Working Girl

I am a working girl. I shake my money maker for a living, which as it turns out, happens to be a camera, which I don't shake as much as I gingerly transport to various locations to make pretty pictures for clients.

It's fun work, which is why I love it. I grew tired of crying at my desk at my last corporate job so I made a change. Best decision I ever made. That, and buying a juicer.

Now, just because it's fun, and not, say, curing cancer or cleaning up the Great Pacific Garbage Patch, doesn't make it any less important - to me. It's how I make my living and people tell me I'm good at it, so it would seem I'm on the right track.

I mention this because... Yesterday I watched an episode of the Rachel Zoe Project - don't judge me - it's fascinating to watch such a tiny, frail creature walk and talk like a real human.

I'm sure I watch her show for the same reason I like watching Kell on Earth, The City and one or two of the Real Housewives - women making their way in the world. I dig it. I've been a working girl for over 20 years - I identify with independent ladyfolk.

There is a point to all this... stay with me...

During the show, Rachel and her hubby are in New York for fashion week, having flown in a few days early to enjoy the city before the shows start. She gets a phone call from Naomi "Slappy" Campbell who's doing a charity fashion show and wants Rachel to style it.

Of course she's going to say yes - IT'S HER JOB. Her husband starts whining and carrying on about how he won't get to spend any time with her after all. She seemed to feel guilty about taking the job, stuck between a slappy rock & a whiny hard place, whereas I don't know if a man would feel guilt about taking on the work, or just annoyed at having a whiny spouse.

Now, if the tables were turned and HE had some "important" job and a client called needing his services, maybe Rachel would whine about it, but it would be dismissed as her being a baby and get over it honey cause daddy's gotta make a living so go shopping and buy yourself a hat.

I couldn't help but be annoyed by his reaction to her saying yes to a huge job, especially when her entire business depends on that phone ringing (and a silly reality show where she repeatedly says "major," but you get my point).

Except for not having my own reality show and never saying "major," that's pretty much how my business runs. I am dependent on someone deciding to pick up the phone to call and hire me. I don't (yet) have the luxury of saying No. What I said No to was a dreary 9-to-5 slogfest that makes me want to light shit on fire and stab people in the neck with pens.

Anyway... my point...

I get the feeling that, in general, working women still aren't taken seriously, or their jobs, by men. Like we're just playing Worky Lady but our *real* job is cleaning up the mess in the kitchen after cooking all the food. It's irrelevant what that job is, whether it's building rockets or playing with bracelets.

I say this because I've dealt with this first-hand. There are days when I am slammed with post-processing after shooting a large job. This is work that cannot be put off or done only between the hours of X and Y. It has to be done when it has to be done, which I can never predict, and that's how the job goes.

There was one time when I got the whiny "how much longer do you have to do that" response to me having to miss out on some TV to finish a job. Yes, I do have to do this now and I don't know for how much longer so you're going to have to put your big pants on and get yourself your own lollipop.

I'm sorry - that sounds shitty - but it was disappointing to realize that what I was doing wasn't taken as seriously as some other sort of job like, playing computer games. Turn the tables and you don't ever see me hanging in the doorway with a droopy lip wondering when we can go out & play. I'm happy to do my own thing until work is done, which, for the record, happens at least 75% of the time, because daddy's gotta make a living and I'm happy to let him make the hell out of it.

My point...

Boys, in my opinion, still aren't comfortable with girls saddling up and doing their own thing. Some may be - I think I know a few who are - though I wonder if they'd be supportive and understanding of the demands of their ladies' jobs and not get a little whiny if it started to cut in to playtime.

Of course all of this is based on the bulletproof scientific data of my one experience and the Rachel Zoe Project, which is totally major.

Snarktacular Wednesday

I had to go up to Sonoma this evening for a "dusk shoot," which I never enjoy, because when "dusk" arrives, I should be at home in my sweats watching the news or enjoying post-news reruns whilst eating my dinner.

But because I have to go, I went, at the peak of rush hour. I anticipated bad traffic and left early. Early enough to stop and get a sandwich at Whole Foods - the easiest thing to eat while driving (and texting, changing CDs and painting my nails).

Why is making a sandwich so difficult? How is it that only one sandwich in ten is made according to the order? I either get the wrong bread, the wrong meat, the wrong toppings - something - something is always wrong.

Tonight it was the bread. Instead of sliced sourdough, they used a baguette. Maybe it's just my wussy mouth, but I can't eat a sandwich on a hard roll without tearing up the roof of my mouth. So irritating.

Also irritating? Peppered roast beef. Who came up with this stupid idea? All I could taste was pepper. Are these ideas hatched in a food lab staffed with heavy smokers?

At the shoot, the agent followed me around from room to room the entire time. Like a nervous puppy, he hovered behind me during every shot. I wanted to smack his nose with a lead pipe rolled up newspaper.

Not any better was the hovering stager who kept asking if I wanted to move anything. If I want to move it, I'll move it. See these things hanging off the ends of my arms? They allow me to pick shit up and move it somewhere else - it's fucking brilliant - watch me do it.

In one room she asked me if I'd heard of a guy - a photographer she's worked with before - you know, because at night they round up all the photographers all over the county and put us all in one big room where we can't get into any trouble.

I told her I hadn't, but what I *should* have said was, "Oh John, the guy who takes all the great photos of naked children? I love that guy's work!" She continued and said, "I've worked with him in the past - he's pretty good."

That's great. What am I supposed to do with this information? I left my random chitchat diary at home and I've nowhere to record this exchange. Have you heard of not loitering in the room where I'm working? It would be super awesome if you could move your ass the hell out of the way so I can finish up this job and get the eff home.

But hey, if you want to pay double for an evening shoot that won't make your generic house look any different than it would at 11am and follow me around like an anxious chihuahua, to each his own. Good luck to ya.

Take Off, Hosehead

The universe is a strange, tricky lady. In the span of one week's time we went from David returning from 4 months overseas to him being laid off and now we're contemplating a move to Vancouver. Right now I'm just happy I can find my pants and put them on.

We're excited about the idea of relocating to the Great White North. Vancouver is a beautiful city - the clean, polite version of San Francisco with slightly better retail prices. Used to be a much bigger "discount," but that' OK - they make up for it with better manners.

We're not Bay Area haters by any means, but here's a list of things I wouldn't miss:

• The Eastbay Freeway
  
• Waiting in line for everything
• Gang-infested areas of Oakland
  
• Frank Sommerville
• The Nasty Nimitz
  
• Crapplebees et al
  
• Our shitty bitch neighbor
• Sourdough bread
• Hartzheim Dodge
• The South Bay
• Sacramento/the Central Valley
• Penngrove
• 580/101 construction nightmare
• Toyota Zone commercials
• The Raiders
• Crazy Neighbor Bob (who still hasn't left, even though the house has sold - INsane)
• Melpenis
• Bart
• Sirens
• Road rage
• Cherry bombs on 7/4

And here's what I would absolutely miss:

• My wonderful, terrific friends
• This incredible house
  
• Peet's Coffee
• New theaters right down the street
• Trader Joe's
• Encinal Market
• The SF skyline
• Louis' @ Ocean Beach
• North Beach Pizza
• Day trips to Sonoma
• Mill Valley's town square
• Highway 1
• Capitola
• Dave Morey & 10@10
• Dottie's True Blue Cafe

I'm sure there's more I would miss, but it seems manageable. It's a quick flight up & back.

I'm a Trucker!

Today I drove almost 200 miles, all in a day's work. From the East Bay into SF, then up to Marin County, then over to Lake Berryessa, then back over to Sonoma and finally home.

What I really need is a van I can drive with hand levers while standing up, running on a treadmill, 'cause my ass is getting the wrong kind of workout on days like today.

But I'm not complaining. Driving through beautiful countryside isn't the worst way to spend a day. And I'm finding all the clean, well-maintained pit stops in all the towns I visit, since my volvo wagon doesn't come with a loo.

So this is what I really need - a split-window VW van with a hot new engine that I can drive with my hands while walking/running on a treadmill, with a bathroom in the back and a lounge/work area in the middle for when I have time to kill between jobs. And a wireless signal. Who's gonna make it for me?

Smitten

I received a letter in the mail today that scared me at first, then it made me smile so big and laugh - it's one of the best things ever. I was overwhelmed with joy.

It made me realize how lucky I was to work with these folks, even if too briefly, but even luckier to become friends with them. They're some of the smartest and funniest people I've ever met.

So, for all the whining and complaining you've seen in this space for the past 2 years, I apologize. I know I've complained a lot - about almost everything. I'm obviously a big baby and want everything to be perfect all the time. And for the most part, it has been, but I've kinda had my head up my butt. I think it's finally reversing course.

Thank you D and M - you made my day.

Working for Uncle Ben

My other half joined the Family Lucas this week and is a producer on an upcoming blockbuster game. All that BS at his last job was a wonderful gift. Had that not happened, he may not have thought about moving on at this time, so, thanks guys!

We took a walk around the LucasArts campus last weekend and afterwards I told David it's been really nice and to write when he could. If I worked there I don't think I'd come home very often. It's a gorgeous place. Makes EA's "campus" look like a mental asylum, which it was some days, but mostly it was fun.

Our group had BBQ's in the parking lot with lots of sidewalk chalk and bizarre drawings; found giant blanket penises on chairs, courtesy of a fellow producer with an incredible gift for fabric origami; and created the [insert name here]-cam in the hallway so we could see when a particularly annoying product guy was on his way into our department; and then my favorite bit of shenanigans...

There was one guy in marketing who made it his job to ruin every day for me, to be a total pig asshole about everything, all the time. We used to call him Fred Flinstone because not only was he just as stupid as Fred, his head was just as block-shaped. One day I came back from meetings and told everyone what a total dick he'd been to me, again.

My coworkers were (and are) a fiercely loyal group, and if you mess with one of us, you've messed with all of us. They'd become as fed up as I was at how this guy was treating me and our group's role on projects. They consoled me and I felt better for having such good people around me, then I headed home.

The next day I came in and heard a wonderful story about Fred's sudden computer trouble. Fred came in that morning and fired up his machine and instead of seeing the classic Farrah Fawcett poster on his desktop, he saw a gorgeous, sweaty gay porn model wearing only a towel - over his shoulder.

And all of his desktop files had been renamed to things like NAMBLA, men_on_men, and so on. Things that would surely disturb this block-headed, homophobic, MCP.

Confounded by the state of his computer, he called IT to "fix" it. He didn't realize all the changes were cosmetic and he may have hoped IT could find out who played the prank. While IT combed through his files to see what was accessed and how, they found a certain pornographic story that had been accessed at the same time the changes were made.

When Fred realized his dirty little secret wasn't secret anymore, he backed off on the idea of lodging a complaint. But he did come by our department on the verge of tears to demand that our programmers be punished, which of course they weren't, because all they'd done is balance out the karma a little. It was one of the best days ever.

After he left we read his story - which we'll never know if he downloaded or tried to write - and it was so bad, we cried from laughing. I mean, if he wrote it, good for him for trying, but on your WORK computer? That was our Fred. If he didn't write it, whoa. Just because it's online doesn't mean it should be downloaded.

Too Direct?

Soo... tomorrow is my last day, and today I was asked to give input on a sticky situation they're trying to improve. It's only been a problem for 2+ years. Better late than ignore it forever, right?

But still, I'm happy to help. There's a huge advantage to solving the problem, and the solution is simple if you have the authority to make the call. And I love to make things better.

The problem is... primarily one guy. His boss, too, but they can easily be considered the same person, give or take a few things. That's oversimplifying to some degree - there are a number of factors contributing to the problem, but at its core is the unproductive behavior of one or two people.

The thing is, it's gotta be OK to stand up and say exactly what the issues are and how they might be fixed, even if that means saying a person, or a person's behavior is the problem. There comes a time when saying "we need to improve collaboration and communication" isn't going to solve the problem.

Why is there so much fear around stating exactly what (or who) the problem is? To use a sports analogy, if the pitcher on a baseball team decides he's also going to play shortstop, first base and manager, would that player be allowed to continue that shit unchecked?

Not a chance. The manager would step in and set him straight or cut him loose, because he has a job to do and if he's not going to do it, they'll get someone who will, and they already have good players working in the other positions. And to let him go unchecked destroys the unity and productivity of the team.

It's crazy that this situation has continued for so long, obviously a detriment to the company and its productivity, but if they finally end up fixing it, then it wasn't a total loss. Better late than dance around it for another 2 years. I wish them luck and hope it all works out.

Cat Power

I worked from home on Friday to go back through a 90+ page copy deck for a major site enhancement. The deck is based on almost 60 pages of wireframes and after the first pass I like to go back through at least one more time to review and catch whatever I missed.

It's a tedious, time-consuming process. It generally goes faster on the second pass, but it's a methodical thing that shouldn't be rushed.

I brought home a new set of wireframes, knowing they'd changed yet again, but hoped the changes would be minor enough that it wouldn't slow down the review process. I was mistaken.

A third of the way through the wireframes I came unhinged. They *had* been approved as final two weeks ago, as they should be before copy begins, but as always, there is no lock down at any phase of any project - ever. The review became all about finding minor tweaks in the wireframes instead of completing a thorough second pass.

I vocalized my frustration to no one in particular, since I was in my living room by myself except for the bird and a couple of cats. Nikita was napping in her kitty bed when I started mouthing off.

She got up and jumped onto the back of the couch, behind my head, and tried to creep down the front of me to get into my lap. I stopped her because I still had my computer in my lap, but she wouldn't be shoved away.

She was purring loudly and ended up nestled against my neck under my chin. She's never jumped on me and started purring before.

I think she was trying to take the wind right out of my lame sails. Why I let this crap frustrate me like this I don't know, and as she forced herself into my shoulders and under my chin, all I could do was laugh. She'd calmed me right down.

Ass End of April

Sure am happy May is here - April sucked.

A couple of weeks ago David was suddenly "reassigned" at his job without any warning or rationale, after five years of stellar performance and constant, consistent high praise.

The reason they first gave was that a few deliverables weren't on target. Deliverables he had no clear requirements for, nor any feedback to guide the direction, despite repeated requests for requirements and reviews.

The second reason had something to do with supervisory style, yet, he was not a supervisor. What's next - he was coming in too early and staying a little too late? What's the actual story kids?

I think what a friend said might be true, that it's becoming more common to work in companies run by people who have no clue how to run a successful business.

And without any time to process all this crap, his grandfather passed - not unexpectedly, though still sad - and he had to jump on a plane back east.

Today I went to move his car into the driveway and it didn't turn over. He left his parking lamps on for, I'm guessing, three days. I jumped it and drove it around for 45 minutes, but I'm not sure it'll be enough. He might light it on fire if it's still dead when he gets home.

And now I think Neo is depressed, missing his dad - I'm hoping that's all it is. He wasn't interested in his dinner, but to be fair, I didn't give them wet food tonight, which to Neo is what makes the sun come up every day. He seemed to perk up when I put his dad on speaker phone later on.

As my dad said, you never know when something might jump up & bite you.

Nothing Wrong With Shooting...

...As long as the right people get shot.

Got an invite last Friday afternoon for a mandatory, all-staff meeting first thing Monday morning. Last minute... mandatory... all staff... those are never good.

It wasn't about layoffs, but it was a re-org, though the re-org doesn't make much sense. They've all but dismantled the UE group and no one's telling us why.

It seems like no one really thought through all the details. When our (now unhappy) ID's asked about the new structure, they were told it was done to make their lives better, yet no one asked them for input.

What's really behind the re-org? Why can't we hear the whole story? Are we not adults?

So Happy To Be Back

Such a great day. Started off with a nice enough staff meeting, then I was pulled into a meeting with Mothra who was laying piles of eggs all over the office about pages that hadn't yet been posted live.

It's just such a joy to come into a meeting where the first thing I have to say is, "You have to calm down - seriously - please, calm down," before I can begin to repeat the same information I've already supplied four times before.

Mothra didn't think I was making her content a top priority. Never mind the fact that I cannot control the technology used to publish this content. It's like complaining to my boss that I still haven't made the city streets out of chocolate.

It's amazing how hard it is to resist the urge to stand up and wrap your hands tightly around someone's throat.

Only if I want to be forcibly escorted out of the building can I give into those urges. That day may come, but I need to take some stuff home first.

Then there was the kickoff meeting to build a tool there's no data or research to support. If there is, no one's offering it up, yet everyone sat there saying, Oh yes, let's build this thing we can't even implement with our own technology (or technology skills), even though we don't even know if anyone would use it or if it would provide any real value whatsoever - yes - let's - let's run right down the path to more spending and development hell because why not - what else are we going to do to fill the time 'til summer vacation?

Don't get me wrong - I love technology. I love widgets. But I wouldn't dump hundreds of thousands of dollars into widget development unless I knew the investment might be worthwhile. What I can't understand is why isn't anyone asking for data and research to support such projects?

Is it because it's not their own money that our business partners don't seem to give a shit about how much is wasted by poor planning and a lack of research? If the research is there, just tell me and I'll shut up.

Wouldn't it be better to be strategic and not just do what everyone else is doing, but do something even better? I probably should just shut up anyway.

Tee Em Eye

thanks istockphoto!

This morning at work I happened to walk down the hallway that passes the door into the men's room, as I've done countless times because it's a main route back to my desk.

I had the misfortune today of arriving near the men's room door just as a coworker in another group was about to go in, carrying a section of newspaper in his hand. I may not have noticed what was in his hand if he hadn't stopped to say hello as I passed by.

Question: If you know you're on your way into the men's room to mail a package, so-to-speak, why would you stop and say hello to anyone? Wouldn't it seem more appropriate to avoid all eye contact and simply proceed into the post office and take care of your business without involving anyone else?

I'm at work to work - I don't want to know that Bob Smith is headed into the crapper with the Sports page to sit down for a while. If you have to take a section of the paper with you, it's clear you're intending to spend some time in there, and I'd rather not have this information anywhere in my brain.

Not that women are immune to this biological requirement, but I can say I've never, ever seen a woman head into the john with reading material. It seems we aren't as public about what we're intending to do in there.

But I can tell you, there have been some truly disturbing smells in the ladies' room that make me want to loudly ask the offender to please plan around that event so that can be left at home.

We need a new office space with a more thoughtful design around the inevitable need for elimination. I don't want to see people going in and out of the facilities. That should all be down a hallway somewhere else - not on the same aisle with desks where people sit all day.

But whatever - that was the least of my issues with today. Everything seemed fine this morning, then after lunch I came back to a blood-spattered workspace. Someone's head had come clean off her body, spun around several times, then totally exploded all over everything in our area.

There's ongoing trouble with people being absolutely incapable of writing clear requirements, and when it comes back to bite them in the ass that they didn't include critical information, their first response is to blame my group for not psychically sensing this information.

This was all made worse by the fact that the person who supplied the requirements knew full well what was needed and somehow thought we would interpret another requirement to mean this other material would also be produced. How, we've no idea, as we've not yet completed our Miss Cleo Graduate Program in Psychic Requirement Reading and Interpretation.

Then this person had the good sense to escalate this problem to her boss who then slammed our boss who had to come tell us how we were not playing nice with the other kids and we need to keep wiping the asses of other people who can't take responsibility for their projects.

It's amazing that so many people can work at a company and even after lengthy tenures are unable to learn the same things we've been able to learn in just over a year. In short, how to get things done, or how to move a project along through all its required gates. Believe me, it's easy. It's a cake walk if you pay attention to what's going on around you.

But not only that, if people could just learn how to clearly communicate, this debacle would have never happened today. Why is communication so incredibly difficult? Are there special classes you have to take that most people missed? Can they sign up for those classes now? If not, fuck, bust out the stun gun they use on cattle at the slaughterhouse. Let them all sit slumped and drooling on their couches at home and let the rest of us keep moving.

The Password Is...

[in a whisper] c r a z y...

callllendar...
Rocket SHIP...
Gouuuda...
Cattt LITTTTER...
Dipity. Dooooo.

[things you'd find in Cameron's Tumi bag]

And after a giant laughing fit this afternoon while recreating favorite moments from Password and $24,000 Pyramid, I spilled coffee on my shirt.

I then tried to dab out the coffee stain with a damp napkin. It didn't work. Rather than walk around with a coffee stain right there in the middle of my, uh, windscreen, I thought it might be better to just cover it up.

We always have salt handy. So, BLAM. Salt. I mean, if you're going to have a stain on your shirt, or a stain that isn't quite gone and that part of the shirt is now warped from your attempts to remove the stain, and now it's worse than it was to begin with, why not just keep going.



I forgot it was there until later in the day when someone from another group came to talk to me about some wireframe copy - somewhat technical - and while he was trying to explain his thoughts on the matter, I noticed him look at my shirt and then a slightly puzzled expression came over his face as he tried like hell to stay on topic.

But you could tell his train was dangerously close to derailing. At the same moment I noticed that he noticed, I became riveted to his every word, hoping to increase the sense of pressure he might be feeling to not lose track and ask why the hell I had a salt packet taped to my shirt.

He managed to keep it together and upon subsequent trips to resolve the copy issue, avoided the salt area entirely and we had the matter solved in no time.

Jeff and I will need to pick up supplies for future stain masking occcasions. Like plastic flatware, paper plates, office-themed greeting cards, and some of those cafe table numbers.

New Work Week

Monday through Wednesday, and that's it. Weekend starts Wednesday night and lasts through Sunday night. I need four days off every week. Every. Week.

Not working from home on Thursday and Friday - those are part of the weekend, as in, Me Time. There's no "work" in weekend. Wend. Keen. Deek. Newk. But no "work."

Here's a question, why is ER still on the air? I thought the big shootout I heard about in last season's finale meant they were all killed. Even the hospital - shot dead.

What are they gonna do next? Put them all in a cruise ship ER with patients infected with smallpox that sails into the perfect storm with terrorists and a bomb on board?

Speaking of bad TV, how jacked is it that Mariski Hardtosay won an emmy and how is it Edie Falco wasn't nominated?

Can't believe they gave a statue to Alan Alda & not the guy who played the conniving, creepy president on 24. That makes no sense at all. Some of these must be charity awards.

First Day Back

Aside from a couple hundred emails to dig through, it was an easy eight. There's a ton of stuff to catch up on - stuff I'd hoped might die a quick death while I was gone so I wouldn't have to return to it. But no. Nothing ever dies there. It drags on and on and on and on and on and on until you give up any hope of anything ever really being done. Ever.

I spoke with someone today who is brand new to a particular process, and as I was describing the general chain of events, she kept asking, "So you'll send that to me using regular email?" I had to ask her what she meant by "regular email" to ensure I wasn't giving her bad instruction in case there was a special email I should be using. She just meant Outlook, or as she put it, "The Outlook."

This particular project was dumped on her right before its usual owner took off for two weeks. There are confusing elements to it, stuff that's never been clearly explained to me in all the time I've been there. It's not her, it's the project and the lack of clear documentation about any given system or process.

You have to know a guy who knows a guy who knows how to get in touch with another guy who will make a call, and in about a month, you'll get some additional info. It may or may not be what you needed.

But whatever. It was mellow. At least I'm not working with these people.

Talk to The Pad

Thank, Ms. Crafty, for my new alter ego, and for the picture that I stole right off your blog, since I never got around to shooting my own.

I like how she seems to be looming over the department from her perch atop the plant. Carrying a very large hammer. Back off, bitches!

How apropos that this nasty week ended with food poisoning. I made it home just in time last night - no thanks to the hot, overcrowded, slow bart trains, full of tourons grabbing a free ride.

I wonder if bart is pocketing whatever slush they can by shutting down the AC in the stations as well as the cars, while federal funds support spare-the-air days. Every train was a death trap with people crammed into every spare inch of space. I'd rather sit in traffic for an hour in my own car than deal with this much longer.

Anyway, thanks to Bistro Burger and what must have been unwashed lettuce in their chicken cesar salad. It coulda been the chicken - who the hell knows. I won't be ordering it again.

And all the cats are grumpy. This nonstop heat is ass. I don't mind it during the daytime, but fuck, please bring on the fog at night so I can sleep. Our attic fan is going to run for two weeks straight. Billy Martin forecasted a high of 80 degrees today. It's already 76 at 9:30. I think Billy needs to update his software.

Who wants to come over & dig a pool in our backyard? I'll buy the beer.

Reset

Maybe it was the Patron last night or the bacon at Sears. Today was weird. I kinda had a breakdown, to borrow the eloquent headline from this week's Onion.

It was all Jeff's fault. He asked me "are you OK?" and sure, I still have my hair and my lungs are working, but my eyes keep leaking.

I rinsed off my mascara with the natural cleansing power of tears and later on went for a nice walk. Had some sorbet. Got some sun. And now I'm planning a vacation. A real vacation. We'll find someone to fill in for me while I'm out so I don't come back to an avalanche of shit.

It's funny when you lose your shit at work. People treat you differently... they talk a little quieter and enunciate very clearly. They refrain from making any large, sudden movements, because at any moment, maybe I'll just start crapping my pants or peeing all over the furniture.

Maybe this is how insanity starts. One day you seem a bit more stressed than usual, laughing & crying simultaneously... and before too long, you're writing your manifesto in your own feces.

Flycatchers

I'm not happy about having a fly or two in the house, but I am enjoying the sound of four little feet landing back on earth after a giant leap into the air to snag a fly.

I love that the little one can't help the urge to hunt the buzzing prey, repeatedly rising from her lounging spot to run them down.

Coming home is the best part of every day. Especially after frustrating emails and being nearly attacked in a meeting for not being a mind reader. Had the person taken five minutes to have a conversation with me early on, all would have been handled in a calm, mutually-agreeable fashion.

Instead, I got to hear how what I provided wasn't at all what was expected, and how she was frustrated at having been over this four times already. Not with me, unfortunately, because if she'd spoken with me, it may have prevented her panties from being sucked up into her colon along with her head.

She seems to be forgetting that this project in particular has the entire company in brand new territory, and because it's not been well planned or thoroughly researched, we all have to work together to move forward, because no one has the script.

Thanks for the support. Thanks for thinking I hold the mystical key and am the one person who has all the answers. It's flattering, but you're really fricking off base.

Just a few minutes into the meeting, all I could think about was How can I get the hell out of here, NOW? It's so goddamn unpleasant.

All we do all day is fight. Fire fight, fight for the right thing, fight for someone to please make a decision, fight for time. Nothing is ever easy.

Today I tried to channel Charlie Sheen's character in Ferris Bueller - to not focus on what's happening or the people around me, but instead on myself & my own attitude. I tried. I really tried. By lunchtime the frustration took over. It's so overwhelming, it becomes impossible to put it out of your mind.

As a wise person said today, Tomorrow is another day.

Funday's Over

Very sad the weekend is over. Sad it's already mid-July and summer will be over in a blink. I hate the cold and hate the gray. I can't bear the thought of seeing days like today shelved for another year. I love perpetual summer.


Took a great ride today on many paths & trails - couldn't have been a more beautiful day.


Last night we enjoyed a delightful tasting at Hangar 1. Some of the best vodka I've tasted. Fuck the goose - we like this better and it's local. The people there are nice. They seem to love what they do for a living. Imagine that.


We kicked off the weekend with a nice breakfast out. Found a place with few fools and plenty of booths. Might become our regular spot, since every time we eat at Ole's my stomach hurts afterward, yet every weekend there's a stupid long line to get into that grease hole.

I expect it'll be a shitty week, starting with a redonkulous 3-hour meeting tomorrow morning. About what, I could not begin to tell you. But I can tell you it's going to be a giant waste of time with stacks of lame powerpoint slides.

Our group is imploding yet again. And if they don't get me out of the producer role soon, I'm not sure how much longer I can hold on. I want to stay. I want to stick it out & move on when I have things a bit more settled. But I'm not sure it'll work out that way.

I'm angry pretty much all the time now. All the shit that was lurking beneath the surface boiled over last week. It'll pass, but not right away. I want to go back & start over.

Left Early

Today I got up from my desk at 4:30, announced I was going home and I left. Everyone said a cheerful "goodnight" and I was out the door.

It was the first night in weeks I didn't stay late or go straight home to my laptop to catch up on two jobs. It felt wonderful.

Moments after leaving the building I was on an uncrowded train going home in bright daylight. After arriving home I curled up on the couch to finish my book with the Tour de France on the TV in the background.

It was great to be home so early in the day, but it won't be easy going back in the morning. I feel like curling up in bed to sleep for a month. After a good long cry.