Day of Reckoning

Having engaged in some quantification last Sunday makes today the day of reckoning. I will be bummed if I have not made a millimeter of progress.

I should be patient, right? Besides, even if there is no progress, it's entirely possible I staved off regression of which I was previously unaware. It's not like I assumed a hefty workout regimen or altered my eating habits. Ok, perspective, good.

One year ago at TTaT: Trip Prep, A beginning is a very delicate time
Technorati tags: exercise, progress, goals

Sick of your martyrdom

When you say what you want, and I say what I want, and then you say you'll do what I want, you are not compromising even if you say you are. You're embracing frakking martyrdom, and it pisses me off.

You like that role though. There's no ammunition stockpiles to bolster if we both just do what we want separately. When I insisted that you should do what you wanted to do instead of "compromising," you got angry with me. Clearly, I am the bad guy.

One year ago at TTaT: Number 8
Technorati tags: martyrdom, martyrs

Je souhaite

Aside from the coffee,

I'd… wish that I'd never heard the word wish before. I'd wish that I could live my life moment by moment, … enjoying it for what it is instead of… instead of worrying about what it isn't. I'd sit down somewhere with a great cup of coffee and I'd watch the world go by. But then again, I'm not you so I doubt that's your wish. -Jenn, "Je Souhaite," The X files: season 7, episode 21

But then again... lately, I'm thinking I would wish for perfect health. Genies being the notorious tricksters that they are supposed to be has me considering just what "perfect health" means to me. No more sinus troubles, allergies, strained knees or shoulders. Not another cold ever. No stomach flus, food poisoning, depression. No viruses, diseases, mutations my body has yet to encounter or latent within. No acne, no moles or bumps that could be precursors to skin cancer (or hell, that I find distasteful).

Basically, impervious to all illnesses and injuries, free of flaws. But if that were so, would it make me immortal? No one dies of old age anymore, at least not in the US. I don't really want to live forever. Would I cease to age forced into a nomadic life like Duncan MacLeod? Would my genetics have to be altered to make perfect health possible and if so, how much like myself would I remain? I'm not looking to be indestructible; though it's tempting, I would feel burdened to use my powers for the greater good. Also, I wouldn't want to end up trapped in some lab while scientists fruitlessly study my perfect health. I reckon I want health perks without additional responsibilities.

And then, there are the flaws I kind of like: assorted freckles and my L scar. How would it be possible to phrase the wish to get what I actually want? Is it a vain and self-centered wish? Sure. The really grand wishes never seem to go over well in stories. If you assume three wishes, wish 1 surely ought to be something that would ensure the genie doesn't misinterpret your next wishes for kicks. Just a thought.

What would you wish for?

One year ago at TTaT: This could've been my first post
Technorati tags: wishes, genies, The X Files

What do you mean, no more Wendy's?!

The day started out well enough: feeling good, ready to tackle some errands, but my energy and motivation vanished with a wave of nausea. Drainage, sinuses, weather, pollen, particulates: I curse thee all. Some slow breaths, a couple Pepto bismol chewables, some more mental concentration, and I felt past the risk of throwing up. Still didn't feel particularly well though.

I studied my stomach's moods to discern what I might feel like eating later. Wendy's chili with cheese and some crackers. Didn't sound great, but it was the only thing that sounded all right.

That's when mom informed me there was no more Wendy's.

"What?! No. Huh?"

"There's no more Wendy's."

"What do you mean no more Wendy's? What are you talking about?"

Apparently the guy who owns several franchises across the county was having serious financial problems. Instead of setting closing dates, he just waited for managers to call him and say they were running out of burgers and then just told them to close. No warning, not even for his employees. What a dick.

Two years ago at TTaT: tip of the week- typing; Inspector No.12, where were you?
Technorati tag: Wendy's

Not always the best skill

Back in film school, Directing II included some acting exercises. In one, two people sat in chairs in front of the class, knee-to-knee. One person would make a present-tense observation about the other, and the other would repeat what the first had said verbatim.

"You're wearing jeans."
"You're wearing jeans."

"You're wearing a t-shirt."
"You're wearing a t-shirt."

"Your hair is brown."
"Your hair is brown."

It's more difficult to do than it sounds. A lot of people would switch the pronoun to I when they were repeating and others would drop the "You are..." or "Your" format when they got into details.

"You're wearing a t-shirt."
"I'm wearing a t-shirt."

"It's green."

It is as dull to watch other people doing as it seems unless you happen to be among friends, and they're screwing up and laughing.

When it was my turn to make observations, I sat across from O, our knees interlocked so we were each touching the edge of the other's chair.

"You're wearing a blue shirt."
"You're wearing a blue shirt."

"Your hair is black."
"Your hair is black."

"Your hair is short."
"Your hair is short."

Our professor altered the exercise so that O was supposed to change the yous to Is.

"You're wearing jeans."
"I'm wearing jeans."

"Your stubble is black."
"My stubble is black."

"You're smiling at me."
"I'm smiling at you."

"You're repeating everything I say."
"I'm repeating everything I, you say."

If I couldn't think of something, I had to repeat my last observation to preserve the rapid flow.

"You're repeating everything I say."
"I'm repeating everything you say."

"You're repeating everything I say."
O started messing around with his inflections, getting ever more grandiose. "I am repeating everything you say."

"You're repeating everything I say."
"I'm repeating everything you say."

"You're repeating everything I say."
"I'm repeating everything you say."

I started to laugh and my professor called for the next pair, but just then I got it:
"You're making fun of me."

O grinned. I looked over at my prof and he smiled. The whole point of the exercise was to recognize quickly what someone was really doing in the moment. For a director, this skill is crucial for ensuring she gets the performance she needs. In life, it helps elucidate people's subtext.

I am a literalist, so reading people's suppressed moods and ulterior motives is not my forte, but every now and then my brain clicks back to that repeating exercise and thinks, "What is she really saying?"

It's good to know the answer to that question, but when it comes to my mom, it's better not to call her on her subtext, particularly when she's unconsciously dissing my education because of her unwarranted low self-esteem from never finishing college. Note to self: stop setting off that booby trap.

"You and your father think I'm a monster."

"No, we don't." Oh man, this took a seriously wrong turn. I had pointed out that she was implying I shouldn't like cartoons based on my level of education. All this because I had recounted some silliness from an episode of Futurama.

Mom's eyes were watering and my desire to convince her that I was right plummeted. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"I'm not upset."

Your eyes are watering, I thought to myself, but I let it go.

I often don't know what to say to him

but when we do get around to talking to one another, it doesn't matter much. No one ever had to coax my brother into sharing his opinions. That's cool and Sounds good suffice to fill most of his pauses.

One year ago at TTaT: Two no's, Summer of birthdays
Technorati tags: siblings, brothers and sisters

Behind the Harry Potter lines: redux

The release of this latest Harry Potter tome takes me back to my firsthand experience of the craze in July 2000.
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The store was dead when I arrived, but there was more staff on hand than I'd ever seen at once including staff meetings. Managers and staff from the other branch had joined us for the release of Harry Potter IV: Goblet of Fire.

Since our district manager and the regional vice president were due to show up sometime during the night, we were assigned SONICing. Straight, Organized, Neat, Impeccably Clean. I.e., arrange the books symmetrically tall to short while placing hardbacks face out favoring an aesthetic over alphabetical order.

To get out of the alpha-pretty initiative, I pointed out that I still had books to put out from that week's shipment. Since I had the weekend off, the books wouldn't get touched again until Monday; thankfully, my argument was persuasive, so I spent the next couple of hours productively.

Around 8:50, I was in the back putting away some overstocks when a manager suggested I stop shelving and help with crowd control. I walked back onto the floor now swarming with over a hundred people that seemed to have materialized instantaneously.

Kids in costumes, parents milling, and everyone with questions including the staff. With the bookstore’s usual bureaucracy, the directives I'd read merely said what was supposed to happen, not where or who or how; it was chaos.

I initially dodged face painting in favor of wizard hat making, but once I saw the supplies we had I had no more idea than the kids what we were expected to do with 8x11 pieces of construction paper in terms of making a hat. Dante and I set up some tables, covered them with paper, spread stuff out, and basically left each other hanging as we took turns wandering off until Dante decided it was a wizard hat design contest.

The company big-wigs arrived with the tv crew and added to the mayhem. The roar of conversation drowned out the store music and intercom as more people arrived.

Around ten, I ended up face painting to relieve Brandi so she could judge costumes. I'd never done it before, but once I realized that the expectations were low, and the kids and adults thought I was good, I had fun with it. Lightning bolts, leopards, cats, baseballs, rainbows, hearts, stars: I painted them all.

And then I was back in the fray.

My mistake was going back to customer service. We'd been taking reserves for the book up to the day before, but during the night the regional v.p. told people we'd keep taking reserves. We only had about 50 books beyond the existing list, so I started counting as we added names. Holding 'The List' was simply a bad idea. For 45 minutes, a steady stream of people asked me to add their names or to verify that they were already on The List. They asked about the procedure of getting books. (There wasn't one yet.) People started forming lines without provocation. One guy stood in front of customer service for a couple of hours saying he was just going to follow The List.

I got away and left The List behind to help some poor suckers who'd come in for regular shopping. They were very understanding as I stood in the aisles with a pronounced inability to concentrate.

Rockstar, our shipping and receiving clerk, wasn't working but stopped by to witness the mayhem. He commented that I looked stressed out and asked if I'd had a break yet; I hadn't. By then it was after 11 PM, I was losing my voice, and I was totally dehydrated. He kindly bought me a drink from the cafe and set it in the back room for me.

Finally a plan emerged (albeit a bad one) for distributing the books. Two separate lines: the reserved folk at customer service (that guy was smart to follow The List) and the unreserved at the front. Of course knowing we were going to be short copies, it was ill-advised to have both lines going simultaneously, but that was the directive of the regional v.p., and what she says, you do.

I hung to the back and started putting away all the magazines and books on the floor and benches. The store was a disaster, and the last thing I wanted to do was spend forever cleaning after everyone had gone.

After a while they ran out of copies for both lines; I was glad I didn't have to deal with the people who'd reserved books in advance and hadn't gotten them. Once most of the patrons had departed, a calm swept over the store. Our district manager bought us all drinks from the cafe, so I scored a second Snapple Rain, but that was little compensation for the fact that none of us had gotten dinner breaks.

After the refreshment, I finished cleaning up the magazine section by myself as the rest of the crew hoped and waited for the DM to leave. She didn't. She wasn't going to leave until she had all the numbers for the other stores in her district.

Regaining some motivation, Dante and I then picked up the most dreaded part of the store: the kids' section, while Brandi vacuumed obstinate piles of sparkles from the hat design area and everywhere else they were tracked. Our lurking patrons left, we locked the doors, and I clocked out at twenty to two.

At least I didn't have to be back in the morning like some other folks. Two days off in a row was going to be a real treat.

One year ago at TTaT: Paradise lost
Technorati tags: Harry Potter book release, The Goblet of Fire