Doc Martin

Fear Not Drowning

Ultramundane.com

YOU'LL DANCE TO ANYTHING...

2000-01-22

Yikes. Very far behind. I've been trying to write a diary entry for the past week and a half, but I've been too distracted. Surfing the Web until late in the night, nearly falling asleep on the keyboard or in a book. Or too angry. Or in too much pain.

Pulled a muscle in my back earlier this week. Ow. Ow ow ow. It's still tender, but I can walka nd sit without yelping now. Needless to say this made me oh-so-pleasant to live with, work with, or be around. Much apologies to the Roommate, the Boyfriend, and maybe some people at work.

Or, maybe not. I've been particularly pissed off at work. Seems like the Marketing department woke up all at the same time, so I suddenly got a whole bunch of work after sitting on my duff for weeks. And one of our Design higher-ups is behaving...poorly. Giving vauge, unusual, or (IMO) just plain wrong design direction. Talking in weasel language all the time. Pissing me off. And I know that this person doesn't like my design style (simple = not sophisticated enough; bold = awkward and horsey), so I end up feeling like these are personal attacks, not just creative criticism. Which hits all kinds of buttons, down to the basic "I'm a fraud and will be fired soon" one. I resent the fact that anyone can make me feel like I'm not doing my job competently.

Nonetheless, I had my yearly review (OK, three months early, but still....) Excellent marks across. They still like me. They haven't said anything about my slacking off over the Holidays (I suppose that's seasonal and sometimes to be expected.) Nor about my change in attire. Nor anything about my heightened temper. So I let them slide too. Eventually they'll calculate the amount of Bonus we get and I'll have another check. ("Be a good capitalist...money good! Money good! Money better than pain bad!")

Who am I kidding? I've got a decent job in a booming company, doing something at least related to why I went to college. I get to play with computers all day, and I have a persistant high-speed internet connection. And I get paid well to do it.

Went with the Boyfriend and his friends to a beautiful winery for a Component Tasting Seminar. Got up terribly early in the morning to drive up to Napa from San Francisco. It was interesting and fun, and the room it was in was really beautiful.

I've been negligent in bleaching my teeth. Did I mention that my dentist had sold me a tooth bleaching system? Harumph. I hate announcing my vanity, even to an audience who doesn't interact with me. But after getting positive responses from the Boyfriend's friends ("Wow, your teeth look so much better!"), you'd think I'd be better about keeping it up. Well, I hate that my teeth hurt the next day. The big stains on my teeth, the marks of years of neglect, are gone. Now it's just the actual color. The yellow.

Big problem. I like coffee. A lot. I drink a lot of coffee. And I don't think I'll stop either. So as fast as I bleach (which isn't very fast, given the tsoris those little rubber tooth covers cause) I add the yellow back in every day. So I dunno. I'm afraid to go back to the dentist -- she'll tsk at me for not doing it at least once every three days or so.

A friend saw me in my top hat at the train station. He said I looked like "a young Elton John." Yikes. Time for a style review....Why can't I get people saying I look like a young...well, I can't think of anybody I'd like to be mistaken for. But someone besides a toothy queen with glasses and a funny hat. Hey, wait a minute... :-)

Been thinking about the game Toon, since the Roommate got me the rulebook for Christmas. That and a Shonen Knife CD, and you can see where my brain might be a little atrophied. No, actually, not atrophied...just...I've had too much sugar...

*Poof!* (Casey is replaced by a Japanese Cartoon Drawing of himself)

"Konnichiwa! Want to come play with me?"

(pulls giant umbrella from back pocket)

"Let's go beat down the normals!"

You can see how this has been a good stress relief for me.

Non Sequitor: People in vinyl track pants should be shot on sight, unless they're jogging. Then they should be run over with the car. The whole track pants phenomenon has reached epic proportions. Straight people are wearing track pants, so you know it must be unfashionable now... :-)

But the best thing I've seen in the past week has been the article in the New York Times about the study on incompetency. It's been the only hope I have -- that I'm actually a competent person surrounded by incompetence, or that I'm blissfully unaware of my own incompetence. Either way, it's not my fault. :-)

"If you're incompetent and you know it, clap your hands..."

<whoosh, whoosh.>

_Casey

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