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He’s a Lab and I’m a Mexican!
Thursday, December 06th, 2007 | Author: Erika

Every so often, when I stop to think about it, I realize that there are a lot of really funny things that happen while I’m out walking the puppy. I relay these to Wes when we get home but this morning feels like a good time to share a couple stories that brighten my day almost as much as that first cup of steamy coffee.

About once a week Doc and I pass by an older Asian couple while we’re out walking. This couple is remarkable. They both look to be either in their 60’s or beyond but every time I see them they are jogging. In unison. Their sneaker-clad feet hit the ground at the same time and their arms move back and forth in identical motions. These people run in an opposite loop from the route Doc and I usually take so we pass them twice every time we see them. They are mortally afraid of the dog, going so far as to cross the street to avoid us, but I bow my head a little and nod and they smile and wave and we go our separate ways only to reunite at the other end of the loop. Besides the jogging in perfect unison, what really makes this couple special to me is that the man is always jogging in a leisure suit. He’s always wearing khaki slacks, with tennis shoes, and a button down shirt. I imagine he starts off his exercise wearing a blazer but by the time I see him he’s carrying his blazer draped over one arm. Just picture that in your mind for awhile. It shouldn’t surprise you, then, when I say that seeing this couple in the morning makes me smile all day.

Another fun occurrence for Doc and I is walking by the passels of kids waiting for the school bus in the morning. I catch snippets of conversation as we walk by and they are often very, shall we say illuminating? Unfortunately I can’t remember any of these conversations right now but I do remember the one from this morning. Doc and I were walking by a group of kids next to our house and I heard one of them comment from across the street, “That’s a big German”. I really wanted to call back, “He’s a Lab and I’m a Mexican!”. I didn’t, though, because I couldn’t be certain that he was referencing either myself or my dog. Also, it’s not my job to correct all the incorrect phrases uttered by the people I pass every day (though Wes could argue that I don’t always remember that very well).

Walking the dog in the early morning is not all fun. It is very dark outside at 6:30am and there are some majorly creepy dudes in the world. I take comfort, however, in the fact that as Doc gets bigger he looks more fierce (there’s nothing less threatening than a Labrador puppy). Though he is more likely to lick an assailant than injure one, a lurking creep doesn’t know that and so while I’m with my big bad dog I’m safe. Perhaps I should start calling him “Killer” while we’re walking (I think calling him “Vicious Canine With A Temper Who Could Totally Eff You Up If You Mess With Me So Don’t Even Think About Coming Close To Me You Jerk” would be a bit much. It would get the point across, though).

Category: Doc Holliday  | 2 Comments
More of America to Love
Wednesday, December 05th, 2007 | Author: Erika

I read an article today in Newsweek about how fat may be the new normal. The article evoked a couple different responses from me. One was, isn’t the majority of a population always considered normal? If the majority of the American population is overweight/obese, then is being the proper weight or underweight abnormal? I’d really like to go revisit some of the terrible bullies from my past (who, incidentally, were fat now I come to think of it. Is there no better definition of hypocrisy? I wish I had my acid wit back then, or maybe Wes’, because I can think of some really choice things to say to fat kids who taunt other fat kids) and say to them, “Now who’s a weirdo, sucka!”. Ahem, as I was saying, what an interesting paradigm shift.

The article goes on to explicate that studies have shown a correlation between people’s weights and the weights of the people they hang out with. People who associate with heavy people tend to be heavier and have less of a problem with it. As more of America gains weight, is it possible that the idea of being overweight is going to change as well? Will the notion of being fat become relative to the “normal” population? I think that’s fascinating.

I’ve read about the fluctuations in aesthetic standards of beauty throughout the years but perhaps it’s possible that we are witnessing the start of our very own American shift. Perhaps what is now considered overweight will never be commonly accepted as beautiful but I am interested in how that will affect our cultural view of weight. It’s possible that this is our cure for living too long.

If people are more accepting of being overweight than they were 10 years ago, I am intensely interested to know what comes next. Maybe schools will become less hellish for kids who carry a little more weight than their counterparts. I severely doubt it (owing to my own brush with school-kid-tainting Hell. My saving grace was my height. I was pudgy but I was tall and the sheer intimidation factor was usually enough to keep would-be antagonizers at bay. Except for the aforementioned hypocrites. They lived next door).

I am not sure what I think about this, to be sure. The rambling nature of this post probably made that clear to you awhile ago. I guess the idea of a paradigm shift, particularly in the collective attitudes of people who are considered by society to have culturally undesirable (even abhorrent) qualities, appeals to me. Perhaps being overweight doesn’t have to exclude you from feeling satisfied with your life.

Maybe now all the social deviants can get on with their bad selves (meaning, you know, the people who still think that 80’s hair bands totally rock and the people who actually enjoyed the movie “Alexander”). Now, if we could only get the furries and plushies to come out of hiding we’d really be in business…

Category: Opinionated much?  | One Comment
Should I Put “Nerd” On My Resume?
Monday, December 03rd, 2007 | Author: Erika

Hot on the heels of another weekend gone by, I sit here at my desk on a terribly routine Monday afternoon watching the storm dump buckets on the commuters outside. It’s been a stormy day inside, as well. After the excruciating debacle on Friday, I went home numb and in shock and incredulous about what had just happened to me.

The weekend brought little relief. Doc needed to be closely monitored (lest he lick his stitches out) and that meant he got to clean the house with me. I have discovered that my dog has a close affinity for bleach and Windex. Whilst cleaning the house the power went off for about 5 hours during which time I thoroughly lamented the fact that I had one item left to clean: the carpet. When the power came back on I was relieved and able to finish vacuuming before we headed off to Wes’ brother’s 30th birthday party.

I was still in shock, though, and felt very distant throughout the whole event. The Sunday sun arose and climbed high and shone onto a white landscape glittering with about 5 inches of snow. When that sun disappeared behind clouds and rain started to fall I was silently grateful for the fact that the snow was going away. It’s very frightening to be snowed into your house, with the power off, with no food. I finished my Christmas shopping online (with the puppy by my side!) and prepared for dinner. Our friends arrived right on time and we had a great evening (my crème brulee was perfect!) and I really started to feel human again.

Upon waking up this morning, however, the stress and dread that lay dormant during those few happy hours last night rose again and gripped me like the flu. I came into work on time and went through all the meetings that Monday has to offer. There have been several skirmishes today but for the most part it has been very quiet between my manager and I.

I did converse with my other manager, however, about how The Evisceration went and how I felt about the issues we were discussing. My therapist (whom I met with today) all but gave me permission to be bold and so bold I was. I frankly told him that I was not sure if this was the job for me. I told him that I liked both him and his wife (my other manager) very much but that I was not sure if I could give them what they required of me in this role. He appreciated my honesty and asked me to think about it and let him know.

Now that the proverbial cat is out of the bag I really have to think: is this the right job for me? I’ve thought about it long enough to know that I’m not leaving because this is a bad job. Rather, I’m leaving because of a poignant and decided difference in values. I simply cannot give my life to this job and I love my freedom too much to devote more than 40 hours per week to it. To some people, the opportunity to learn, develop, and grow would be very appealing. I’m not looking for that, though, and that’s why this may not be the best fit.

In all my wildest daydreams I imagine myself working from home and writing. If only I were getting paid to blog! Now there’s a job description: we are looking for someone to blog from home. This person is responsible for wearing SpongeBob slippers all day, drinking coffee as often as possible, and writing whenever inspired. The person in this role must spend all day looking on the Internet for inspiration and it is expected that this person develop a large expertise on a plethora of unrelated yet interesting things.

Seriously, sign me up.

Category: Blogging and Geekdom  | Leave a Comment
Knock Knock, Winter Calling
Saturday, December 01st, 2007 | Author: Erika

Here we are, winter has officially started. I have no idea when winter “officially” starts, but for me it always begins with the first snow. Today was Doc’s first experience with the cold stuff and he was very excited. He kept snuffling at it and when it went up his nose he would snort it out and start over again. Silly puppy.
He looks so skinny in these pictures! We’re not starving him, it’s just that he was only allowed to eat 1/4 of the amount that he normally eats because of his surgery yesterday. Don’t worry, when he came back inside we gave him a nice big breakfast. As you can see, he was really feeling fragile this morning. Ha! He’s acting like his normal Doc self. He whines every now and then but he’s running, jumping, and playing (exactly like we’re not supposed to let him do) and generally being a crazy pup. The vet says he should be all healed up in 10-14 days. I give him 5. This dog is unsinkable.

Category: Doc Holliday  | One Comment
WhuPAH!
Friday, November 30th, 2007 | Author: Erika

We heard back from the vet recently that Doc is all done (they called it “The Procedure” but you know they just wanted to say “Yep, no balls all done”) and is recovering nicely. Apparently he’s sitting next to the technicians and is weaving back and forth and acting drunk. Silly puppy. We get to bring him home tonight after 5pm and hopefully he’ll take it easy and won’t rip his stitches out. We also had him micro-chipped while he was sedated and I hope that the application site isn’t sore. I have the feeling we’ll all take it pretty easy tomorrow and we’ll try to help Doc be as comfortable as possible.

Also, since I know you’re all waiting in breathless anticipation to hear how my performance review went I won’t keep you in suspense: it went horribly. Badly wouldn’t come close to describing it. Neither would terribly. Apocalyptically may be going a bit far so I think I’ll stick with horribly.

This is the first bad performance review I have ever gotten (and I’ve had a job ever since I was 15!). I was screamed at, berated, and given impossibly bad feedback. In short, worst two hours ever. What made it tolerable was that I forgot to eat today. In all the excitement of getting Doc to the vet and getting to work on time I plumb forgot to eat. Then, my manager pushed my performance review back so many times that I never knew when it would be permissible to eat. So, I went from 6am-2pm with nary a food in my tummy. I’m hypoglycemic (which means that when I don’t eat I turn into a bit of a crack addict in search of a fix. Yes, I will mug you for your sandwich if I’m hungry) and that condition coupled with the stress and anger I felt turned the whole experience into a surreal charade. Almost like I was watching a movie of my horrible review.

I made it look like I was taking notes but the whole time I was writing down the various and sundry comments that came to me as my manager screamed at me. Thoughts like, “Well, I’m so glad those books I read on recruiting aren’t considered part of my dedication to work because boy, were they fun to read”, “If the movie was so important for me to see, why didn’t you let me see it during work hours?” (Yes, I did get yelled at today for not seeing a movie I was told to see by one of my managers. Yes, it’s as ridiculous as it sounds), “If it’s OK for you to swear at me whenever you feel like it, is it OK if I call you a f****** b****?” “I wonder what would happen if I just stood up, walked over to her and shook her hand and then left forever? Do you think Wes would be mad? He’d probably be mad. I’d better wait”.

After the review (let’s not call it a review, let’s call it The Evisceration). After The Evisceration I walked for half an hour to clear my head. Wes and I discussed what went down and then he made me come back to the office and eat. So here I am with a drunk puppy and all will to live sucked out of my ears. I really wanted to smoke a cigarette but didn’t (I decided to stop smoking whenever I get upset because there’s a lot of cancer in the women in my family and there’s no need to put myself at risk for an expensive, cathartic, mind-soothing thrill).

The problem with Eviscerations like this is that I now feel like I am terrible at everything. I had thought I was doing well at my job but I have been soundly disabused of that notion. Now that I know what my manager expects from me, I feel like I can’t do the job because she’s made me feel as though I can’t do, nor have I ever done, anything well.

I apologize for the rather somber tone of the post but I feel like I got the wind knocked out of me. I would like to think, however, that if what just happened to me in The Evisceration really were a movie it would have a hugely satisfying ending. Something extraordinary, like if I were to stand up and my manager were to stand up and then engage in a Bourne Ultimatum-style fight wherein I would deliver the final blow with a resounding “WhuPAH!” and she would crumple (not dead, just KO).

Even better would be a recreation of the scene from “Fight Club” wherein I beat the snot out of myself and then waited for the security guards to burst in on me and my manager at our most excellent moment together (I’m reading the book Fight Club right now, actually, and that may not be the best book for me to be reading). If that were the ending of my movie (titled “The Evisceration”, of course) at least I would have monetary security AND my smirking revenge. Is revenge best served cold or smirking, I wonder?

Category: Work  | 2 Comments
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