Found this imbedded on a friends blog.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Friday, February 20, 2009
She wonders in, and delibretely asks if there is a complaint department department.
There isn't. There is just us.
She rants on. She thinks she is right, that she is justified in thinking and feeling and acting like she does. The lady she is speaking to empathises with her and her situation, so she can't be become angry with her, besides, that wouldn't be what a lady would do.
I laugh under my breath. But she sees me.
"Young man, this is not very funny!!" I agree with her and attempt to tell her that is the way that she told of her situation that was humorous, not the situation itself.
I don't think she believed me. But that's because she's a bigot.
Her stove broke, in particular, an element in the oven. No oven, no cooking. Poor lady was forced to broil something using her barbecue. On her deck. Near the door to the kitchen.
My understanding was the broiling in the oven was barbecuing backward inbred cousin.
My laughter was at her situation and her attitude towards it.
I remembered her.
She was the one who told me that I couldn't possibly know anything about the quality of pots and their subsequent effects on cooking because I was not a women. And then got angry and left, because the women were busy with things. Like work.
Did her husband have to broil what ever she was cooking on the barbecue for her? Because, that's the man's domain isn't it? That and scrambling eggs, if that henpecked fellow is able to sneak into the kitchen....
There isn't. There is just us.
She rants on. She thinks she is right, that she is justified in thinking and feeling and acting like she does. The lady she is speaking to empathises with her and her situation, so she can't be become angry with her, besides, that wouldn't be what a lady would do.
I laugh under my breath. But she sees me.
"Young man, this is not very funny!!" I agree with her and attempt to tell her that is the way that she told of her situation that was humorous, not the situation itself.
I don't think she believed me. But that's because she's a bigot.
Her stove broke, in particular, an element in the oven. No oven, no cooking. Poor lady was forced to broil something using her barbecue. On her deck. Near the door to the kitchen.
My understanding was the broiling in the oven was barbecuing backward inbred cousin.
My laughter was at her situation and her attitude towards it.
I remembered her.
She was the one who told me that I couldn't possibly know anything about the quality of pots and their subsequent effects on cooking because I was not a women. And then got angry and left, because the women were busy with things. Like work.
Did her husband have to broil what ever she was cooking on the barbecue for her? Because, that's the man's domain isn't it? That and scrambling eggs, if that henpecked fellow is able to sneak into the kitchen....
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
I will be moving shortly.
Well, not exactly shortly, it is more like in nearly two months I move.
This has revealed to me what I already knew, that I am a bit of a planner, though I would not consider myself a serious planner.
I just like to have my ducks lined up.
Now, it turns out, those ducks happen to be a little bit militaristic.
Not in any trying to take over the world way, but more of slickely oiled and precise way of going about things. I think my ducks might be German.
I have found myself going through the semi-futile exercise of apartment hunting on Craigslist. It's great for finding an idea of much places go for, not so great in that nothing there will be there if it's any good by the time I need a place.
But I'm feeling pretty good about things.
Well, not exactly shortly, it is more like in nearly two months I move.
This has revealed to me what I already knew, that I am a bit of a planner, though I would not consider myself a serious planner.
I just like to have my ducks lined up.
Now, it turns out, those ducks happen to be a little bit militaristic.
Not in any trying to take over the world way, but more of slickely oiled and precise way of going about things. I think my ducks might be German.
I have found myself going through the semi-futile exercise of apartment hunting on Craigslist. It's great for finding an idea of much places go for, not so great in that nothing there will be there if it's any good by the time I need a place.
But I'm feeling pretty good about things.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
As I write my eyes are fuzzy with fatigue and the results of long days, lack of sleep and trying to read and think, and possibly mal-nutrition and dehydration.
These are the results of a couple of different things. The first is having been up a little late the previous nights doing some reading and things like that. This has been combined with living in a house with archaic insulation. This means that as the temperature drops outside during the night and the programmable thermostat drops the temperature inside (need to save energy, reduce expenses, maintain some level of friendliness towards the environment) my space gets cold.
Cleverly, I chose to do laundry late in the evening, late enough the the load in the dry was not yet dry when I knew that I needed to be in bed. Wet pajamas are not very warm, so I was slightly under dressed for sleeping. So I spent a typical evening in curled-in-ball form sleeping semi-soundly but using more energy than normal to keep warm.
As a result of this I woke up late and tired, and ran out with barely enough time to consume a single slice of 100% whole wheat bread (healthy) eaten dry and plain (healthier) while running around the house doing important things like putting on pants. This running around did not include making lunch, so needless to say, lunch today consisted on a toasted bagel with butter that I found in the work fridge. I simply assumed that that partially consumed pound of butter next to the unopened pound of butter was fair game and I figured that my bagel was in dire need of some sprucing up.
I also at an old apple.
Mom, I'm fine, this is not as regular an occurrence as you might think!
And dinner today was pancakes, eaten late. And I think that I my focus to try and be productive with some reading that I was doing I completely forgot to get anything to drink.
And the reading was dull, and frustrating, the kind of reading that I find frustrating and annoying.
I dislike it when an author or speaker or presenter, well those trying to teach proceed in this manner. In an attempt to be relevant, or catch, or maybe they are simply trying to effectively engage an audience, the person uses anecdotes and stories to try and illustrate concepts. Sometimes this can be a useful tool. However, it is not a useful tool when attempting to define concepts.
I hope I am not wrong in assuming that by attempting to define a concept, an author is seeking to reduce the ambiguity that surrounds said concept. Stories and anecdote's are open to interpretation. So if I need to interpret the story in the way that the author intended, in order to begin to understand how to apply the concept or term back to the story so that I can understand the story, I don't feel any closer than I was before to having a confident grasp that I have seized upon the definition that the author intends me to have taken. Some one could have saved me 20 pages of reading with a page of definitions and examples.
These are the results of a couple of different things. The first is having been up a little late the previous nights doing some reading and things like that. This has been combined with living in a house with archaic insulation. This means that as the temperature drops outside during the night and the programmable thermostat drops the temperature inside (need to save energy, reduce expenses, maintain some level of friendliness towards the environment) my space gets cold.
Cleverly, I chose to do laundry late in the evening, late enough the the load in the dry was not yet dry when I knew that I needed to be in bed. Wet pajamas are not very warm, so I was slightly under dressed for sleeping. So I spent a typical evening in curled-in-ball form sleeping semi-soundly but using more energy than normal to keep warm.
As a result of this I woke up late and tired, and ran out with barely enough time to consume a single slice of 100% whole wheat bread (healthy) eaten dry and plain (healthier) while running around the house doing important things like putting on pants. This running around did not include making lunch, so needless to say, lunch today consisted on a toasted bagel with butter that I found in the work fridge. I simply assumed that that partially consumed pound of butter next to the unopened pound of butter was fair game and I figured that my bagel was in dire need of some sprucing up.
I also at an old apple.
Mom, I'm fine, this is not as regular an occurrence as you might think!
And dinner today was pancakes, eaten late. And I think that I my focus to try and be productive with some reading that I was doing I completely forgot to get anything to drink.
And the reading was dull, and frustrating, the kind of reading that I find frustrating and annoying.
I dislike it when an author or speaker or presenter, well those trying to teach proceed in this manner. In an attempt to be relevant, or catch, or maybe they are simply trying to effectively engage an audience, the person uses anecdotes and stories to try and illustrate concepts. Sometimes this can be a useful tool. However, it is not a useful tool when attempting to define concepts.
I hope I am not wrong in assuming that by attempting to define a concept, an author is seeking to reduce the ambiguity that surrounds said concept. Stories and anecdote's are open to interpretation. So if I need to interpret the story in the way that the author intended, in order to begin to understand how to apply the concept or term back to the story so that I can understand the story, I don't feel any closer than I was before to having a confident grasp that I have seized upon the definition that the author intends me to have taken. Some one could have saved me 20 pages of reading with a page of definitions and examples.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Those Days
You know, those days where you are presented with choices but no matter what choice you make, it will always be the wrong choice? I feel like I have choices A, B and lets say Q to pursue. If I choose to pursue B, both A and Q (which require a quicker response) will no longer be viable options. However, because I have selected B, and due to the time sensitive nature of these things, B decides to cut me from the team so to speak, meaning I should have pursed either A or Q, and committed to them while still actually wanting to be pursing B, but simply building layers and layers of contingency plans that are not plans to purse?
This is where I am today. I think I need to back track to things that over the weekend I decided that I did not wish to pursue in favour of other opportunities that for whatever reason have decided to simply disappear. Sometimes I rather dislike making decisions, especially decisions that are laced with both hope and uncertainity. Not that I think that I am a risk averse individual, but I think I am becoming less and less able to deal with it all right not.
Rant Part 1: Why would a company say that they want me back for a second interview, with the "people of importance" and then fail to call me back when they had it scheduled, and then fail to return my calls? Please realize that you are dealing with people that are trying to plan and structure their lives and your BS really doesn't help at all. Show a little respect, just tell me you don't want me.
I have a couple of calls to make and a couple of emails to send off to people. And then it's all about seeing what happens some more. More waiting? More trying things out and then leaving? The problem with which is I wasn't raised to be a quitter. But to suck it up and finish it. And carry through, and to keep my word and honour my committments. It's depressing that being two-faced seems to be such a key element to make it in this world.
This is where I am today. I think I need to back track to things that over the weekend I decided that I did not wish to pursue in favour of other opportunities that for whatever reason have decided to simply disappear. Sometimes I rather dislike making decisions, especially decisions that are laced with both hope and uncertainity. Not that I think that I am a risk averse individual, but I think I am becoming less and less able to deal with it all right not.
Rant Part 1: Why would a company say that they want me back for a second interview, with the "people of importance" and then fail to call me back when they had it scheduled, and then fail to return my calls? Please realize that you are dealing with people that are trying to plan and structure their lives and your BS really doesn't help at all. Show a little respect, just tell me you don't want me.
I have a couple of calls to make and a couple of emails to send off to people. And then it's all about seeing what happens some more. More waiting? More trying things out and then leaving? The problem with which is I wasn't raised to be a quitter. But to suck it up and finish it. And carry through, and to keep my word and honour my committments. It's depressing that being two-faced seems to be such a key element to make it in this world.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Writing
I realize that I may not be the worlds most creative writer. I've never been good with coming up with stories. And most of things that run through my head in the middle of the night when the part of my brain that informs of that things are stupid has shut down and would thus permit me to write isn't ever all that dormant. It realises that most things are just a little bit too personal to place on the world wide web.
I can understand people pouring out their lives through text, and hoping to share that with people that may be distant, or the efforts to remain in contact with friendships that because of our dependence on technology seem to function best with electronic assistance. But this format is accessible to almost everyone, friends, co-workers, employers, stalkers and identity thieves.
So I oscillate between writing about my personal life, a fictional life, random current events, when secretly, I think that I too am trying to experience connection, the the wires that make up our social world. Except I have a laptop, so that I can do it wirelessly and not be confined to a desk, but anyplace that I can contort my body to take form that contains a lap.
You will notice that there is a map and hit counter on the bottom of this page. I use it to figure out where you people are coming from. I can also find out how you got to this page, but I can't figure out who you are. But it does explain the random visitors from places like India, or Venezuela, where I do not know a single person, but that people have searched Google for pictures of bread or of well, something, and then ended up here.
I wonder "Who are these people, and what are they doing traipsing through my public life?" because, due to the way that social networking exist now, our lives are all public, from facebook, to what is posted to a friend, to pictures, so much of life is now possible to be put on display for strangers or people vaguely connected to us. Like that friend from grade two that added you on facebook, well, that kid in grade two that used to steal your granola bars, do you wonder why you are here? because I would wonder why you are here.
Or maybe I should just write things to try and change the world? Because at least ten random people from seemingly random places in the world will read this. Maybe I will start proofreading things then.....
I can understand people pouring out their lives through text, and hoping to share that with people that may be distant, or the efforts to remain in contact with friendships that because of our dependence on technology seem to function best with electronic assistance. But this format is accessible to almost everyone, friends, co-workers, employers, stalkers and identity thieves.
So I oscillate between writing about my personal life, a fictional life, random current events, when secretly, I think that I too am trying to experience connection, the the wires that make up our social world. Except I have a laptop, so that I can do it wirelessly and not be confined to a desk, but anyplace that I can contort my body to take form that contains a lap.
You will notice that there is a map and hit counter on the bottom of this page. I use it to figure out where you people are coming from. I can also find out how you got to this page, but I can't figure out who you are. But it does explain the random visitors from places like India, or Venezuela, where I do not know a single person, but that people have searched Google for pictures of bread or of well, something, and then ended up here.
I wonder "Who are these people, and what are they doing traipsing through my public life?" because, due to the way that social networking exist now, our lives are all public, from facebook, to what is posted to a friend, to pictures, so much of life is now possible to be put on display for strangers or people vaguely connected to us. Like that friend from grade two that added you on facebook, well, that kid in grade two that used to steal your granola bars, do you wonder why you are here? because I would wonder why you are here.
Or maybe I should just write things to try and change the world? Because at least ten random people from seemingly random places in the world will read this. Maybe I will start proofreading things then.....
Friday, March 21, 2008
The Metaphysics of Hands Injuries
As this has been the most encompassing circumstance of my life the last two months it would only be likely that at some point I would end up analyzing the circumstances behind injuring my hand, and the reasons and why, and then the associated ramifications. And being a spiritual person, this implies that there is some degree of involvement of the divine in the happenings of everyday life.
I cut my hand a work while using a table saw. My hand slipped and made a rather brief but profound acquaintance with the spinning blade. The key Questions that arise are why.
WHY
Why did this happen? Are there some greater reasons for being injured (or for other circumstances in life) that I don't fully understand yet? Is this god turning me from one path to another? (then what's the other path?)
Why wasn't this worse? Is this divine providence? Or do I just have cat-like reflexes when saws start to cut my flesh? What about all the people that I have since come across with much more severe injuries of a similar variety? They seem to want to go back to their jobs.
Why is finding work that seems to bring satisfaction such a difficult thing? Sometimes I wonder if I have cursed myself with being to much of an idealist and I keep seeking a Utopian vocational goal that always seems to be slightly beyond my grasp.
Why does it seem like people are less likely to judge someone for writing about bread than for sharing some actual thoughts?
Where is God in all of this? I am pretty sure that outcomes matter. I mean it's a big part of Easter, isn't it?
I cut my hand a work while using a table saw. My hand slipped and made a rather brief but profound acquaintance with the spinning blade. The key Questions that arise are why.
WHY
Why did this happen? Are there some greater reasons for being injured (or for other circumstances in life) that I don't fully understand yet? Is this god turning me from one path to another? (then what's the other path?)
Why wasn't this worse? Is this divine providence? Or do I just have cat-like reflexes when saws start to cut my flesh? What about all the people that I have since come across with much more severe injuries of a similar variety? They seem to want to go back to their jobs.
Why is finding work that seems to bring satisfaction such a difficult thing? Sometimes I wonder if I have cursed myself with being to much of an idealist and I keep seeking a Utopian vocational goal that always seems to be slightly beyond my grasp.
Why does it seem like people are less likely to judge someone for writing about bread than for sharing some actual thoughts?
Where is God in all of this? I am pretty sure that outcomes matter. I mean it's a big part of Easter, isn't it?
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