2002-08-08 - 12:47 p.m.
And the Internet comes back up...

Thursday, the 8th of August; there are 145 days remaining in the year, 220 days behind us. That's 198 days of being employed here...

I didn't get a chance to post much last week, as you may have noticed. I still haven't got over that cold -- the gal that cuts my hair is an LPN, and she was telling me that colds last 7-14 days. Yeah, I knew that, but I seldom suffer with the symptoms that entire time ... this time, though, they're all there. Day 10 and counting. *cough* *sniffle*

Besides the cold, it's been moving week at work. Haven't had an internet connection here since last Wednesday; since then, it's been all packing, moving, unpacking. I had to go 'round and plug almost everyone's computers back together over the last two days. No fun, especially while feeling miserable. My knees and elbows are all abraded now from crawling under desks, my back aches, and I think I've filled my yearly quotient of inhaled dust in just the last week!

I also ended up using most of my available leave time during the week, through appointments, being sick, and leaving early when they ran out of things for me to do on the move days. Joy. No Hildegaard-visit for me this weekend, I guess ... Damn! I need to call her. And I missed the party for SOR and Bioboy too. Bad Shell. *sad look*

You know, I had my 2nd appointment this week, and the Dr. said that he's doing one more week of questionnaires (this time for other folks) to be sure, but he's going to diagnose me as AD/HD, inattentive type, plus dysthymia. Dysthymia means chronic low-grade depression. (Low-grade, as opposed to the soul-crushing serious depression that curled me up junior year in college).

I wouldn't have guessed about the dysthymia; I keep marking it up to general frustration and not fitting in where I am. But I guess if I haven't been lastingly happy in years, well, there you go. And the descriptors all fit to a T. I won't take meds for it though; if I fix the frustrations, it'll go away, since they're why I get depressed in the first place. Still, it's something I could tell my mother that she'd understand, where she wouldn't the AD/HD. She's got chronic depression too, after all.

Well. If I end up staying here until November, I'm pretty guaranteed of a job in McMinnville then, where my brother and cousin work ... I'll think about it. In the meantime, I'm still checking the Classifieds. There have been enough instances of worker-supervisor incompatability this last week, several per day, to make even the most patient of persons wonder what the hell is up. I can't stay. And I won't accuse, when I leave, since it's not really her fault either. But I better not get black-marked on the way out.

Here's how I'd like to put it: "I'm sure you're aware that this job does not play to my strengths. I enjoy working here, but I think it might be in both our best interests for you to find a more compatible assistant." Exit, stage left.

It's not that I *can't* do the job. 149 IQ, hello. But it is so not me, and the mind-reading style of assistantship is very, very beyond me. I don't know how to please someone who expects things of me that I'm not aware of. I don't know how to do my best for someone that looks over what I've done and picks out the mistakes, then gets irritated at me for "taking criticism badly" and "getting [my] feelings hurt". Low praise unless something is abso-fucking-lutely perfect.

Maybe from her past experiences, things have always been done a certain way. And I get that. But there's a vast difference in our ages and eras, and hello, it's not my fault I've not been taught that certain way. Nor is it a huge fault in me that I haven't asked questions when things seem perfectly straightforward, and turn out to be not. What part of "didn't occur to me" is unforgivable? It just didn't. That's not something you can anticipate and change!

Anyway. Enough of the arrgh.

I should perhaps mention now that I've found another fandom to suck me in, hook, line, and sinker. Hee. Be warned; now that my Buffyverse gushing has died down to tolerable levels, I'm about to dive head-first into Stargate SG-1. It moved to the Sci-Fi channel this summer, which we get, and they're going to start re-running the old episodes, every weeknight, starting in September. That's how I got into Buffy -- reruns started on FX last September.

What is this with me encountering a good show only after a major, major character death? At least Buffy came back; Dr. Daniel Jackson probably won't. And since I've only seen one episode with him (6th season "Abyss", as a ghost) it's probably silly that he's already my favorite character. But, hey; the movie Stargate is one of my favorites of all time, and even just having seen the movie and "Abyss" you can tell that's the same character. That's impressive. Two different actors, eight years apart, and they're both so very Daniel.

Also, I suppose, given my Wesley Wyndham-Price admiration, it's no big mystery why Dr. Daniel Jackson appeals to me. *grin* Brilliant men both, highly educated, linguistically talented, emotionally sensitive, underappreciated, loyal, difficult childhoods, and involved in careers that the "real world" would completely discount. Also both glasses-wearing, six-foot-or-so, lean muscle, brown hair, early-mid thirties, and hey, I think they both have blue eyes. Ding! We have a type. *laughing*

I do hope they bring Daniel back at the end of this final season and for the SG-1 upcoming feature film, but if Michael Shanks really had to move on, I wish him well. Just so long as I get to drool over him in early SG-1 episodes ... and be irritated with Jonas Quinn on his behalf in the new ones. Sure, I'm not coming in with the "Meridian" baggage that most Daniel-ites hold against Jonas, but no new character should just assume so easily the role that a specifically trained, very special man was irreplaceable in for five years. After all, sans Daniel, there never would have been a Stargate.

Anyway. Enough for now. Most go look busy. *waves*