Voices Carry

From beyond the wall is a voice, an annoying voice, drifting past gray cloth and darker gray metal

supports. Laughter and stories and non sequitur abound. I look around my area at others who also look up at their walls to the voice, and I recognize that I’m not the only one in my opinion. I clack away on an overly-formed plastic keyboard, overly crappy, in an attempt to drown out the voice. Yet, the almost bibulous chirping only gets louder in retaliation. As if the voice insists that, ears bent, the office absorbs all words spout out across the room. A sort of annoying siren song that would turn ships around and encourage travelers to find another path. The problem lies in that I’m unable to steer past or around. I’m glued to a chair, and the voice’s flows out and talks its way in. Like an elderly man in the elevator going up the Sears Tower he cannot escape it. You have to sit, nod your head and attempt to create some kind of white-noise in your head to defeat the sound. I’m not so sure that works for everyone; as I look over the woman to my right is looking up again toward the source of the voice.

Pithy conversations these are not. As the voice continues to pontificate to whomever sits on the

other line, the receiver probably not at all focused, I wonder when it’s next telephone-monologue will be. Probably in another few hours. As it stands right now the voice is, in a round-about way that can rival a trip around the Earth, wrapping up it’s conversation, and preparing to return to work. I suppose I should follow suit in at least one of these actions.

Tea’s been on the stove for an hour

I’ve been running on auto-pilot for the past few days; like dominos in a path. I move because that’s

how my body wants to move. I think thoughts that I’m not sure have a point. They’re menial and primarily about things at work or paperwork on my desk at home. Nothing of any consequence has presented itself, and that’s pretty frightening. Hopefully I can clear out my head before Friday, or I’ll be thoroughly screwed.

388 Words, not including this title

or any html code

Generally I’ll write something while I’m supposed to be doing something else. For some reason

that’s how I work. It’s sad, I’ll agree, and I can’t say I’m proud of this behavior, but it’s never the less the truth. Right now, however, I have nothing to do. This leaves me in a conundrum. If I have nothing to do, meaning that right now I have no tasks that I am to complete - unless I go around and act like a sucker asking people if they might have work for me to do – in this immediate block of time (actually any time), then how is it that I’m able to write? It’s an interesting question I raise of myself. As I stare at this computer screen (I include this line in so many blog entries its truly mind boggling) and notice that I have a significant amount of “wordage” on this page (152 words before I added this). Things seem to be flowing freely for some reason. And I have nothing to do. My rational for this is that I’m writing about how I shouldn’t be writing. It’s a reverse psychology of sorts. An exercise to force myself to type something out, regardless, ignoring my lack of work. I’ve, in essence, tricked myself into the process. And I like it. I’m intrigued by the idea that I am able to construct sentences and ramble on for a while (247 words before I added this) without my normal motivation. Actually, the real fuel, that I can think of, for me lately, besides starving work, has been the move and my interview next week (Oh, come on, you knew I would start talking about both those things.), but that will not be the subject matter of this entry. It will simply be a glance, a short (short) tangent taken as this thing continues meandering.

I’ve been told that there will be a large project for me next week sometime. They’re not sure when

it will be ready to be tackled. Hopefully sometime soon. It would give me some fuel. I’m sputtering out. Leaving to hang out with Sara, whom I haven’t seen in almost two years (damnit!), for the night in a few minutes. I suppose, for the time being, I’ll just search the net for airfares, apartments and …aphids.

I’m too nice for my own good. So, I’ve offered my chair up to a few people, it was brand new and comfortable as hell, knowing they could benefit from it more than I, and they’ve all said no thanks. I’ve asked, they weren’t interested. Then, this manager comes over and tells me about this project she wants me to take care of. I say sure, get all the information down and wait for her to send me all the files that need to be converted to html. Then, she notices that I have a new chair and inquires about it. I tell her, she’s pregnant and would need it, that she’s welcome to it but she declines my offer. That’s fine. I get to keep the thing. Hell yes. Oh, wait, then she comes back with an old, extremely crappy chair that is practically falling apart. She tells me that someone in the pod over has a bad back and she’s going to go give him my chair. Now, she didn’t so much ask me if it would be all right to trade chairs as much as she told me. As I said, I’m pretty open to helping people out, especially people with bad backs, but don’t demand something of me that I don’t have to do. So now I’m sitting in a terrible chair that’s hurting my back, that leans back near the ground when you sit in the damn thing. It’s great.

There are starts and stops

The rain of last night let up and yielded wet snow this morning. Drive this morning wasn’t too hot

because of it. I’m here again though. Staring at this screen trying to write something before my boss gets here and tells me what to do. Looking around I notice scraps of paper that need to be thrown away, scraps of notes from small tasks I’ve had to work on each only taking a few days, at the most. Nothing long term here, although I’m told by managers that there will be positions opening up in the future, but nothing seems to compare to the position in Dallas. I know I talk about this a lot. I rationalize my departure and map out how I would like things to end up even though I know full well it’ll be a lot harder than mental mapping can allow. That’s ok though. I think. There is a list of reasons, not including the buzzing center light over my computer, for why this would work. For others, it will shut me up.

I’m not sure when it all started, probably a few years back. I would talk about how I really wasn’t

happen where I was at the school, spiritually, in relationships with others. That rot gut feeling that there, not might be but, is something better in store. Anticipation is a terrible thing sometimes. So can the imagination be if one doesn’t focus on the current more than the could be. It never stopped causing problems; I never stop causing problems. Wondering would lead to falling further behind, and then I would just be dragging myself across the floor after a short time. That probably fits under an odd category. A cop out, perhaps. But I’m tired of thinking about what could be and having that take over. I’m ready to pave my own, and see what happens. I just hope I can make it that far with out crumbling to be swept up in what was or again with what could be.

That’s confusing.

I have been granted an audience

Yesterday, around three-thirty or so, I received an emailed response from Heather, the woman from the AHA (American Heart Association) to schedule an interview. I immediately responded and we’re now in the process of deciding on a time of that day. Should probably call up my uncle to see if he knows of a car I can borrow for that day, Friday the 21st of this month. Not much else to say. Neck still hurts. Eyes are dry and burning this morning. No insurance. Not enough sleep. I’ll try to write something later.

Each cubicle has been reduced by one panel, from four to three. They’ve also added five very large filing cabinets in here. I don’t really have much room. Maybe I need to get one of those posters with an ocean view. Yeah, that ought to do nothing whatsoever. Uhhh, nope. Nothing to do. Sitting in this chair, waiting for my boss. Sucking on a lozenge. Neck hurts a lot, back not as much, breath like green tea. A family friend suggested that I submit some poetry to this magazine. Haven’t written any in a couple years. I’ll probably do it anyway. That’s what it’s all about, after all, rehashing. Weee…I need a nap already.

An aside:

They moved me over a cube. I don’t have a window view. There’s this crazy echo in here. One of the lights, with its flickering and buzzing, makes me feel like I’m in a subway. It’s conflicting senses in here. Very strange.

Feats in snow

So far there’s been about thirteen or fourteen inches dropped near my house, a little less in other

places. Plows have decided that my street is less important than others so its only been plowed once and that was a day ago, when the snow was a it’s halfway mark. Needless to say, there’s a hell of a lot of snow sitting on the street I live on. What’s worse than that? Why, my neighbors being douchebags, that’s what. See, there’s this family who lives down at the end of the block and another that lives directly next to us, and their friends. They hang out, have parties together and the husbands love the drinking. Why does that make them douchebags? Ah, well, they’ve decided to help each other out when it comes to the snow. I was out shoveling the driveway, to my back’s chagrin, when I notice that end-of-the-block neighbor is coming down the sidewalk with his snowblower. “Nice,” I think to myself, that makes my job a lot easier. Right. Well, it would have if he hadn’t stopped right in front the driveway, turned around (while staring right at me) and went back the other way. Woo! The fun doesn’t stop there. Later that night, next-door neighbor is out snowblowing his driveway and the sidewalk, and he decides to take care of the whole sidewalk up until my driveway. He went toward our house, stopped near the same place as end-of-the-block neighbor, turned around and when all the way to the end of the block. Now, I’ve always known that this guy is a jackass. Yells at his kids, his wife, tells his kids to go out and “find something to do” while he and his wife watch “adult movies” (which is what the kids call them), and piss us and the neighbors on his other side (the Daniels, our friends) by making bawdy comments. This just made me angrier. THEN! This morning, as I fumble around with a shovel to clear the way for my parents and I to get out (which included shoveling the street, thank you snowplows) I look over to see that end-of-the-block neighbor, giving my next-door neighbor’s driveway the one-over with his snowblower. He looks over at me, straight-faced, and continues to finish and go right back down to his house.

Am I over-analyzing this?

They need to cut out the “Best” whatever crap when it comes to music awards. We all know that it’s “Most Popular” or “Highest Selling”. Be honest, damn.

Revised

I just found out that my resume has been presented to the director of the publications department. The message seemed hopeful. We’ll see what happens.

And now begins the waiting game…

Ohh, the waiting game sucks, let’s play Hungry Hungry Hippos

My revised, and revised again resume and coverletter were sent out to the American Heart

Association yesterday afternoon. Mike, my boss and the guy who helped to give me contact information for people in the publications department down there and provided his services in the proofreading of both my resume and coverletter, told me this morning that the email went through. Told me that Heather, the publications department manager, received the message and would get back to me fairly soon. I sit here in the “PediaLink” conference room, stacks of papers to be compiled and bound at sitting behind me but standing before me, scared of what may happen. What will her response be and when will she respond? Patience is easy to talk and boost about but when there’s a life-changing situation lingering things become a little hazy. There’s work to be done, insurance paperwork that has yet to be filed (primarily because the people at the ICHIP Office are stupid as hell), bills to pay, and over foot-and-half of snow in my flatbed.

It’s this type of situation, ones were I can visualize and nearly obsess over how things will be if

something happens that tend not to work out. My hopes end up dashed, and I fear that may happen again. I may receive a message today or tomorrow saying that the AHA wasn’t impressed with my resume and don’t want to go through on an interview. Then again, things could be the inverse. I could board a flight for DFW Airport on the 21st to interview with them on the 22nd. Check out apartments that weekend with Payam and plan out our furniture needs depending on how well the interview goes. I’ll be nervous regardless. From now until I’m either rejected or accepted (even after that, in fact) I won’t be hungry and my sugar levels will be erratic. It’s hard not to have your hopes up when a change is not only wanted but necessary.

God save thee pompous Yankees

From ESPN.com in reference to Arizona receiving Yankee prospects in the Johnson trade:

“Don't worry, though, Yankees fans -- Cashman prevented the Diamondbacks from taking unfair advantage of Steinbrenner's well-known generosity. ‘We'll get the players back if they wind up being any good,’ Cash promised with a wink.”