Well, fuck. It seems my digitally entropic touch isn't entirely in the past.
Bear with me here, for those that might not already know, I have, it appears, a knack for disabling, damaging, and occasionally killing, electronic things.
PS2? Crashed it.
XboX? Crashed it by pressing, it'd seem, two entirely wrong buttons at once, green-screening it.
PC? 3 Headcrashes, 1 erroneous partition deletion, hosed soundcard due to a misplaced foot, 1 CPU (from my second machine) with bent pins; I won't even go into what damage one can accidentally cause by shorting a USB port.
Now, to add to the list of victims of my thoughtlessness, clumsiness, and blind bad luck, the memory card for my PS2.
It'll seem silly of course, and I am aware of it; but anything you put time into, starts meaning something, if nothing else then the time put in it.
It appears that my memory card has begun acting up, and the result is that the data file containing the evidence of the hours I've poured into as mindless a game as Tekken 5, are gone. Corrupted, and thus not possible to save. I've had to overwrite it, and start from scratch.
Yes; I know that it's probably one of the least relevant things to anyone else, it's just...well, fuck. I don't think it's healthy to be reminded of the hours I've spent (I won't say wasted, since I have had a load of fun!) on it; bam! Gone.
It's still the first time I've heard of a memory card that selectively corrupted; everything else on the card seems to be working, except for the one data slot that held the most time invested.
Maybe I should start wearing anti-static gloves whenever handling electronic devices; just as Midas of the stories had to wear gloves. I just don't really have a gold touch; entropic touch does sound a lot more intimidating, and, well, me for that matter.
Now, to begin all over with Tekken. I foresee many a sore thumb and frustrated shouts when I lose matches.
It's going to take a while, and probably a lot of cigarettes and beer, too. Now, onwards!
Friday, July 20, 2007
Friday, July 6, 2007
Karma doesn't shield you from being punched in the face by an old friend
{Warning: Long post. Not entirely emo, though!}
So, a few days ago, a friend of mine held a birthday party in a park. I was invited, and although I was horribly tired due to too little sleep, too much drinking the night before, and an excrutiating day at work, I ended up showing up no less. After all, it was just supposed to be a relaxing evening.
Given my penchant for writing up long-winded recaps of my exhilerating life, you probably already have figured things might not have gone entirely as planned.
As it goes, I turned up alongside my flatmate; the party as such had been going on for a goodly few hours, so being sober set us apart from most others there.
I encountered an old flatmate, and while we certainly did not part on the best of terms back then, it was good to see him again, to find he was still alive, and the past got cleared up well enough. I can't say it's something that's taken a lot of space in my life, but even niggling things are good to put to rest.
Barring a mild worry that drunken people should not at all light up a fire in a park, in particular not without proper preparation and emergency fire-fighting equipment, the park party went without further problems, no dead, injured or arrested, which was good.
Eventually, the rain that seems to best define Danish weather these days returned, and we decided to pack up the gear and head back for the friend's apartment; hauling whatever alcohol left with us and contiuning the party there.
I also met another person at the party. An old friend I haden't spoken to for a goodly while. He and I went way back, from the early days of LAN-parties, later to expand on to roleplaying, both LARP and tabletop. Back in the days where things were late teenage-angsty and all;
I remember when he called me one day, as his mother's husband had trashed his room, and broken his guitar. My friend was completely in pieces, he treasured that guitar. I remember walking around for the remainder of the night, talking him out of various acts of violence, and trying to get his mind off the rather harsh things that had just happened.
As time went, we both got involved in the goth scene in Copenhagen - a 'scene', that one might point out had precious little substance, but plenty of make-believe, as any self-aggrandizing subculture really consists of. We got involved in different stratas there, though, and eventually, he became enamoured with philosophical satanism, under the influence of a rather bleak individual that I later crossed paths with as well.
I watched it, and didn't like it much, but in the end I figured it was his choice. Mathematical outlook on life, he often lived by the maxim of "life is a tragedy for those who feel, and a comedy for those who think". Needless to say, we ended up on wildly different ends of the spectrum; I never did understand why people believe it's an either-or choice. Feeling does not exclude thought, nor should thinking deny one feelings.
Sadly, some things also happened that I was not at all happy with.
First off, while arguably fairly innocent, discovering that one's best friend was busy exchanging saliva with one's girlfriend is never a pleasant experience. Bear in mind, it was during my time of my first relationship, and god knows it was dysfuncitonal as hell. No less, while my girlfriend at least had the conviction to tell me it happened, and apologized, I almost had to drag his reaction out of him. It'd seem, that he was more bitter that he had lost control, than bothered by what he actually had done.
To make matters worse, it then happened again about a month later, during a new year's party; ironically enough held at the friend whose birthday party I went to this week.
Fool me once, fool me twice; it does become a bit hard to justify seeing anything friendly in a person who repeatedly gets somewhat too amiable with your significant other.
Bear in mind, that was around 5 years ago.
As things go, my first relationship eventually died a horrible wasting death, and I moved on. Somehow, it was a bit easier to not hate him after the immediate reason for why I'd want to punch his teeth in wasn't there anymore to remind me, and as time went, we started working on role playing scenarios again. He had become deeply entrenched in the "think, don't feel" mentality by then, and the main reason, really, I was working on scenarios with him was due to the fact that we worked well together.
Over time, we had created a scenario-arranging group alongside two of our old friends, called Procyon. It was never intended to be anything grander than to give us the chance to do some luxury live role playing scenarios for friends. We held a couple of sessions, complete with food, a good location, and characters written specifically for the players. It was close-knit, it was elitist, and it was good.
Then, one day, I recieved an invitation for a scenario. Arranged by the people in Procyon. On the arrangers' list, my name had vanished.
Contacting the three people in Procyon, I learned that by initiative of my old friend, I had been excluded, he had apparantly cited lack of commitment as the reason.
Suffice it to say, I had not been even heard on the subject, and the two other people had been highly suspicious of why I had not been present at the meeting where the decision had been made.
Hardly surprising, I might add someone had failed to invite me to said meeting.
On a perhaps vindictive note, I could point out that in the end, the regular players simply turned around and boycotted the scenario. It fell dead to the ground. And I decided that I had tried enough times to make things work with him. It didn't improve things of course that I learned he'd been busy contacting old mutual friends to inform of how I was squandering my life, my talents, and how I was a lost cause. I don't take well to that sort of stuff either. Fortunately, it appeared that most people he tried to sway, simply contacted me and informed me of what he had told them. I chose not to act on it, and decided to close the door.
Cut to tuesday evening, and I ran into him again. It'd been around two years since I last really talked to him, and in the mood of light intoxication, and an otherwise good evening, I decided to sit down and talk with him again. See if there was indeed anything left worth talking about.
So we began talking; and things didn't go as one could have hoped. Were this a Hollywood film, I suspect there'd been strings, choir and a tearful reconciliation. As this is reality, however, there was neither.
The talking deteriorated into him, once again, trying to analyze me, to point out chinks and cracks in the armor of emotions; but when he started patronizing me, I made it very clear that I, not in the past, nor certainly in the present, would let him speak down to me. Considering his rather significant fuckups in the past (some willfull, some simply from lack of a conscience), he was in no position do look down at me.
It was about at this time, that he extended his hand to me, and asked that we put the past behind us. And then he made his final fuckup; he told me to take his hand within 30 seconds.
I looked him dead in the eyes, and told him he had forgotten who had done what to whom, and told him that he was not the one to set ultimatums.
And then, I guess, something snapped for him. And he balled up his fingers into a fist, and punched me in the face. Followed up by grabbing my collar, and delivering a headbutt as well.
There have been things in my life I've done that I am not neccesarily proud of, moments where my resolve has faltered horribly. This time, though, I am in a quiet way proud that I kept my resolve completely.
I looked him dead in the eyes, and I saw him realizing what he had done. And then I quoted my first girlfriend, the one he'd been messing around with, and whom he later was not above socially sniping at;
"At the end of the day, you're the one that has to live with yourself."
He said nothing, and I don't know if he was in shock after what he'd done, or was waiting for me to punch him, or whatever, but he said nothing, didn't move at all.
Then I bid him my farewells for the good times in the past, and turned around and walked away.
There wasn't really much left to say, anyway, and although I certainly felt somewhat tempted to break his nose, this was supposed to have been a birthday party for a close friend of mine.
Having talked with my friends, I've been told he was approaching catatonia afterwards, and for some reason people keep telling me how bad he feels about it now. For some reason, I can't seem to muster up the grace to feel sorry for him.
"But, he really feels awful about it and doesn't know what to do!"
"Really? Let me see if I've got some caring left for him...Ah, damn, came up short. I've got some bile if that helps?"
I still can't figure out how people who saw it happen can claim he open-handed slapped me; last time I checked, fists and foreheads don't count as slaps, but maybe I'm just pedantic.
And to think that instead of doing the right thing, to say goodbye and leaving; in time I know I'll realize it was the right choice, but I can't help but to think what'd have happened if I had simply punched his clock instead. Broken his nose, and told him "That's how you throw a punch, you weak bitch. Now slither on home."
Immediate gratification has its place, I guess, and right now, I'd enjoy the boost of endorphines rather than waiting for karma to thank me. Maybe it'd also have nulled the point of people trying to tell me how bad he feels what he did. I guess if I'd broken his nose, I'd have made my feelings clear. But calm and composure prevails, or something.
Now to see what this'll end up meaning in the grand scheme of things; I just hope I'll keep to my ideals and; once again, be the better person...but damn it, some gratification would be welcome.
At least I can smile a bit after having written this. I still could use having karma on speed dial, though. Call fate up and say "Yo, I think some rewarding's due here?". Heh.
So, a few days ago, a friend of mine held a birthday party in a park. I was invited, and although I was horribly tired due to too little sleep, too much drinking the night before, and an excrutiating day at work, I ended up showing up no less. After all, it was just supposed to be a relaxing evening.
Given my penchant for writing up long-winded recaps of my exhilerating life, you probably already have figured things might not have gone entirely as planned.
As it goes, I turned up alongside my flatmate; the party as such had been going on for a goodly few hours, so being sober set us apart from most others there.
I encountered an old flatmate, and while we certainly did not part on the best of terms back then, it was good to see him again, to find he was still alive, and the past got cleared up well enough. I can't say it's something that's taken a lot of space in my life, but even niggling things are good to put to rest.
Barring a mild worry that drunken people should not at all light up a fire in a park, in particular not without proper preparation and emergency fire-fighting equipment, the park party went without further problems, no dead, injured or arrested, which was good.
Eventually, the rain that seems to best define Danish weather these days returned, and we decided to pack up the gear and head back for the friend's apartment; hauling whatever alcohol left with us and contiuning the party there.
I also met another person at the party. An old friend I haden't spoken to for a goodly while. He and I went way back, from the early days of LAN-parties, later to expand on to roleplaying, both LARP and tabletop. Back in the days where things were late teenage-angsty and all;
I remember when he called me one day, as his mother's husband had trashed his room, and broken his guitar. My friend was completely in pieces, he treasured that guitar. I remember walking around for the remainder of the night, talking him out of various acts of violence, and trying to get his mind off the rather harsh things that had just happened.
As time went, we both got involved in the goth scene in Copenhagen - a 'scene', that one might point out had precious little substance, but plenty of make-believe, as any self-aggrandizing subculture really consists of. We got involved in different stratas there, though, and eventually, he became enamoured with philosophical satanism, under the influence of a rather bleak individual that I later crossed paths with as well.
I watched it, and didn't like it much, but in the end I figured it was his choice. Mathematical outlook on life, he often lived by the maxim of "life is a tragedy for those who feel, and a comedy for those who think". Needless to say, we ended up on wildly different ends of the spectrum; I never did understand why people believe it's an either-or choice. Feeling does not exclude thought, nor should thinking deny one feelings.
Sadly, some things also happened that I was not at all happy with.
First off, while arguably fairly innocent, discovering that one's best friend was busy exchanging saliva with one's girlfriend is never a pleasant experience. Bear in mind, it was during my time of my first relationship, and god knows it was dysfuncitonal as hell. No less, while my girlfriend at least had the conviction to tell me it happened, and apologized, I almost had to drag his reaction out of him. It'd seem, that he was more bitter that he had lost control, than bothered by what he actually had done.
To make matters worse, it then happened again about a month later, during a new year's party; ironically enough held at the friend whose birthday party I went to this week.
Fool me once, fool me twice; it does become a bit hard to justify seeing anything friendly in a person who repeatedly gets somewhat too amiable with your significant other.
Bear in mind, that was around 5 years ago.
As things go, my first relationship eventually died a horrible wasting death, and I moved on. Somehow, it was a bit easier to not hate him after the immediate reason for why I'd want to punch his teeth in wasn't there anymore to remind me, and as time went, we started working on role playing scenarios again. He had become deeply entrenched in the "think, don't feel" mentality by then, and the main reason, really, I was working on scenarios with him was due to the fact that we worked well together.
Over time, we had created a scenario-arranging group alongside two of our old friends, called Procyon. It was never intended to be anything grander than to give us the chance to do some luxury live role playing scenarios for friends. We held a couple of sessions, complete with food, a good location, and characters written specifically for the players. It was close-knit, it was elitist, and it was good.
Then, one day, I recieved an invitation for a scenario. Arranged by the people in Procyon. On the arrangers' list, my name had vanished.
Contacting the three people in Procyon, I learned that by initiative of my old friend, I had been excluded, he had apparantly cited lack of commitment as the reason.
Suffice it to say, I had not been even heard on the subject, and the two other people had been highly suspicious of why I had not been present at the meeting where the decision had been made.
Hardly surprising, I might add someone had failed to invite me to said meeting.
On a perhaps vindictive note, I could point out that in the end, the regular players simply turned around and boycotted the scenario. It fell dead to the ground. And I decided that I had tried enough times to make things work with him. It didn't improve things of course that I learned he'd been busy contacting old mutual friends to inform of how I was squandering my life, my talents, and how I was a lost cause. I don't take well to that sort of stuff either. Fortunately, it appeared that most people he tried to sway, simply contacted me and informed me of what he had told them. I chose not to act on it, and decided to close the door.
Cut to tuesday evening, and I ran into him again. It'd been around two years since I last really talked to him, and in the mood of light intoxication, and an otherwise good evening, I decided to sit down and talk with him again. See if there was indeed anything left worth talking about.
So we began talking; and things didn't go as one could have hoped. Were this a Hollywood film, I suspect there'd been strings, choir and a tearful reconciliation. As this is reality, however, there was neither.
The talking deteriorated into him, once again, trying to analyze me, to point out chinks and cracks in the armor of emotions; but when he started patronizing me, I made it very clear that I, not in the past, nor certainly in the present, would let him speak down to me. Considering his rather significant fuckups in the past (some willfull, some simply from lack of a conscience), he was in no position do look down at me.
It was about at this time, that he extended his hand to me, and asked that we put the past behind us. And then he made his final fuckup; he told me to take his hand within 30 seconds.
I looked him dead in the eyes, and told him he had forgotten who had done what to whom, and told him that he was not the one to set ultimatums.
And then, I guess, something snapped for him. And he balled up his fingers into a fist, and punched me in the face. Followed up by grabbing my collar, and delivering a headbutt as well.
There have been things in my life I've done that I am not neccesarily proud of, moments where my resolve has faltered horribly. This time, though, I am in a quiet way proud that I kept my resolve completely.
I looked him dead in the eyes, and I saw him realizing what he had done. And then I quoted my first girlfriend, the one he'd been messing around with, and whom he later was not above socially sniping at;
"At the end of the day, you're the one that has to live with yourself."
He said nothing, and I don't know if he was in shock after what he'd done, or was waiting for me to punch him, or whatever, but he said nothing, didn't move at all.
Then I bid him my farewells for the good times in the past, and turned around and walked away.
There wasn't really much left to say, anyway, and although I certainly felt somewhat tempted to break his nose, this was supposed to have been a birthday party for a close friend of mine.
Having talked with my friends, I've been told he was approaching catatonia afterwards, and for some reason people keep telling me how bad he feels about it now. For some reason, I can't seem to muster up the grace to feel sorry for him.
"But, he really feels awful about it and doesn't know what to do!"
"Really? Let me see if I've got some caring left for him...Ah, damn, came up short. I've got some bile if that helps?"
I still can't figure out how people who saw it happen can claim he open-handed slapped me; last time I checked, fists and foreheads don't count as slaps, but maybe I'm just pedantic.
And to think that instead of doing the right thing, to say goodbye and leaving; in time I know I'll realize it was the right choice, but I can't help but to think what'd have happened if I had simply punched his clock instead. Broken his nose, and told him "That's how you throw a punch, you weak bitch. Now slither on home."
Immediate gratification has its place, I guess, and right now, I'd enjoy the boost of endorphines rather than waiting for karma to thank me. Maybe it'd also have nulled the point of people trying to tell me how bad he feels what he did. I guess if I'd broken his nose, I'd have made my feelings clear. But calm and composure prevails, or something.
Now to see what this'll end up meaning in the grand scheme of things; I just hope I'll keep to my ideals and; once again, be the better person...but damn it, some gratification would be welcome.
At least I can smile a bit after having written this. I still could use having karma on speed dial, though. Call fate up and say "Yo, I think some rewarding's due here?". Heh.
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
I love the rain...It helps me think
Fear, and panic in the air
I want to be free
From desolation and despair
And I feel like everything I sow
Is being swept away
Well I refuse to let you go
I can't get it right
Get it right
Since I met you
Loneliness be over
When will this
Loneliness be over?
Life, will flash before my eyes
So scattered and lost
I want to touch the other side
And no one thinks they are to blame
Why can't we see
When we bleed, we bleed the same
I can't get it right
Get it right
Since I met you
Loneliness be over
When will this
Loneliness be over?
Loneliness be over
When will this
Loneliness be over?
~Muse: Map Of The Problematique
Well, fuck. I wasn't intending to write anything, certainly nothing of substance; but it seems that the vain need of at least 4 hours of sleep has to take a back seat, to angst, wet & cold socks and selective reality, altogether.
So, I went drinking. For a change. It does seem to marginally define my everyday, at least for the point that I should be saving this for something, but somewhere else than home seems easier to be at right, for no other point that simple feelings. One might point out, that I am not at all stoic. Fortunately, as it is, I have no one to either need to impress nor live up to.
So, I went drinking with a colleague. The trip ended up at a place called The Moose, a location I've previously frequented; usually a hangout for post-highschoolers and easy targets for table football.
I got drunk, for a change. At times I think I drink to either hide, or forget, the proverbial slippery slope, I guess, but again, I feel previous little to either live up to or to make happy. Self included, of course, otherwise this would not be a proper desolation post.
You know how, in video fighting games, the characters often have a desperation move?
Up, up, down, down, left right, left right, B, A, Start.
Boom.
{Insert flashy CGIs and devastating damage}
...Boom?
As it goes, while at the Moose, not only was I reminded of certain vital things, I also ended up incidentally hearing a certain Muse track: Map Of The Problematique. Hence the italicized text at the top. I felt it'd add a certain panache, although certain individuals might label it as emo.
Out of a sudden, it all feels entirely not bearable. That twitch on the edge as you're balancing it all; just half a heartbeat short of staggering and stumbling.
Fuck it; for some reason I feel like I've just thrown it all on the floor, and seen it go to pieces - I am not even sure how it'll feel in the morning, but in some bizarre way I hope I'll remember this feeling; because at the moment it feels awfully more honest than most I've let myself feel for a while.
I'd add a boo-hoo for myself when I read this, like a post-it note to one self, for later reading when you remember what you wrote. Like that note you wish you wrote to yourself about a dream when you woke up late at night, and never could remember afterwards.
So. Fucking. Futile.
I can't get it right.
Get it right.
Since I met you.
Most definately time for the desperation move.
Cold, sogged from rain, and slight panic at the notion that I won't make it to work in anything resembling a normal work schedule...But then, who's counting, especially considering that I don't have any expectations to meet, barring the fact that I have a fucking trophy reminding me that I have been the quarterly employeee. Good on me. I'll be there, when I'll be there. No sooner.
Unfortunately, that goes for about it all. Perpetual standby.
...Someone, please turn me back on. There's too much inside going to waste, waiting and anticipating; it's no use like this.
...So it ends on yet another sob-story, and me (rightfully) blaming myself for failing to make the changes I'd hope to see. Ain't that a change, at that.
I love the rain. It helps me think."
~Sin City
It needs to rain a lot more. I'm not nearly done yet.
I want to be free
From desolation and despair
And I feel like everything I sow
Is being swept away
Well I refuse to let you go
I can't get it right
Get it right
Since I met you
Loneliness be over
When will this
Loneliness be over?
Life, will flash before my eyes
So scattered and lost
I want to touch the other side
And no one thinks they are to blame
Why can't we see
When we bleed, we bleed the same
I can't get it right
Get it right
Since I met you
Loneliness be over
When will this
Loneliness be over?
Loneliness be over
When will this
Loneliness be over?
~Muse: Map Of The Problematique
Well, fuck. I wasn't intending to write anything, certainly nothing of substance; but it seems that the vain need of at least 4 hours of sleep has to take a back seat, to angst, wet & cold socks and selective reality, altogether.
So, I went drinking. For a change. It does seem to marginally define my everyday, at least for the point that I should be saving this for something, but somewhere else than home seems easier to be at right, for no other point that simple feelings. One might point out, that I am not at all stoic. Fortunately, as it is, I have no one to either need to impress nor live up to.
So, I went drinking with a colleague. The trip ended up at a place called The Moose, a location I've previously frequented; usually a hangout for post-highschoolers and easy targets for table football.
I got drunk, for a change. At times I think I drink to either hide, or forget, the proverbial slippery slope, I guess, but again, I feel previous little to either live up to or to make happy. Self included, of course, otherwise this would not be a proper desolation post.
You know how, in video fighting games, the characters often have a desperation move?
Up, up, down, down, left right, left right, B, A, Start.
Boom.
{Insert flashy CGIs and devastating damage}
...Boom?
As it goes, while at the Moose, not only was I reminded of certain vital things, I also ended up incidentally hearing a certain Muse track: Map Of The Problematique. Hence the italicized text at the top. I felt it'd add a certain panache, although certain individuals might label it as emo.
Out of a sudden, it all feels entirely not bearable. That twitch on the edge as you're balancing it all; just half a heartbeat short of staggering and stumbling.
Fuck it; for some reason I feel like I've just thrown it all on the floor, and seen it go to pieces - I am not even sure how it'll feel in the morning, but in some bizarre way I hope I'll remember this feeling; because at the moment it feels awfully more honest than most I've let myself feel for a while.
I'd add a boo-hoo for myself when I read this, like a post-it note to one self, for later reading when you remember what you wrote. Like that note you wish you wrote to yourself about a dream when you woke up late at night, and never could remember afterwards.
So. Fucking. Futile.
I can't get it right.
Get it right.
Since I met you.
Most definately time for the desperation move.
Cold, sogged from rain, and slight panic at the notion that I won't make it to work in anything resembling a normal work schedule...But then, who's counting, especially considering that I don't have any expectations to meet, barring the fact that I have a fucking trophy reminding me that I have been the quarterly employeee. Good on me. I'll be there, when I'll be there. No sooner.
Unfortunately, that goes for about it all. Perpetual standby.
...Someone, please turn me back on. There's too much inside going to waste, waiting and anticipating; it's no use like this.
...So it ends on yet another sob-story, and me (rightfully) blaming myself for failing to make the changes I'd hope to see. Ain't that a change, at that.
I love the rain. It helps me think."
~Sin City
It needs to rain a lot more. I'm not nearly done yet.
Sunday, July 1, 2007
Long way to fall from the skies
{melodramatic}
The past week has seen me at both ends of the spectrum; from the brief, dizzying heights of elation, to the proverbial gravel pits of frustration, ending back at the bland realities of normalcy. {/melodramatic}
While I've now been staring, spitefully at the above sentence for the better part of ten minutes, trying to find some marginally more elegant way of saying it, I've failed gruesomly at that; and in protest, I've taken to capping it with the {melodramatic} tags. Take that.
As you're no doubt aware, I work for an ISP, doing technical support. Well, not entirely, as it is; I work for a company who handles outsourcing for other companies. How it becomes economically viable, I have no idea, but apparantly it works. The reason I say I work for an ISP, is because I feel more connected to that, than the company that actually pays me - it's a lot easier to identify with an employer whose company name hasen't changed 4 times inside 18 months. No, I am not kidding.
From Excellent, to Excellent-Tradimus, to Tradimus, and now to Aditro. Fuck's sake. Fusions may look good on paper, and probably on the stock exchange as well, but for the average working joe, it does fuck all apart from the technical difficulties of redoing mailsignatures and addresses.
Anyways;
About a month ago, our Operations Manager forwarded a mail to me; he had suggested me as a candidate for the employee of the quarter. That is, quarter of a year. Quarterly employee? Whatever.
I had pretty much forgotten all about it, largely as I didn't really see it happening. Doesn't matter that I do acknowledge I've done some passably well-performed work, but crux is that I have long hair, wear black clothes, and generally make the higher-ups look weirdly at me whenever fate leads them through our department.
So, waking up monday, and realizing that I had grossly overslept, didn't bode well for the 3rd out of 7 workdays in a row. 14.25 read the alarm clock, and apart from me having trouble catching my breath (yet another riveting dream), I held no concept of a day worth writing home about.
Called in, apologized for being late, and promised them I'd be over as soon as possible.
At 15.05, I clocked in.
At 15.10, one of out TeamLeaders walked over and told me we'd be having a kickoff shortly. A kickoff is basically a 5 minute heads up on the situation at work, usually in the case of focus subjects or specific challenges (I guess I should love the fact that 'challenges' is the positive form of "oh fuck, we're half-staffed all week, and all gateways have just choked!", but I digress);
Well.
In walks the HR-director, a kindly, but strict man with protruding ears and a red tie. Smiling.
This can't be good...
But it was.
After a few minutes of introductionary speech, he proceeded to tell the gathered department that the quarterly employee was indeed to be found amongst us. And that someone was me.
Out of the ~500 people in the building, 400 are neither staff, HR or teamleaders. Out of 400 employees, I appeared to be the chosen one. Go me. Having all your colleagues clap, as you're being praised is definately one of the more memorable things.
Of course, the irony is, that on that very day, they had planned for the award-thing for just after 14, where I was indeed expected to meet. I managed to, unintentionally, oversleep my own award; and thereby forcing our HR-director to go on standby for a bit over an hour.
I told you, I'm the resident rockstar of the support. Hardcore to the bone. Etc etc.
So, what's in it for me?
First off, glory everlasting, and whatnot. And a paid day off, which is nice. Couple of cinema tickets with soda, popcorn and whatnot tossed in as well. A basket filled with weird stuff, ranging from some obscure wine, balsamico, and mustard of some exotic origin that I can't place; as well as a plethora of other strange things.
And a trophy.
Before I get all misty-eyed and start thanking my colleagues and stuff, I could, with usual flair and panache, point out that Balsamico holds no interest to me, mustard I care little for, and the trophy's base was splintered to a degree where I could hardly lug it back to my seat.
Story of my life, I guess; "Here, have a trophy to show how awesome you are. Oh yah, be careful with it, the base is broken."
But well, it did make the day quite a bit different than I had expected.
And from the dizzying heights...
You see, I had forgotten my cell phone at home that morning. After work, unsurprisingly, I ended up drinking to celebrate my new title. Came home moderately intoxicated, and forgot all about my cellphone. Next day, I failed to find it before heading to work. After work, I could find it. Even better, the net at home died. With no cellphone, and no internet, one suddenly feels very cut off from reality. The neccesity of communication is evident at such times. You don't need to use it, but you need to have it.
Luckily, a few days later, my flatmate, when asked if he had seen my cellphone, told me he had found it in the bathroom a few days earlier, and had put it next to his computer in his room. No frickin' wonder I didn't find it - I did manage to completely overturn my room (compounding the mess), and sweep through the living room, which was at the time only lighted by a lava lamp, a TV and my two monitors, as the lightbulb in the living room, when last attempted switched on, knocked the power in the apartment. Not as much fun as it sounds, and reading it, it doesn't even sound that much fun.
Well, coming to a grinding halt here at the last moments of the weekend, the net is back, light is on in the living room again, and I have my cellphone. A return to normalcy, in all its bland lack of glory.
Tomorrow starts a new week for me, although it's only three days of work before two days off again; and the cycle begins anew.
Something's got to give. And something's got to change. This everyday doesn't really do it for me...Although I could reason that it's preferrable to being offline, lost in the darkness of a living room with no lighting, and lacking both cigarettes and a cellphone. Some existential gratitude might serve me well, alongside a slice of the ol' humble pie. Until then, though, I'll remain defiant. Hah.
The past week has seen me at both ends of the spectrum; from the brief, dizzying heights of elation, to the proverbial gravel pits of frustration, ending back at the bland realities of normalcy. {/melodramatic}
While I've now been staring, spitefully at the above sentence for the better part of ten minutes, trying to find some marginally more elegant way of saying it, I've failed gruesomly at that; and in protest, I've taken to capping it with the {melodramatic} tags. Take that.
As you're no doubt aware, I work for an ISP, doing technical support. Well, not entirely, as it is; I work for a company who handles outsourcing for other companies. How it becomes economically viable, I have no idea, but apparantly it works. The reason I say I work for an ISP, is because I feel more connected to that, than the company that actually pays me - it's a lot easier to identify with an employer whose company name hasen't changed 4 times inside 18 months. No, I am not kidding.
From Excellent, to Excellent-Tradimus, to Tradimus, and now to Aditro. Fuck's sake. Fusions may look good on paper, and probably on the stock exchange as well, but for the average working joe, it does fuck all apart from the technical difficulties of redoing mailsignatures and addresses.
Anyways;
About a month ago, our Operations Manager forwarded a mail to me; he had suggested me as a candidate for the employee of the quarter. That is, quarter of a year. Quarterly employee? Whatever.
I had pretty much forgotten all about it, largely as I didn't really see it happening. Doesn't matter that I do acknowledge I've done some passably well-performed work, but crux is that I have long hair, wear black clothes, and generally make the higher-ups look weirdly at me whenever fate leads them through our department.
So, waking up monday, and realizing that I had grossly overslept, didn't bode well for the 3rd out of 7 workdays in a row. 14.25 read the alarm clock, and apart from me having trouble catching my breath (yet another riveting dream), I held no concept of a day worth writing home about.
Called in, apologized for being late, and promised them I'd be over as soon as possible.
At 15.05, I clocked in.
At 15.10, one of out TeamLeaders walked over and told me we'd be having a kickoff shortly. A kickoff is basically a 5 minute heads up on the situation at work, usually in the case of focus subjects or specific challenges (I guess I should love the fact that 'challenges' is the positive form of "oh fuck, we're half-staffed all week, and all gateways have just choked!", but I digress);
Well.
In walks the HR-director, a kindly, but strict man with protruding ears and a red tie. Smiling.
This can't be good...
But it was.
After a few minutes of introductionary speech, he proceeded to tell the gathered department that the quarterly employee was indeed to be found amongst us. And that someone was me.
Out of the ~500 people in the building, 400 are neither staff, HR or teamleaders. Out of 400 employees, I appeared to be the chosen one. Go me. Having all your colleagues clap, as you're being praised is definately one of the more memorable things.
Of course, the irony is, that on that very day, they had planned for the award-thing for just after 14, where I was indeed expected to meet. I managed to, unintentionally, oversleep my own award; and thereby forcing our HR-director to go on standby for a bit over an hour.
I told you, I'm the resident rockstar of the support. Hardcore to the bone. Etc etc.
So, what's in it for me?
First off, glory everlasting, and whatnot. And a paid day off, which is nice. Couple of cinema tickets with soda, popcorn and whatnot tossed in as well. A basket filled with weird stuff, ranging from some obscure wine, balsamico, and mustard of some exotic origin that I can't place; as well as a plethora of other strange things.
And a trophy.
Before I get all misty-eyed and start thanking my colleagues and stuff, I could, with usual flair and panache, point out that Balsamico holds no interest to me, mustard I care little for, and the trophy's base was splintered to a degree where I could hardly lug it back to my seat.
Story of my life, I guess; "Here, have a trophy to show how awesome you are. Oh yah, be careful with it, the base is broken."
But well, it did make the day quite a bit different than I had expected.
And from the dizzying heights...
You see, I had forgotten my cell phone at home that morning. After work, unsurprisingly, I ended up drinking to celebrate my new title. Came home moderately intoxicated, and forgot all about my cellphone. Next day, I failed to find it before heading to work. After work, I could find it. Even better, the net at home died. With no cellphone, and no internet, one suddenly feels very cut off from reality. The neccesity of communication is evident at such times. You don't need to use it, but you need to have it.
Luckily, a few days later, my flatmate, when asked if he had seen my cellphone, told me he had found it in the bathroom a few days earlier, and had put it next to his computer in his room. No frickin' wonder I didn't find it - I did manage to completely overturn my room (compounding the mess), and sweep through the living room, which was at the time only lighted by a lava lamp, a TV and my two monitors, as the lightbulb in the living room, when last attempted switched on, knocked the power in the apartment. Not as much fun as it sounds, and reading it, it doesn't even sound that much fun.
Well, coming to a grinding halt here at the last moments of the weekend, the net is back, light is on in the living room again, and I have my cellphone. A return to normalcy, in all its bland lack of glory.
Tomorrow starts a new week for me, although it's only three days of work before two days off again; and the cycle begins anew.
Something's got to give. And something's got to change. This everyday doesn't really do it for me...Although I could reason that it's preferrable to being offline, lost in the darkness of a living room with no lighting, and lacking both cigarettes and a cellphone. Some existential gratitude might serve me well, alongside a slice of the ol' humble pie. Until then, though, I'll remain defiant. Hah.
More linkage
Just to add: Two new blogs linked under others' thoughts; The Wireless Bushman, and A Scream In My Voice.
Also, trying to break the writer's block here, I feel an update is a lot easier to write than actually putting feelings to paper.
Also, trying to break the writer's block here, I feel an update is a lot easier to write than actually putting feelings to paper.
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