arvTales

Es-posed tabbee getting ready for the coming week, like checking my online calendar, cleaning up the garbage on the floor, putting away the books on my bed, emptying my bag and updating my day timer.

Supposed to be.

But instead I'm typing away on my laptop, watching Pulse24, sourcing for a second laptop, listening to Buck 65, and reading some girl's myspace space (I hate myspace). She reminds me of an ex. Saw her on Google Video.

Got PL a nice pressie. I hope she enjoys it. I got meself a pressie as well. Something to help me with one of my Action Items! for fiscal 2006. As I was looking for something for PL at my local Chapters, I figured that I should hit the ground running on my 2006 Action Items! After all, I'm all for self-improvement. Okay, not really. Sometimes. Let's just say that I get distracted easily (see third paragraph of this entry for proof).

As I stood infront of the myriad self-help books I thought, man, there must be a lot of totally fucked up people in the world. There's hundreds of books on this aisle alone. After that brief commentary on the mental state of the majority of westerners, I eagerly searched for a book that might help me manage my time more efficiently or help me communicate gooder.

I picked up How To Talk to Anyone by Leil Lowndes because it was yellow and very bright. I read a couple of her tips and thought, man, this is exactly how I do it. I already know this shit. I totally agree with her insights. I put it back down to look for other books. After a few minutes I ended right back infront of her book. I picked it up again, read another tip and agreed once more. I started flipping through the book and ended up at the Notes page. Her first note was from Paul Ekman's book, Telling Lies. That did it. I had to get this book.

So now I'm learning how to talk to anyone. I'm a bit surprised thought that none of her tips suggest you to use "Hey baby" as an ice-breaker.

I'll update you on how things are progressing.

Yet another reason for me to fear snowmobiling.


Pretty sad, eh? I can't get it out of my head.

My brain is leaking.

A thought pops up in my mental picture screen and it gets lost in all the other thoughts that have come before it. I grab a piece of paper to write it down before it goes into the abyss with all the other unthought thoughts. Too late.

Damn it.

Today was a weird day at work. To use an old cliché, there was something in the air.

Most everyone seemed to be out of it. I wasn't concentrating well, everyone at West seemed to have a lot on their minds. RM was in and out, BG wasn't as happy, PL was late, and KB was very happy and excited. Like I said, things were weird.

AK's concentration was focused like a laser beam. SS was too. North felt empty even though everyone was there. AP seemed focused too. AS was either on the phone or typing away on her keyboard. She was extremely busy, even for her. FC seemed like she was stuck to her desk all day, and of course, HJ literally was.

All this seemed to be leading up to something.

At the end of the day, KL quit.

11h42

Daniel Powter's Bad Day is blaring on the iPod. It's perfect.

Not even half over yet and I really gotta say that today totally sucks smelly farts out of a dead chicken's ass.

What happened?

I opened the door and felt the cold Canadia winter air. I penguin-walked across the sloping driveway to avoid slipping. I slipped anyway. Hurt my ass really bad too. I went back in to sit down.

My ass still hurts.

So I go in late at work. Today was a weird day at work... More later.

Author's Note: Certain details have been changed to protect those who I don't even know. Also, it's been ghetto-ized for your enjoyment. Enjoy.

It's after lunch. I walk to my desk, look at the active WIP printout from yesterday and say "Li'l Miss Thang, are you still working on Mac's & Cossette?"

"Yes."

"How about that Swiss Herbal Buyer? How's that coming along?"

"I should be closing that soon unless the candidate wigs out."

"Oh yeah, who's the girl again... don't tell me."

"You just finished reading her reference..."

"Right, Bond, James Bond. I knew that. You know we still don't have signed agreements on those, right?"

"Well, we've also closed 8 jobs with them and we even have retained shizz."

"Yup, but I'd still be more comfortable if we had a signed piece o' paper before we close." I end the conversation off with a sigh and walk back to my desk.

Mental Jukebox: Goodbye My Lover by James Blunt

The room looked empty when I peeked through the glass. Of course, I knew it wasn't. Afterall, Fiona called me just a minute before from that very same room to, well, tell me to haul ass.

I was late for my own performance review. In my defense, Big Daddy was late too. In fact, I was waiting for him to get off the phone. I think I'll call him that from now on. You like that, BG? Or should I say, "Big Daddy."

I crack myself up.

Back to the story.

I really wasn't too sure what to expect. This is my very first review. I think I'm justified in feeling ambivalent. It helped that I had one weird ass dream last night.

I'm at a convenience store near my flat, saying 'Hi' to the owners. It's like I've known them for years. Then I'm suddenly in my apartment, reading the newspaper, I think. All throughout the page was "The Pas." My brain is great. Yesterday, I was doing the National Post crossword and one of the clues that bugged me was "The ___, Manitoba." The answer was in my head, I knew for damn sure. My brain just took a while to retrieve it, is all.

So that was in my head as I entered the room. "Hey hey hey, Fiona. Wassup, girly girl? Howzit hangin'?" Okay, maybe that's not exactly what I said, but it's close enough. We exchanged pleasantries while we waited for Big Daddy. When their tag team was ready, we closed the door.

Most of the interview was a blur. There were numbers thrown about along with some nice comments about my baking, and I think someone took their pants off. Maybe that pants thing was all in my brain but there definitely was some baking talk.

It was great to finally gain some perspective and focus my mind on something. To focus myself and set a career path.

I enjoyed my review. We should do this more often. Like annually.

It's when life is full that I find it the hardest to find time to contemplate and write. Socrates said, "The unexamined life is not worth living." The past few days I really haven't been doing any examining, even though I had promised myself to write something daily.

So I'm writing now. But about what? I just finished reading RRSP stuff. It's boring. I'm looking forward to my review tomorrow. That's exciting. I'm trying to remember what I wrote on my SWOT but it just ain't coming.

Okay. I should not have brought that up. Now I'm thinking of my damn review.

Must get it out of my mind.

Darnsornit.

Jane was right. Goodbye My Lover is an infectious track. It burrows itself deep into your brain, infecting your psyche, manifesting itself in your dreams.

---
If you live in Canada, today is Voting Day. Go out. Git. Vote, damn you. Vote.

I think I'm allergic to something. My face is all pinky and itchy and bumpy and itchy.

I'd show you a picture but I don't really like you that much.

JV told me not to scratch it but it feels so damn good!

F him. I'm scratching it.

Meetings, babies, interviews, running, sick. I am consultant-less. Does that mean there ain't no work to be done? NOOOOOO.

At least it's quiet.

A little too quiet.

Welps, can't wait to watch Serenity this weekend.

Not fifteen minutes ago, as I was gauging reaction from one of my artistic creations, GT said something that made the water I was drinking go down the wrong pipe.

Fuck, I don't even remember what the hell she said. It hurt that much! All I could think of was the pain in my stomach, the water gushing out of my nose and mouth, and the pain in my stomach.

What the hell made me laugh so damn hard?

Another late Sunday night.

Telly's on Ebert and Roeper, iTunes just finished playing Montreal Calling (again), and I'm looking at the mess all around me.

One of the worst things about being sick and aching all-over is, besides the pain, the feeling of lost time, of things left undone. I know there'll be stuff waiting for me at work. But it's the things that I wanted to do this weekend. This was the weekend I was supposed to start my Extreme Makeover. Get rid of the shite on the walls, pick a new colour, reorganize the furniture, put some new shelves... all that jazz. Didn't happen.

So now I'm writing about how it all didn't happen. T.S. for me.

Another thing about being sick, for me at least, is the being-out-of-it factor. Mentally, I'm not as quick or as sharp, so when I went out to buy some meds Saturday morning, I forgot 'em.

I want my brain back. Give me my brain back, damn virii.

"Show me when you're done."

"What?" asked my always inquisitive father.

"I asked JR to show me how dirty his carpet was. He took one of those sticky things that come with expensive socks when you buy them. I had a couple and asked him to take one to see how dirty his carpet was."

And it was hella dirty. I'm flashing back to the nineties, yo.

Anyway, back to the present. I'm staring at the sticky thing and it's full of hair and rolls of black cotton from, I can only guess, worn out socks. I think it's time for him to vacuum.

K, Colts and Steelers await my attention.

Vote.

Get informed and VOTE.

Go, git, go today or monday or on election day, which is the 23rd. Go, VOTE.

I don't care who you're voting for but if you live in the city it's a pretty easy guess, just go vote.

There's no lineup at advance polling stations. Believe me, I just got back from mine.

Vote.

Swearing is something I don't often do. This last month, it's become my thing. I've found myself swearing at every little damn thing. It's not because of Deadwood, I can tell you that much. That show has elevated cursing to an art form. It sounds like fucking Shakespeare.

I'm even swearing in front of my brother. I don't really give a damn about it since he ain't ten no more. He's a big boy who can handle a few fucking words. Shit, I mean, they're just words. If the intent behind them is bad then they become bad. If the intent behind them is benign then they're just fucking words.

Hell, it's not like I'm killing anyone softly with my words, killing softly with my words, killing them softly... with my words.

Shit, you'd think I could think of something funnier than that. Apparently my brain is fucked at the moment. At least I'm not shit-faced tonight. Man, it's thursday and I can't believe I ain't shit-faced.

So I'm reading this résumé and, you know, it's crap.

I mean, he calls himself an expert several times. Who does that?

Now, I know not everyone can write awesomely like me. I's is the best at writing good english, but everyone... I mean, everyone knows someone who's better at writing.

Look at Tiffany. She's getting Karen to edit her résumé, and Karen's crap! hahahah. Seriously though, if you know you can't write, get someone to help you out. If you think you can write, get someone else to edit.

It always helps to get a fresh pair of eyes on such an important document.

I'm reminded of an old quotation, "If you're stupid, surround yourself with smart people. If you're smart, surround yourself with smart people who disagree with you."

As AR would say, "Word."

Sexy legs!

Alright, it's 13h07 and work email server is still down. No email, no Calendar either.

I heard tell of tales from the Townhall that few folks found they were finally receiving emails. No such luck for me.

So I'm reading stories of random acts of kindness compiled by the Toronto Star.

Reading a few of these made my eyes swell up. Of course, I'm too manly to cry. I mean, RM, KB and PL are right behind me and I ain't gonna give no one no excuse to make fun of me. They already bash me about my facial hair (I still don't know what to call it. It's not quite a moustache and it's not quite a soulpatch. I call it an "arvtasche." It's the coolest. No, really.

I am feeling so damn unproductive today. On a plus note, I've finished 10 Regforms. Beat that, bi-atch! And the day's only half done! I'll have 20 by day's end. Woo HOOO!

Okay, back to work. There's still 5 emails waiting to go out. Come, Outlook... work! Oh, and there's like tons of profiles to do. Damn.

RM and I are on the subway, heading home. We were talking about something vaguely important when the operator announces in a loud, manly voice, "Sheppard is the next station. Sheppard." Right after that helpful announcement, the same voice, in a more dulcet tone, whispers, "Fernando." RM and I look at each other and begin to laugh our heads off.

What a great sense of humour that operator had. I wish more TTC employees showed more fun in their workplace.

~Fernando~

.rant.ahead.

Profiles really suck.

They take too long to write and they're only as good as the résumé they're made from.

I did three of them today. At an average of 45 minutes per profile, that's over 2 hours of work for me. Booooo. Profiles suck.

And the worst thing is the editing. The experts are right: people don't know how to write proper résumés. People suck.

Due to people sucking at writing résumés I have to edit. A lot. What would normally be a 30 minute job creating a profile becomes a 45 minute writing and editing job.

Okay, that's about the end of my rant.

One bit of advice if you're looking for a job: Learn how to write a proper résumé. All the experience in the world ain't gonna help you out if you don't know how to communicate it properly on your CV.

Happy Birthday, JR!

I still think we should have had a coming out party for the little debutante, but that's just me.

I hope you like your pressie. Watch out! It bites!

iTunes: Mariah Carey, Music Box

Didn't really expect to do this. Didn't really want to do this.

I'm planning on a huge overhaul of my living space.

Yup. I've a few ideas on what I want and where I want to go, how I want things to look. View my protopage for my current ideas. I'm sure they'll change dialy.

Right now I want a space that separates the living and working areas effectively. Thinking of getting a smaller bed too to create a larger dance area. Don't really know if I could part with my large queen-size (or is it double?). Anyway, it's big. I call her "Squeaky."

I'm sticking to this plan. New year, new project. New me.

Again, I'm forced to question why I'm up so damn late.

Just checked my schedule for tomorrow and it's looking pretty good. Three, possibly four, interviews and a lunch. Nice. Where to eat? I've given it some thought as I walked home today but I still haven't decided.

One thing about me is that when it comes to food, I don't know what I like. I know what I don't like. So I guess it's like Arthur Conan Doyle said, "When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth." Replace "improbable" with "expensive and far from the office" and "impossible" with "shitty restaurants." And "truth" with "tastilicious."

So why am I up so late? Hockey and work. Those two should never mix on a Thursdays. Also, Fridays are bad days to hand in reports. Very bad.

Dammit.

10h28 Okay, alcohol early in the morning = not so good. Even if it is encased in such a tempting chocolately delivery system.

Some time later...
I'm reading a guy's application and resume today... he was in the military for a decade or so... his reason for leaving: did not want to see action overseas.

So I don't really feel like going back to work tomorrow.

I look around my room and realize that I haven't prepared anything. My bags are half packed, clothes are still on the floor from all the changing I do (I change a lot when people come over... don't really know why, I just do).

Okay, I really have to clean this shit up. Hollup.

Update: Still cleaning.

A half hour later...

iPod is charged, bag ready, clothes ironed, bed waiting. Alright, done and done.

Should I shave? Maybe I should take a picture before I shave my moustache. I'll post it up tomorrow.

Google Map Mash-up of the GTA's Homicides, 2005 to date.

iTunes: Montreal Calling by Mobile

You're definitely doing some long-term planning at the moment, and the good news is that the plans you make now have an extra stick-to-it factor. Even better, if you keep your eyes open (or your phone turned on), someone will come your way who can give you an entirely new perspective on what's to come. With this comes a deeper understanding -- exactly what you need to mix into those long-term plans. This kind of enlightenment doesn't come along every day.

I am publishing this here so I can look back at it later and laugh at how so wrong it was. That or be scared by its unerring accuracy. Either way it'll be fun.