January 12, 2004
My ass does not need a prop.
Before y'all have fits out there, yes I know that saying is Weet's. She's duly credited down thar.
I have a lot of writing to do today. Normally, that would be a good thing. A lot of writing in a day usually means that I've received inspiration for an entry, or a new story line has made itself known to me (how long *has* it been since I've written a story? I need to get Storyteller going again). But today it's all about Accomplishments and 360 Feedback.
The 360 feedback is easy - I write about what project I worked on with that person, what they did well, and where they might be able to improve. I have enough of an opinion about the people I work with that I generally don't have to grasp for words.
As far as my accomplishments are concerned, I don't have a problem writing about the projects I've done over the last year. There's a shitload of them, and I'm really proud of my work. Proud at how much my knowledge of things that I used to consider to be beyond my simple little mind, have improved. But there's a reason why we've taken to calling these things "Brag Sheets". We're supposed to paint ourselves in the most glowing light, gushing about how we demonstrate Leadership and Quality and Discipline and Risk Taking and Blah Blah Blah. Associating each project with how big of an impact it made to the company - financially, processing time, quality, what have you. Me? Impact the giant that is AcronymCo? I'm just a worker bee, for crying out loud.
Still. I feel that I have some small writing skills. So I made myself glow, as much as my squeamishness at self-adulation could allow. If the Powers That Be buy it, maybe they'll make me CEO. Now there's a job I don't want.
That's part of my problem. I know better what I don't want than what I do want. I don't really want to get an EE degree, but it seems foolish at almost 30 to throw away ten years of industry experience. And that's pretty much my whole motivation for going to school. Because I might as well. Learning's good for you, and all that.
I think I'll need a bit more oomph in my caboose than that, if I'm going to get through all the math coming my way.
What I really want to do, I think, is become a Massage Therapist and Nutritionist. The first because it would be a fabulous job to have, being able to make people leave feeling better than when they came in. The second because I might as well put my health obsession to good use (whether or not I actually practice what I learn. One step at a time, here.). Unfortunately, AcronymCo doesn't reimburse tuition for non-technical studies. Which is a pity, because I'm sure the vast majority of the AcronymCo plebe population could use a neck rub and an apple.
Calvin and I talk about how one day we'll be able to live off of one salary, and the other person can go off and explore what they really want to do with their life. Then get established in it, and earn enough of a salary so that the other one can go off and do the same thing. Controlled change is an excellent thing. And it's also years away.
In the meantime, I'm staying sane with the daily grind as best I can. For instance, today I met Calvin for lunch - something that after this week will be a rare thing, since I start school next week. After lunch, I made a quick stop at home so I could pick up some CD's.
Even when there's nobody else in the house, I still shut the bathroom door.
If I don't come out of AcronymCo's drive and accelerate to exactly 53 MPH, I don't make the first light.
Gadget serenaded me this morning as I got ready for work. I counted five farts in as many minutes. Delightful creature.
I've been bidding on eBay for a TI-89 graphing calculator. I don't think I'm very good at auctions. But I don't want to pay $149.99 for a friggin' calculator, either.
I don't want to learn Calculus.
My back feels better. I'm beginning to go back to working out - light for right now (like, walking). Operation: Hottie Before 30 is underway. And the McD's I had for lunch is helping that right along.
I bought a new notebook and some pens in prep for school, and now my fingers itch to write on the first page. Virgin notebooks do it for me.
I either sing at the top of my lungs, or not at all. Which is why the music is always loud - I don't want to hear myself any more than anyone else does. Karaoke does not need a prop (nod to Weet).
Okay, so that last thing might need an explanation, for you two people out there who don't read Weet. Here's the history of it. Pepper your conversation with it! Become one with it! It'll be all the rage. We'll be watching some new Brad Pitt movie in which he says, "My tight ass does not need a prop," and we'll all be like, "Hey! That's Weet's! Where's the royalty love?".
(I am Queen of the Parenthetical.)
Favorite songs to sing at the top of my lungs: "One More Try" - George Michael ("If you love me, say you love me. But if you DON'T, just LE-ET ME GO-oh..."). "Shook Me All Night Long" - AC/DC. Any song by Journey (but "Separate Ways" especially). "Every Little Thing She Does is Magic", and "Every Breath You Take" - The Police. "Freedom '90" - George Michael. "Hero" - Foo Fighters. "Where the Streets Have No Name" - U2. "Why Don't We Get Drunk" - Jimmy Buffet. "What it Takes" - Aerosmith. "Hella Good" - No Doubt. "Your Body is a Wonderland" - John Mayer. And pretty much all the other songs that I know all the words to.
"What It Takes" is playing right now on my headphones. I wonder how my cubicle neighbors would feel if I busted it out right here? Nah, I'll just mouth the words. Even though it's hard. The sacrifices I make for society's sense of what's acceptable public behavior.
More Anthony pictures! Which most certainly do not fall under the heading of "nobody cares".
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©Laura Charon 2000 - 2004.