resulted in free money for me, in the form of a $50 Starbucks card (I had my choice of retailers and goods, and selected that particular thing), and, given that I don't pay for my banking, it really is free money. Occasionally they try to get me to sign up for this or that thing to get more points, some of which I'll do, and others of which I won't. One such promotion involved signing up to automatically transfer money from my checking account to my savings account; okay, no big deal. I signed up to automatically transfer $25/month for six months, starting January 15.
Except the bozo who completed this transaction signed me up for $250 a month to be transferred. Luckily, I was looking for the first $25 transfer today and didn't see it. I called a different branch--the branch I prefer--and asked someone about it. You can imagine my dismay when he mentioned a $250 transfer, instead of the $25 I was expecting. We straightened it out, over two phone calls, and nothing bounced, but I was quite peeved. Dipshit.
I moved my banking, such as it is, to this bank about 8 years ago, primarily because it was a small, locally owned bank. A few years ago it was bought by another bank in the region. Okay, not that big a deal. About 18 months ago, it was bought again, by a bigger bank. And a couple of months ago, it was bought yet again. I am still using checks with the name of the second bank on them, which should tell you how quickly this is moving. I find it tiresome, at best, and wish there were a good local alternative. By "good" I mean: free checking account; multiple no-fee ATMs in locations that are convenient to me; no stupidly outrageous fees for overdrafts and the like (I don't normally bounce checks, but I am offended by the exorbitant fees banks charge for that shit, and the predatory way they structure the charges, such that the largest checks are counted first and all subsequent checks will bounce, thus multiplying all of the fees and so on). A commitment to the community would be nice, especially if it takes forms other than plastering the bank's name on cheap crap to give away at 5k runs.
I left Comedy Central on after the rerun of TDS and Colbert, and eventually some comic came on, and he is annoying the everloving shit out of me, because he's being a patriarchal pig. Bring me more Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert, damnit! Sophomoric? Occasionally. But not patriarchal pigs, generally.
Anyway.
I probably have more somewhere in my brain, but it ain't comin' out tonight. Sorry, campers; I'm just boring these days.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Systematic
I am about to make several people's lives a tad more uncomfortable. Not quite miserable, perhaps, although I'll give it the good college try (albeit neither for the gipper nor for the Reagan portrayal of same), but, yes, distinctly uncomfortable. It seems that we--and I use that pronoun loosely in this case--are not providing quite the number of services that we have told our funding agencies and our board of directors that we would be providing. This is by and large NOT true for the whole organization, just for one segment of it, i.e., I hasten to reassure you that your tax dollars are being spent prudently. But I am diligently providing my boss with the fuel to light some fires under some asses. And the matches. And the kindling. And, if need be, some bellows.
I'm kind of enjoying it, if you must know. Keep in mind that I'd be just as happy--even happier, really--if everyone were doing what they were supposed to be doing and I was merely gathering evidence that that's so. The reality is, I just like having systems in place, and backups for those systems, so that we know what we're doing, we can show other people what we're doing, and we have proof that we are, indeed, doing what we say we're doing. One of the things that's turning out to be fun about this job (and frustrating, some days) is the fact that there ARE no systems in place, despite the screaming need for same, which means I get to create them, which is a task I actually enjoy. This may not be a surprise, coming from someone who created systems to make 4,000 croissants or more a week.
I keep starting paragraphs and then erasing them, which I'm going to take as a sign that I'm done with this post.
I'm kind of enjoying it, if you must know. Keep in mind that I'd be just as happy--even happier, really--if everyone were doing what they were supposed to be doing and I was merely gathering evidence that that's so. The reality is, I just like having systems in place, and backups for those systems, so that we know what we're doing, we can show other people what we're doing, and we have proof that we are, indeed, doing what we say we're doing. One of the things that's turning out to be fun about this job (and frustrating, some days) is the fact that there ARE no systems in place, despite the screaming need for same, which means I get to create them, which is a task I actually enjoy. This may not be a surprise, coming from someone who created systems to make 4,000 croissants or more a week.
I keep starting paragraphs and then erasing them, which I'm going to take as a sign that I'm done with this post.
Monday, January 5, 2009
Back to Work
First off, raise a glass in memory of Donald Westlake, whose work I've touted here repeatedly. In reading the obit, I discovered that he wrote an average of something like four books a year. I still recommend him, and I'm seriously bummed that this means no more Dortmunder novels.
Friday I had lunch with a new person at work, someone on whom I intended to rely for a bunch of things (things that are actually in her sphere of responsibility). Turns out that's likely not going to be possible, as she does not have the skills necessary to do her job. To her everlasting credit, she is the one who has figured that out--within days of starting the job, a few weeks ago--and she is trying to figure out wtf to do about it. She can't just quit without another job, but she's pretty sure (and I concurred, based on what she told me) that she's headed for failure in this one. The problem is, her boss explicitly told her she didn't need to know X or be able to do Y--but she does, in fact, need to know X and be able to do Y.
Her boss is just clueless about this, and I knew (knew, knew, knew) this would happen with this job, and warned my own boss about it when the hiring process began. I tried to be helpful, and made several suggestions about paths she can take, but I didn't try to reassure her that, oh, everything will be fine. I think she felt better just having her sense of things validated, and perhaps having someone else who knows the situation. It may also mean that my boss and I are screwed on some things, and I gave him a confidential heads up today.
Some good food got made last week. I needed to have some pork on New Year's Day, to assuage my grandmother's superstitions (as transmitted by my mother). Friend had pork chops and pork tenderloin in the freezer, and got out the chops, so I grabbed some cookbooks and rummaged around, trying to come up with something. I ended up modifying (of course) a recipe from one of the Silver Palate cookbooks. Okay, what I made was REALLY different from the original recipe, but it worked nicely.
I trimmed the fat from the chops and set it aside, then cut the meat into small chunks. I marinated the meat chunks in red wine, with a couple of splashes of balsamic vinegar; chopped figs; chopped prunes; dried cranberries, some molasses; fresh thyme; pepper; salt; and a little honey. It only marinated for a couple of hours--all day might have been even better. And I'd put fresh sage in it, as well, if I had any. I put a little olive oil in an oven-proof pan and rendered the pork fat in it, then removed and tossed the fat. I browned the meat, then removed it and sauteed half a large onion (the other half went into the beans) and threw in a minced clove of garlic as well. When the onions were soft, I dumped everything back into the pan--meat and marinade--and added some wild turkey stock, probably about 12 ounces. The stock was frozen, so I melted it and brought the whole thing to a boil.
Then it went into a 350-degree oven for an hour and quarter or so with a lid on it; I stirred it once in awhile. I eventually took it out, took off the lid, and threw in a little more red wine, then stuck it back into a lower-heat oven, because we were slacking and things didn't happen all that quickly. It ended up cooking for about 2.5 hours rather than 2, but it was extremely tasty--I would like to do it again, with venison, perhaps. It was good with the rice and beans, and i would have liked it with polenta or with a different grain as well. It was very intensely flavored, and it tasted rich, even though it wasn't all that fat-laden.
Back at work today, I started trying to deal with the huge pile of crap that I must complete in the next six to eight weeks. It's going to be ugly, and the aforementioned issue is going to make everything potentially much worse. But, eh, whatever. I'd intended to come home and finish up at least one of the two side projects I need to finish this week, but instead I worked out, hacked up a pineapple and a grapefruit for my week's worth of fruit salad, and made some rice for my lunches this week (I already have the stuff that's going to go on the rice). The other stuff can get done tomorrow.
Kind of a boring post with which to start off a new year, but, hey, it's all I got.
Friday I had lunch with a new person at work, someone on whom I intended to rely for a bunch of things (things that are actually in her sphere of responsibility). Turns out that's likely not going to be possible, as she does not have the skills necessary to do her job. To her everlasting credit, she is the one who has figured that out--within days of starting the job, a few weeks ago--and she is trying to figure out wtf to do about it. She can't just quit without another job, but she's pretty sure (and I concurred, based on what she told me) that she's headed for failure in this one. The problem is, her boss explicitly told her she didn't need to know X or be able to do Y--but she does, in fact, need to know X and be able to do Y.
Her boss is just clueless about this, and I knew (knew, knew, knew) this would happen with this job, and warned my own boss about it when the hiring process began. I tried to be helpful, and made several suggestions about paths she can take, but I didn't try to reassure her that, oh, everything will be fine. I think she felt better just having her sense of things validated, and perhaps having someone else who knows the situation. It may also mean that my boss and I are screwed on some things, and I gave him a confidential heads up today.
Some good food got made last week. I needed to have some pork on New Year's Day, to assuage my grandmother's superstitions (as transmitted by my mother). Friend had pork chops and pork tenderloin in the freezer, and got out the chops, so I grabbed some cookbooks and rummaged around, trying to come up with something. I ended up modifying (of course) a recipe from one of the Silver Palate cookbooks. Okay, what I made was REALLY different from the original recipe, but it worked nicely.
I trimmed the fat from the chops and set it aside, then cut the meat into small chunks. I marinated the meat chunks in red wine, with a couple of splashes of balsamic vinegar; chopped figs; chopped prunes; dried cranberries, some molasses; fresh thyme; pepper; salt; and a little honey. It only marinated for a couple of hours--all day might have been even better. And I'd put fresh sage in it, as well, if I had any. I put a little olive oil in an oven-proof pan and rendered the pork fat in it, then removed and tossed the fat. I browned the meat, then removed it and sauteed half a large onion (the other half went into the beans) and threw in a minced clove of garlic as well. When the onions were soft, I dumped everything back into the pan--meat and marinade--and added some wild turkey stock, probably about 12 ounces. The stock was frozen, so I melted it and brought the whole thing to a boil.
Then it went into a 350-degree oven for an hour and quarter or so with a lid on it; I stirred it once in awhile. I eventually took it out, took off the lid, and threw in a little more red wine, then stuck it back into a lower-heat oven, because we were slacking and things didn't happen all that quickly. It ended up cooking for about 2.5 hours rather than 2, but it was extremely tasty--I would like to do it again, with venison, perhaps. It was good with the rice and beans, and i would have liked it with polenta or with a different grain as well. It was very intensely flavored, and it tasted rich, even though it wasn't all that fat-laden.
Back at work today, I started trying to deal with the huge pile of crap that I must complete in the next six to eight weeks. It's going to be ugly, and the aforementioned issue is going to make everything potentially much worse. But, eh, whatever. I'd intended to come home and finish up at least one of the two side projects I need to finish this week, but instead I worked out, hacked up a pineapple and a grapefruit for my week's worth of fruit salad, and made some rice for my lunches this week (I already have the stuff that's going to go on the rice). The other stuff can get done tomorrow.
Kind of a boring post with which to start off a new year, but, hey, it's all I got.
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