Though It's A Season Of Giving

It's wise to remember that not all things should be given.

Submitted by longtime Blahg booster Omer, I give you some home spun craftiness:

Source: http://kneelift.tumblr.com/image/105913546582

It's The Most Magical Time Of The Year

I'm thousands of miles from my family. My roomies have headed out for the holiday. It could be a sad story.

But . . . 

My leetle seester sent gifts that arrived back in early Dec.

Both my brothers sent me cards. One put in a ridiculous cash gift. 

I got home and my roomies had left a pile of brightly wrapped gifts on my bed: all in Crazy Christmas Red.

Two care packages arrived from my Moo. So now I'm listening to my very own Christmas CD while I assemble my new Charlie Brown Christmas Tree--my little brother's idea.

My room is wrecked because I had to make room for unpacking and putting out the presents. That's a pretty good problem to have.

I don't give a shit about presents. But this year I have been reminded of the awesome power of physical tokens of remembrance. I've also been reminded of the importance of human connection.

And that's how you end up feeling loved from across a continent. I've got music, I've got decorating duties, and I've got the knowledge that people out there have been thinking about me.

Gotta go, Johnny Mathis is singing.

He Said, "Bill, I Believe This Is Killing Me," As The Smile Ran Away From His Face

Today at work was not catastrophic. It was just more of the same soul crushing bullshit. It's hard when nothing feels better, when nothing gets better, when your exhaustion just won't quit.

I escaped to some outside benches for my lunch break. I tried to hide in a corner behind a trash can in the less crowded part of the area.

While there I had a really hard time not crying. It's not very often, but sometimes water just won't stop running down my face. Good think I wore the waterproof mascara today, for real.

Then a custodian wandered by to change the trash bag and he kept asking me what was wrong. He was trying to be nice, but why do people do that? "Is it your boyfriend, your parents?" I can't even remember all the things he listed.

I had to clap my hand over my mouth and run away.

Another stellar day.

You Laugh, But I Keep Telling You Fewls

They're calling this an allergic reaction. Bewl sheet, mayn!

http://edition.cnn.com/2008/HEALTH/conditions/02/28/medical.mystery/index.html?eref=yahoo

That's some bovine spongiform encephalopathy. That's some Cretzfeld Jakob's. That's some Mad Cow Disease, yo!

DEM PRIONS IS COMING FOR YOU

QUIT EATING BRAINZ, YOU FEWLZ

YOU BRING ABOUT YOUR OWN DOOM WITH THESE TRIFLING BRAIN EATING ZOMBIE SUPPORTING ACTIONS

Laugh it up, you kuru-mongering genocidal organ meat eaters. Laugh it up as you destroy the world.

(i'm right about those damn robutz, too)

Direct Quote From My Current Employer

"He doesn't own you. I own you."

Spoken to my face yesterday.

Blatherblahg offers no editorial or additional details at this time. We feel this one stands on its own.

Damn! We're In A Tight Spot

After moving across country and getting laid off, I've had several years now of difficulty trying to get work. I can count on one hand the number of interviews I've landed. Even when I've aimed low, just can't seem to work it out.

Naturally, not having a regular income combined with significant medical costs has left me quite destitute. I've burned through my sad little 401k, etc.

So, you would think accidentally getting a semi-decent job would be a boon, a benefit, a balm.

Instead it has been a misery.

I've been struggling mightily with this. As you can see, even on a day off my brain has me up at 5:30 a.m., my thoughts skittering after each other in an unpleasant and endless loop.

Why has it been so hard? I'm not sure I can accurately say at this point. I've spent a sickening amount of time trying to figure out why I'm so constantly offended, frustrated, and stymied by the people and the environment. It's so pervasive and so overwhelming that I've spent a great deal of time wondering if perhaps the problem lies with me. Maybe I've just gotten too old and grumpy. Or maybe, after all the shit life has thrown at me, I've finally just lost my ability to maintain. Shit, I've even wondered if maybe I never had my shit together in the first place and now it's just showing.


I'd like to point out that prior to this I've had a lot of success in the work place. It's been noted by multiple people over the years that I seem to have a knack for getting along with "difficult" people and making hard situations work. I compartmentalize pretty well, don't take things personally, and focus on end goals.

So what's going on? Have I just lost all my skills? Is this job so different and stressful that it's a uniquely terrible experience? Is this just another byproduct of having no thyroid and the constant life changes that accompany that?

Honestly, I can only get so far in my estimations before it all becomes too depressing to contemplate.

The people I'm working for offend me. From my perspective, they are not terrible people, but they aren't very good managers. There's an appalling dearth of basic social skills and awareness coupled with an embarassing level of self involvement. There is constant intense demand for efficiency and perfection, but no consistency in what is requested and no tools provided to achieve those requests. In fact, a sure way to get something wrong is do exactly as you've been instructed. And instructed is a strong word there, it's less instruction and more "the thing I told you about briefly but can't be arsed to actually define what I want so I'll just toss it out at you before I disappear behind closed doors and you are Not Allowed to ask me questions about it so get it done so I can reject it later on with no feedback other than: it's wrong."

All of which might be tolerable, if the office itself wasn't designed for failure. Or if not failure, then the sure maintenance of a sub standard environment in which no improvements are possible and nothing can really get better. Do your job correctly and use these tools and procedures, just ignore all the bits that don't make sense or are blatantly incorrect. Use these systems, but we get grumpy if you "waste time" by actually attempting the meager training.

Perhaps it's just my weird personal hang up, but when my ability to actually do my job correctly is compromised or impeded, I get really cranky and distressed. I'm not familiar with the work, don't know what I'm doing, don't have a model or guide, and often can't even use basic logic because these people are illogical.

So, of course, all of that is just my perspective. And I've spent a great deal of time trying to think, strategize, and rationalize myself out of the feelings my perception has created. I'm very disappointed in myself. Why can't I rise above the petty problems of a workplace? Why can't I employ some zen acceptance? Why am I letting this situation bother me? Why can't I make this work?

I haven't had a steady job in years. I should be glad to be making any money. I should be hanging in there to try and get health insurance. I should be grateful that I can take these paychecks and devote them all to debt payment. Right? I should be doing everything in my power to make sure I keep this job, right? I should suck it up and get over whatever this thing is. I should be practical.

I consistently try to understand the workings of things, to get to the core of feelings, actions, motivations. But I am beginning to wonder: at what point should one cease searching for explanations and simply react to the situation? Is there a point where the healthy response becomes "I don't have to know why it makes me miserable, I just need to know that it makes me miserable."

Even thinking that way feels like a cop out, a shirking of intellectual and emotional duty. But I am forced to consider this perspective when the misery of a situation has started to color everything. Perhaps I will never be smart or strong enough to figure out how to deal with this situation. Maybe that means I should just admit defeat.

All Ye Need Know Of French In One Sentence: Nous sommes calmes

Nous sommes calmes: We are calm.

It's pronounced: new sum cahlm.

New sum cahlm.

Nous sommes calmes.

Notice anything there? That's right. All three of those words end in an s. And not a single one of those s-es gets pronounced. Nosireebob! Not a one.

Vive le fromage!

My Life Is A Movie

It's just the wrong one.

The vile fluorescent light over my desk is flickering. Well, it's actually strobing.

You guys remember that scene from Joe Vs. The Volcano?

It's a lot like that.

p.s. does this mean i have a (gesture). . . Brain Cloud?