Stepping Stones and After the Bar?

Transition periods have a tendency of making me restless. This week is the last week before summer break. Thus, I'm restless tonight. And tired. Not the most ideal of combinations. I feel like there's something I ought to be working on - other than my big class paper (which I'm not focused enough to work on right now anyway) - but I'm at a loss for what, in particular.

During dinner with friends tonight, I was asked the question of what I'll talk about here once I'm done waitressing in August. What would have the same kind of tone and comedic potential? I'm steering clear of teaching topics, because I can only poke so much fun at myself and I'm not going to talk about my students. That can only end badly. I've run out of steam on movie reviews - so hard to stay creative when it's all just more "I liked it" or "I didn't."

I've gotten personal in the past, but I don't know that I want to go back to that. Yeah, blogging is the new confessional and all of that, yet I'm not feeling particularly compelled to go in that direction.

Transitions... Going from one place to another. The foot is mid-air, headed for the next rock across the stream.

Can we always be our own compass, or do we sometimes need others to help point the way?

Tonight is a night for questions.

I can say that I'm in a better place now than I was in November. I've been saying "no" more often and in the past week or so I've taken a new risk which is spreading its own ripples. A couple of days ago I bought a new CD, Cracked Rear View by Hootie and the Blowfish. It's much more of a mainstream album than what I usually shell out cash for, but it's fitting really well right now.

I can say that my priorities have shifted. Notable: I've gone through the entire semester (practically) without once getting sick, despite the nasty flu that was going around and hit at least three students in my comp. class hard. As good an indication as any that I'm doing better on balancing myself out.

Tonight I'm thinking of ways of communicating, relationships, uncertainty, fear, the skunk under my porch, popcorn, Celtic music, things that are funny about people, sighs, meteor showers, that time of night when all the lights are out and you're in bed getting ready to fall asleep, the color blue, movies, conversations, eye contact, smiles, things that grow, and next week.

So on a closing note: People underrate the importance of humor. They oughtn't.

Is There a Connection?

Last night at 11:30 there was a commotion outside my house - specifically, in front of the house of my [meth addicted] next door neighbor. There were about six people having a very heated discussion for a good twenty minutes. While I couldn't make out most of what was said, I did hear something about a white Toyota truck which was gone. A little before midnight, a squad car pulls up and one of the gathered people has a conversation with an officer.

This morning, a couple of minutes ago, I hear knocking on my door. Typically, I don't answer my door when I'm not specifically expecting someone. This is to avoid people who are trying to sell me stuff or trying to get me to go to their church. Today, however, given this weekend's special circumstances, I broke policy.

I open my door to find a neighbor I don't recognize. He's the owner of last night's truck. As it turns out, he let the meth addict borrow it yesterday and the guy left him in his house (i.e. next door) and never returned. The neighbor somehow didn't get the addict's name (why you'd lend your truck to someone without knowing their name is baffling to me) and was asking if I knew anything about the guy. I wrote down his name and wished my neighbor luck in the return of his truck.

Neighbor: I don't know if maybe he's in jail or something. Then I'd know where to go get my truck. Now I can call and ask if he's there.

Maybe, if he is, that means I get my CDs back.

Break-In, the Day After

I talked with one set of my next door neighbors today - the cool ones who also know my parents, not the crazy one who's a meth addict and the most likely suspect, in my mind, for the break-in. They live on the opposite side of the house that the break-in happened, and hadn't really seen anything. However, they were really cool and helped me board up my broken window.

Today was also the day I planted the excessive amount of flowers I bought the other day. I mention this because, while getting ready for gardening, I went out the back door and noticed the blood on the outside doorknob. Yup, it seems that if you break into someone's house via a window, you just might cut yourself. I made a phone call to the police and a while later a CSI-type gal pulled up to take a sample. "Unfortunately," she said, "we don't run blood samples in burglaries unless there's already a suspect." So, whether or not the blood donation on my back door will prove useful remains to be seen.

At this point, it looks like the excitement is all over. Unless the police find a suspect somehow (which is unlikely), that's the end of it. My boarded up window will remain as-is for a while, and I'm rather okay with this as it's harder to break plywood than glass. Sometime in the next couple of days I'll venture out to the store to see what I can find by way of stereo (and CD) replacement.

Then, too, there is the small matter of cleaning a stranger's blood off my door. I can't help but hope that the burglar's cut gets infected and gangrenous. Ideally, some kind of amputation will prove necessary.

A Big Pile of Suck

So, today was another one of those long-ass days that started with comp. class and ended with the bar. I showed up at the bar at four o'clock and stuff happened, people said stuff, and one of my tables stayed entirely too long, forcing me to be there until one thirty.

Not my favorite day, to say the least. But, we're not going to get into any bar stuff tonight. No, we're skipping right over all that because when I got home I stepped through the front door and noticed that something was off. You see, one of the first things I see when I step through my front door is my entertainment center. Tonight I noticed that on top of my entertainment center, where my stereo usually stands, there was empty space.

My mind worked really hard really fast, trying to figure out a logical explanation. My folks/landlords have a key and my first thought was that they had, for some reason taken my stereo. However, as they are currently out of town, that explanation didn't work. A few moments of the rest of my brain catching up to immediate reaction: Oh, I get it, I've been robbed.

That's right, my friends. At some point in my long-ass day and night, one or more people took it upon themselves to break the window at the side of my house, invite themselves inside, and make off with some of my possessions. As realization dawned on me, I noticed stuff that had been knocked over. I noticed that my collection of little boxes on my bookshelf had been rifled through, etc.

Gone:
Stereo (and the CDs inside of it)
Keyboard
One scotch container of maybe $50 of change
My rings (all inexpensive jobbies less than $10 each)

So far as I can tell, after a walk through of my house, that's all that's gone. That's the part which is simultaneously a relief, and rather baffling. It leads me to think that the theives were in a hurry and limited on the stuff they could carry. I get taking the stereo. I don't get leaving all the CDs (other than those already in the stereo) which have got to be worth more than an old stereo that's going on ten years, and are certainly easier to toss in a bag than a keyboard. Why they would take the old stereo and leave my new-ish computer, I don't know (not that I'm complaining, mind you).

In my room they dug through my old backpack - because that's the first place I'd put valuables, right? They completely missed the $20 or so cash I had laying out in the living room and walked right by my digital camera. Weirdest of all: for the CDs I had in my stereo, I had the cases leaning against a speaker. When they took the stereo, they left the cases on my entertainment center, more-or-less neatly stacked. I've got no clue there.

So, after I walked through the house I had to consciously think: Ok, now what do I do? Because, seriously, twenty minutes earlier all I was thinking was how damn tired I was and how good it would be to go to bed. I was not thinking of what one does in the event of a break in. It took me a minute to get my phone to call the police. Two officers came out, took some notes, looked at the broken window, and gave me a case number. Then they pretty much shrugged, said "Call if you find out anything else," and went on their way.

This brings me pretty well up to the present. I've taped up a couple of garbage bags to cover my window and resigned myself to the fact that there's no way I'm falling asleep tonight. I'm incredibly relieved that, though they took stuff, they didn't actually take that much, and they none of what they took was super valuable. My beads and the jewelry I've made were left alone, as was my computer (my two most valuable/important things). My grandfather's violin, which I tucked behind the couch, was left alone. They didn't do any vandalism (save the busted window), and most of what they took is easy to replace. Now I can get a new stereo, even.

It's strange, to think about this in the context of what people value. Obviously (and fortuantely), I and my intruders have different priorities.

Ultimately, I find that what I'm most pissed about is dealing with the window and the fact that my new Flogging Molly and Dropkick Murphys CDs, since they were the ones in the stereo, are gone. Bastards. I just got those CDs. Oh yeah, and the fact that somebody fucking broke into my house. That, in and of itself, does nothing for my mood.

Maybe now my dad will warm up to the idea of me having a dog.

The Stress Factor

Sooner or later, something is going to go wrong. Whether that something is small scale or grandiose, snags happen.

This weekend was an interesting case study. Between the bar on Friday and the writing marathon Saturday (which had a snag with the meeting place), I've been watching a number of people respond to stress. We all like to talk about the most telling things about people - how they treat their server, for one - and I want to comment on another telling thing about a given person: how they respond to a problem.

I talk about having a lot of respect and appreciation for my coworkers at the bar, and I chalk a lot of that to the fact that working in a bar is, among other things, responding to a series of problems. Every single night, at least one thing goes wrong. Many nights there's at least one person who's got a problem with something, and it's the staff's job to solve the problem: stress.

So, we have certain reactions from people who deal with problems. For the most part, I see three.
Confusion/helplessness: "I don't know what's going on!"
Negativity/blame: "I don't like problems, and I don't think I should have to deal with them. This is your fault."
Positivity/proactivity: "Okay, so how do I/we fix it?"

Writing marathon = snag = stress = variety of reactions. While part of me is responding to these concerns/comments, another part of me is keeping quiet. The quiet part is the one that wants to look at people (not just in this case, but in all similar cases) and say something to the effect of:

Okay, my friend. I hear your problem, but what did you do to try and solve it? Nothing? Why, how did you get so helpless?

or

I'm sorry this upset you, but realize that I am not the enemy. There's no need to hate me, I'm doing my best to help you.

And then, to all those who have that third reaction, I really want to hug you. Thank you so much for looking at problems through the lense of problem-solving, you rock.

Okay, no more soapbox now. Just keep in mind, the next time a situation upsets you, that while you cannot always control the situation happening around/to you, you can control your response to it. Be proactive, my friend. It just works better that way.

Training

My bar is a small business owned by people who haven't really worked in the industry. Combine the two and you get a training method that is defined primarily by "this is how the computer works." For the most part, it works just fine. People who aren't going to catch on to the rest on their own probably wouldn't much catch on even if we did train them.

Heck, my own training consisted of putting orders in the computer for one of the waitresses for an hour or so for a couple of days after I finished my shift in the kitchen. Then, about twenty minutes in on my first official day on the floor the gal I was working with got a call, her father just went in to the hospital. A few blurry minutes of her closing/transfering tabs later and she was gone. Another gal who had the night off agreed to come in to help out, but she only could for about two hours. In the end, during my first-ever night as a waitress I was almost completely all on my own for a Saturday night. Talk about trial-by-fire. Thank George for patient bartenders who kept answering questions like, "What's VO?" without smacking me.

Last Friday the new gal started. Fortunately, happy hour was slow enough that I could ease her in and by the time we got busy enough that I needed her help, she could do it. Training the new gal has been unusual, not because she's the first person I've trained, but because she's the first person to be, effectively, my apprentice. I'm the only full-time waitress right now, so there's no one else to add to what I'm doing, thus, it's all on me. Now, new gal just finished bartending school, which taught her how to make some drinks, but left out the customer service part, or just about anything that has practical application.

Cut to yesterday: My sore throat has blossomed into a full-blown cold and I walk in to start my shift at 4:00 sounding like Darth Vader's frog. New gal's scheduled on the floor with me, but not until nine, which leaves me five hours of watching the clock just waiting for her to get there so I can let her take over. I thank my stars it's a slow Friday. Finally, new gal arrives and I tell her my plan to let her have everyone else who walks in. A couple more of my tables clear out, new gal takes the new tables, and I'm left with one that's a half-dozen people hanging out, having a good time, and going no place fast. Yet, they're tapering off, and looking about ready.

Julia: Are you gonna ask to go home?
Ali: Not yet.
Julia: You should. I wouldn't want you waiting on me.

Weekends are funny in that on Friday and Saturday you have to ask one of the owners if you want to leave. Specifically, you ask the one who's "in charge" on weekends. She doesn't like letting people go. "What if we get busy?" You get the idea. Usually, it works all right if the person who wants to go home has the person they're working with ask to send that person home. i.e. I want to go home, my co-server says, "Can I send Ali home?" Since it was just me and new gal, that strategy was not going to work, so it had to be all me.

I went over to the owner, had a nice painful cough right next to her (it hurt enough to make my eyes water) and asked to go home. She hesitated, and gave me that "why do you always want to leave?" look. I quickly made the point that I had one table, new gal had all the others, and even if I stayed, I couldn't really speak and therefore would be useless anyhow. It was that last point that saved me, and I was given the go-ahead on the condition that I talk to new gal before I go.

Fine by me. My table was just about ready to close their tab and if a lecture/pep talk was what it was going to take, so be it. Of course, there's a whole thing here that comes down to - the owner isn't impressed by how new gal is doing, and it's my job to tell her to do better, even though I think she's doing all right for a new gal. Sure, she hasn't hit her groove yet, but she's so green she's bendy. Anyhow, I pulled her back in the kitchen which was closed by then and thus quiet and easier for me to croak loud enough for new gal to understand me and gave her the run-down:
I'm gettin' out of here before I die, but that makes owner nervous. Don't take it personally, she always gets nervous about sending someone home, (even though happy hour has lately been busier than any other part of the night and we always have only one person during happy hour, usually me, and I manage just fine). If you need anything, ask Julia, she's your go-to gal. Don't ask the other bartender, she doesn't like anybody. Now, you're gonna be fine without me, just remember to keep a closer eye on your tables. The best thing you can do is keep walking around. Even if you're not "checking" on a table, keep looking for empties. That way, if the table does need something, you're there and it helps the bartenders by not letting dirty glassware pile up. Now, do you need anything from me before I go?
NG: Can I watch you close out your bank and see how you do it again?
Me: No problem. I'm going to cash out my last table and I while I'm doing that, I want you to do a walk around and check on each of your tables. Once they're all squared away, I'll close out my bank.

About twenty minutes later, she's caught up on her tables. It was interesting, because as soon as I told her to check on all her tables, it turned out that most of them needed something. One of the easiest things to do when you're new is underestimate how needy your tables are. It takes practice. So, while she delivered a ton of drinks all at once, I sat down by the front door to wait. As long as I didn't have to talk, I was fine hanging out. Besides, it gave me a chance to watch her a bit. She went from table, to bar, to table and back again, which is how I know that everybody wanted something. She also picked up a lot of empty glasses. She's green, but she's catching on. The fact that she did what I told her to with the glassware is encouraging.

When it comes to newbies, I put less priority on previous experience and more on the newbie's willingness to take suggestions and their ability to learn quickly. It's still too soon to tell about new gal for sure, but I'm optimistic.

Wow, this post got a lot longer than I expected, and already I'm thinking of other things to add to it, like comments about bartending school, serving styles, and co-worker personality dynamics/hazing.

I'll finish off with a bar quote, my only one for this week since I wrangled Wednesday off and called in for tonight:
Gal: This isn't Sunshine Wheat.
Me: (It sure looks like Sunshine Wheat) Are you sure? (Normally, not a question I'd ask, but I was sick and annoyed)
Gal: It doesn't have an orange on it. Sunshine Wheat has an orange on it.
Me: Let me see if we have any oranges.
Gal: Okay.
-Problem solved. Apparently, the type of fruit served with the beer changes the beer itself. Amazing!

Translatable Skills

Today I ventured into Katherine's composition class and met a dozen students. I'm going to save most of my comments for the other blog, but I've got to say that all this waitressing is going to pay off in a way I didn't exactly expect.

During class I learned everybody's name, even if I only heard it once, and got a good feel for personality types. One of Katherine's comments during our debriefing afterward, when I mentioned my impression of one particular student, was, "Yup, that's him exactly."

It makes sense, in fact it's so obvious I wonder why I didn't draw a stronger connection before, that waitressing is so much like teaching. When you look at the day-to-day skills effective teachers have, they're really comparable to those of a good waitress. Good teachers remember their students' names, can handle a variety of personality types, know how to lead students to refining their ideas, even when the student isn't all together clear on basic concepts ("Yes, but what's your argument?), and are constantly aware of a large number of people and what they're doing. Good servers remember who had what to drink/eat, can handle a variety of personality types, know how to lead customers to refining their order ("What kind of vodka would you like in your cape cod?) even when customers aren't all together clear on basic concepts ("What would you like for your side?" "Oh, I get a side with that?"), and are constantly aware of a large number of people and what they're doing.

After today, I'm suddenly feeling more prepared for teaching next semester. While I'm still venturing into new territory in terms of designing a whole syllabus and all, part of it's going to be the same exact thing I do each and every weekend. And, with teaching, at least I'll have greater variety in my wardrobe.

When the Internet Has Teeth

All right, let me warn you, I'm going to keep things vague here. You'll see why.

Between school and both of my jobs, I come into contact with a ton of teachers and professors. I mean oodles. This contact has been an eye-opener and has impressed upon me that, in the teaching sector there are some stunning, innovative, brilliant folk, and some that are... less so. Katherine knows many of these same folk since she knows just about everyone in the education sector through SCWP. This morning, Katherine calls me to say she's running a bit late and sending me a file to make copies of, and oh, by the way, did I read the paper yesterday?

I don't get the paper, much less read it (I know, bad me for not keeping up on current events). She says, "X was in it. Check it out."

I go to the paper's website and there it is, an article about how X is currently on administrative leave while people who do these things investigate. Why?

MySpace strikes again. Public sphere, people, public sphere. Granted, not quite so public in this case as X's profile is private, however X gave some students a password to access the account, which contains some suggestive/not-so-appropriate material for sharing with one's students.

Katherine's comment: I talk about this in class. When I talk about Blackboard (our campus's online forum platform) I talk about this. Any time we talk about using this kind of technology, I talk about this. You've heard me talk about this.

Me: Yeah. Some people listen louder than others, though.

So, at the moment, I have no idea what X's fate will be. However, I just don't see how getting one's name in the newspaper where the story is about how you've been inappropriate with students is any kind of good sign.

Now, getting a bit reflective: I write SCWP posts from time to time. This means this blog pops up if you search for SCWP. See where this is going? Notice how my SCWP posts are especially carefully worded? Next semester I'll be teaching, with a number of students I could talk about. I won't. Anything you hear about class will be, like the SCWP posts, carefully worded.

I'm all for having free expression and not having to hide who you are. I'm also all for having audience awareness and appreciation for what it really means to put who you are online. Let's face it, sometimes too much personal expression comes back to bite you.

Okay, I'm stepping off my soap box now.

Fun Spam

You know, there are a lot of people who say writing doesn't matter. Then there are a lot of people who will form a first impression of someone based on their writing. I'm that second kind. Now, for the sake of argument, let's say you're a man. Let's say this isn't spam. It's still funny, isn't it?

"Greetings From LAURA

It is obvious that this email will come to you as a surprise, this is because we have not met before but i am inspired to sending you this e-mail In my quest for you. With opportunity that will be mutual benefit to two of us, However, I am MISS LAURA Anderson, by name and i am 30 years of age from South Africa.

I am lady with a pure heart and i am also born again christian. I want you to send an email to my email address so i can give you my picture for you to know whom i am, then i hope you will like what you see and write me to my e.mail ?. My aim here is to meet a

man that will love me and be my husband then i will do the same thing to him and i will love him with all my heart .

I am not here for any
game and i am not looking for a player either so please if you are player dont bother to write me back but if you are seriously looking for a serious relationship like i do then lets make it happen . Write me to my email and i will write you back with my beautiful picture attach to it . Thank you and i hope to hear from you as soon as possible.

I believe we can move from here. Remeber the distance or colour does not matter but love matters alot in life. Waiting for your email.

Yours
LAURA ANDERSON"

Why Aren't You Smiling?

Guy: (Because I wasn't smiling) Why are you so unhappy?
Me: I'm just not a naturally smiley person.

I wish that people would pay me money when they ask this question. It'd make me less irritated and help pay my bills. Apparently, part of my job as bar wench is to be so ecstatically happy during my whole shift that I smile hugely for 6-10 hours straight. I continuously get some wise-ass or another asking me why I'm not smiling. Granted, this has decreased since I began the practice of having my "bar face" wherein I've conditioned myself to look happy all the damn time (or, at least try).

There's one regular, in particular, who is very concerned with my state of facial expression. Last night may have shut him up (one can only hope) but I doubt it. He's even made these comments to Dave who is one of the most perpetually upbeat people I know.

Last night, I mentioned the comment to Dave, who said something interesting. The general idea of what he said is that when people ask why you're not smiling they're trying to put you on the defensive. It's a power game whereby you have to justify yourself to said person. When asked this question, you can either respond with an explanation of your unhappiness, or assert that yes, you are in fact chipper as hell. Either way, you're called upon to explain your emotional state. Those bastards. I oughtn't need to justify my emotional state to most people, let alone some random guy in a bar.

Besides, I'd like to see him smile every day, the whole day, when he's at his job just to keep people from asking why he's unhappy. It's harder than it looks, bub.

Stop Whining: Interesting Article

So, all these times when I haven't been the most sypathetic ear, like in my post http://ev-boulevard.blogspot.com/2007/05/not-bit-with-sympathy.html maybe it's really because I want to help people. I'm not being mean, I'm being helpful. Got it? If you don't believe me, just read this article: http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/20185446/wid/11915773?GT1=10316

Sometimes a Bear is Just a Bear

Timothy Treadwell: Oh my gosh! The bear has left me her poop! It's her crap! It was just in her butt and it's still warm! This is a gift...
-Grizzly Man

I just watched this documentary last night and I have to say it's pretty good. Also impressive in how it shows the very unbalanced mental state of Treadwell. Not that Herzog purposely sets out to do so, in fact, he gives Treadwell a lot of credit. However, the simple facts of the footage show a very disturbed guy.

Treadwell was delusional at the very least - anyone with an ounce of common sense knows that wild animals are just that. Yet, in footage he shot of himself he gives these big speeches about how much he loves the bears in a they're-my-best-friends kind of way. Creepy. Add to that his profanity laden rants against the forest service, his paranoid comments about who's out to get him, his lack of concern about habituating wild animals to humans, and that he took personal offense at the harsher side of nature, and you get a guy who proclaims to love nature, yet doesn't understand it. Nuts, I tell ya. I strongly recommend this documentary to anyone who's got an interest in either psychology or ecology, or those who just have morbig curiosity.

Let me just interject here that I spent about six years volunteering at a raptor rehab. center. I want to make it very explicit that wild animals are not your friends, and wild predators even less so. The only time animals "get along" with humans is when they've been habituated to them, in the case of birds, it's called imprinting and it's an irreversible mental process wherein a bird believes they are human.

We had an imprinted barn owl who's an excellent case-in-point. He was so firmly imprinted that he made courtship gestures toward humans (especially blond gals), fell asleep during presentations, and attacked another barn owl who was once put in the same cage. What's the big deal about falling asleep? A wild raptor will never fully relax in the presence of humans because it looks at us and sees larger predators. That Skyler wasn't worried was a bad sign. Imprints are permanent residents. Unlike birds who've been physically injured, but then heal, imprinting can never undone.

Wild animals are wild animals and even people who know what they're doing (I'm not including Treadwell here) can get hurt. Peggy, who was the Raptor Center biologist, has a severed nerve in her left hand and a thumb that doesn't work quite right because she didn't pay as much attention as she should have. She was doing a presentation with a great horned owl (non-imprint) and let the crowd get a little too close. The bird tightened its grip on her fist and ran its talons right through the glove, her hand, and out the opposite side of the glove. Peggy didn't even notice until someone told her she was bleeding.

While I was at the R.C. I was never hurt by a bird (though I did get bitten by a feeder rat). Part of this was the training I recieved, more was luck. After all, I often did the exact same thing Keith did when one day he was holding a bald eagle and the eagle turned its head and bit Keith's lip. Keith had to get stitches. Predators are built to kill, and even though we take precautions, we're never completely safe.

Treadwell didn't give the bears the respect they deserved as predators. While the loss of human life is sad, I can't feel particularly upset about his death. It's like feeling sorry for the guy who comes to the bar every night and drives home drunk, saying "I know how to handle my liquor," then one night smashes into a tree.

Don't get me wrong, I'm all for protecting these bears and other wild animals. I just draw the line at making them my "buddies."

Not Big With the Sympathy

"Where's your sympathy?"
-Mom

On occasion, my mother has called me, usually jokingly, heartless. I’m not big on “ooh, that’s too bad” stuff when people complain. Why? Because of things like Saturday.

Katherine stopped by the bar for a while, along with a smattering of SCWP folk. One of whom is in the masters program and I’ve known her for a while. To be honest, I’m not a big fan. Let me explain: drama. On Saturday, Katherine and another gal were feeling badly for her, they even got her a shot out of sympathy. When this gal went out for a cigarette, I went out to pick up glasses from the patio and asked her about why she was so stressed.

I got a laundry list of every little problem she had, like the pump on her swamp cooler went out, her car’s having problems, her mom’s coming to visit and her house is messy, she’s so busy with SCWP, and she’s got a lot of school deadlines due at the end of the month. By the way, these school deadlines are her finishing up coursework for classes she took a semester or two ago and currently has an incomplete in. I was in one of those classes, I don’t think it was that overwhelming. Yeah, she works full time. Great. Um, so do I, and during the semester we had a class together, I think that was her only class (I took two). She doesn’t even have time-absorbing kids as an excuse. The best part was how she whined about not being able to even have the summer off because of SCWP (which is one month of the three of break). As I write this, I’m trying to remember the last time I had three months in a row where I didn’t have to go to work. I think it was middle school. Anyhow, during her litany, I nodded and said “yeah” and then tried to walk back inside. She kept right on talking. Yeesh. I wanted to tell her “Get the hell over it already, most of these problems are of your own making anyway.”

Then, on the other hand, we have Julia. She works three-four nights a week at the bar, including the occasional killer 2:30 p.m. – 2:00 a.m. (if she’s lucky) shift. She also works around thirty + hours as a caretaker, and she’s been taking classes. She finally got her bachelor’s on May 5th and had the whole week off of work for it. The week before she was looking forward to getting some housework done. Unfortunately, she didn’t get the chance. Her brother’s new baby died, SIDS strikes again, and she spent the week in Kansas for the funeral. Instead of getting a chance to have some time to herself and celebrate her degree, she got to spend some time with family, grieving over her nephew’s death. While she told me what happened, and I could tell how sad she was, she did not go on and on about how her life sucks.

Isn’t it funny how the people who complain the most are often those that have the least to complain about?

Scientology is Funny

"If you are not happy with life, you can find out why."
-Part of the test description

I took this test a while back and was impressed and astounded by the amount of slant in the questions and the number of totally oddball things they ask about. Things like this really bring out the English major in me. Here are some examples:

Do you intend two or less children in your family even though your health and income will permit more? Children is a countable noun, should be "or fewer."

Do you consider more money should be spent on social security? Better word would be "think"

Is your voice monotonous, rather than varied in pitch? Yes! I am monotonous!

Do you get occasional twitches of your muscles, when there is no logical reason for it? I have no idea what muscle twitches have to do with religion, I really don't

Are you normally considerate in your demands on your employees, relatives, or pupils? Who's going to say no, I'm an ass?

Do you find yourself being extra-active for periods lasting several days? Just like the muscle twitches

Is your life a constant struggle for survival? Absolutely, unless my next student loan comes through, I'll probably starve to death

Do you consider there are other people who are definitely unfriendly toward you and work against you? Just because I'm paranoid, it doesn't mean they're not out to get me.

Would you admit you were wrong just to “keep the peace”? See, "admit" implies guilt, like "confess." This question is really asking "Would you confess that you screwed up just to "keep the peace," which implies that you should keep your fuck-uppery to yourself.

Do you consider the good of all concerned rather than your own personal advantages? Implication: are you a selfish bastard?

Do you completely condemn a person because he is a rival or opponent in some aspect of your relations with him? Oh yeah, that's not loaded.

Are there some things about yourself on which you are touchy? If we're being honest, here, can anyone actually answer "no" to this question? Come on.

Are you logical and scientific in your thinking? Nope, I'm an irrational nut.

Is your facial expression varied rather than set? Because I always watch my face when I talk.

Is your opinion influenced by looking at things from the standpoint of your experiences, occupation or training? Don't we always base our opinions on our personal experience? I mean, what else would we base our opinions on?

Do you usually criticize a film or show that you see or a book that you read? Well, I am an English major... I even criticize personality tests. I must be stopped!

Would you like to “start a new activity” in the area in which you live? Point of grammar - the quotation marks here are trying to show an idom, but when did that become an idiom? Do they even know the defintion of an idiom? I think not.

Can you trust the decision of your judgment in an emotional situation in which you are involved? "the decison of your judgment" is the part I like the most.

Do you spend much time on needless worries? Weighted much?

Do you often ponder over your own inferiority? When did I become inferior?

And the results, ladies and gentlemen:
"Your personality test profile is now being sent to a professional test evaluator at the Church of Scientology listed below." Last time I got to see a graph that said I was slightly deranged and possibly suicidal, or something like that. This time, I see nothing. What a shame. The 200 question test is a little hilarious. It's a horrible test thanks to unclear questions, weighted language, and slanted connotations. But, good for a laugh on occasion. http://www.scientology.org/oca.htm

Politics Test

I found Camii's myspace page: blog.myspace.com/tyae, and took the same test she has posted. Funny thing, I'm only 1% different form her. It's a little scary.

Camii: 60/36.

You are a Social Liberal (61% permissive) and an... Economic Liberal (35% permissive) You are best described as a: Democrat (35e/61s) Link: The Politics Test on Ok Cupid Also: The OkCupid Dating Persona Test

Funny Story

"Hello?"
-Me

On Monday night, Keith called before he came over. About ten minutes later, he called again: "Yeah, I don't think I'll make it."

"Why?"

"I'm being pulled over by the cops."

"Why?"

"I have no idea."

A bit later, when he arrived at my house, I found out that a few blocks from his house, he noticed he was being followed by a large SUV, so he circled the block a few times. Then they flashed him to pull over. Apparently, someone called his car in and so an officer followed him. They asked why he was driving "erratically." He told them that he saw a strange car following him and the last thing he wanted to do was lead it to his girlfriend's house. They checked his lisence and registration, then let him go.

The best part is that this is the second time in the past three years that he's been pulled over just because. The first time was during a trip he and I went on with two of our friends. The cop said some bogus thing about how he thought he clocked us speeding, but wasn't positive it was us. Keith got taken back to the squad car, the Dianna did. Both were questioned, everyone had to show IDs, and we were there for a good twenty minutes. When I told the story to my brother's godmother and her husband (both cops) their instant reply was, "profiling." Kinda entertaining, but he does look a little rough and the big rings in his ears don't help.

Of course, the same thing used to happen to my dad who used to have very thick facial hair. In fact, once my parents were stopped on vacation both on the way there and the way home. They had their luggage searched and everything. Profiling is funny that way.

Interesting News from MSN.com

"The hit American movie “300” has angered Iranians who say the Greeks-vs-Persians action flick insults their ancient culture and provokes animosity against Iran."
-MSN Article: http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/17599641/

I find it humorous that people are getting so offended. For one, the comic the movie is based on was written in 1998, well before the 9-11 attacks - so, pre-hostilities. The movie follows the comic very closely, so it’s not like the film makers were sneaking subversive stuff in there just to make digs at the Iranians.

Besides, aren’t we missing the point that, though inspired by history, it’s well-known that the comic is by no means historical. It’s a fantasy, plain and simple. It’s bloody melodrama, people!

This one’s interesting too: http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/17599099/?GT1=9145

So, they threaten a teacher with dismissal because he does community theater and shows his bum. Okay, so? It’s not in any way directly related to his school, or his job as a teacher. Yes, he shows some skin, but The Full Monty is not porn. Get over it, people. This guy has my full support. If he loses his job, it will be a sad day for democracy.

Cell Phone Loathing

"I don't know what I was thinking, but I'm off today. Yeah. That's cool girl."
-Snippet of conversation I'm being subjected to in the library

Whatever happened to the good ol' days of "Quiet Please" in the library? It's bad enough that people must have cell phone conversations while they're dining at restaurants-

Oh, that's damn funnny. Another woman's cell phone just went off. That makes two people who answered their phones (ringers were on) while using library computers. I mean, come on. It's one thing when you're off in a back row of books and the phone's on vibrate, but that was just bad manners. The other funny part was neither woman had just a ringer, but rather annoying music. Please, use a bit more discretion.

In the Psychology building basement, right next to the communal microwave, is a professor's office. Said professor has a bulletin board up by her office door which is filled with anti-cell phone cartoons. It's a beautiful thing. One day I may write an ode to that bulletin board. If you want an idea of what this glorious board is filled with, just google cartoon + cell phone.