Archive for May, 2006
It quit raining, which is nice.
Also nice and somewhat sunshiney is the fact that in the last few days here, I’ve managed to write up about five pages of notes on The Pers Thing as well as a scene from the future of TPT. I know more about what’s happening and why; along with how Cordialis got to the city where Zenidre san Ziegel’s School Of Elemental Magery And Arcane Arts (or whatever I called it), why he and Pers were kidnapped, and what’s going to happen to them in the future (or at least part of it). And there’s even some kissing!
I have no idea when or how much of it I’ll get transcribed, but I’ll see what happens. In both senses of the word. Right now I have to dig up my homework and get to work on it so’s I can turn it in first thing tomorrow… Ugh.
Posted in 
Rival gangs might be behind rise in shootings
The worst part is that I live in one of the areas mentioned in the article. I’ve never had any problems with anyone — everyone I’ve ever encountered has been if not polite at least neutral — but this is still scary. Eeek.
Meeting The Other Crowd:
“Fairy lore has survived for centuries, partly because it arose among Celtic people who historically would rather lose a limb than a good story, partly because it is infinitely adaptable to all times and ages, and partly, and most sickeningly, because fairies have an eternal appeal to the vast swathes of every female generation who love their itty-bitty dresses and their iridescent wings and their flowery bowers. Rational argument becomes sodden and useless upon contact with minds so wet, alas.”
From The Top Ten Modern Fairytales, from The Taipei Times (which may explain some of the above’s silliness.)
Work is going okay. It’s nice to know that I can maintain an A- average, though I know it won’t last — I think training is over at the end of this week. Of the 25 people we started with, I think we’ve only lost two or three. Apparently that’s a pretty low attrition rate.
I’ve even got a couple of people that I can claim as more than acquaintences if not actual friends, so that’s nice. What’s even nicer is that I got paid! Yes! It was not quite as much as I had hoped for, but I don’t even care. I paid bills, and that’s the important part. Woo!
And now for something completely different! Things Overheard At Work, Said By Guys:
– “I’m really sorry, my husband apparently made plans without telling me.”
– “I use eye-contact to tell whether a guy is family.”
I also got major points for admitting (complete with violent neck-wringing motions) that I cannot STAND the word “metrosexual”. (Aaaargh!)
And that’s really all the news that is news.
Virginity or Death! (Not nearly as fun — or as easy — a choice as ‘cake or death’.)
Isn’t May national masturbation month or something like that? *Blinkblink* *Pokes Google* Yep! Hm. Considering that I’ve been working on the culture of Cordialis’ people*, of late, this is an interesting additional bit of food for thought. I haven’t gotten to family structure/sexual mores, yet — I’m still stuck on things like “What’s the tallest building in Josarli Vale?” and “If JV isn’t the capital, what is?” — but that’s probably next on the list.
* I still need a name for them. And I need a name for the country (and country-side) they control, and to figure out what Cordialis’ people are going to call Pers, and and and… It’s amazing how stimulating not having free time to write can be.
I’m home sick today, blah. So here’s stuff from last night:
— The woman that mom knows is Inupiat. The Alutiiq people also do/did facial tattooing, as well as the Unangan and Chugach. Body modification has been around for centuries, which still doesn’t explain why so many people think it’s some kind of hideous disfigurement. (Westerners. Whatta bunch of wierdos.)
Tattoos can span generations: adn.com | beauty : An eye on beauty: Tattoos and piercings; they can also be religious: The Tale Of Tattoos, Hinduism Today.
I have to say that I am proud of the fact that my first tattoo will not be flash — not that there’s anything wrong with flash tats, or with having your first tattoo be flash. It’s just that I’ve had an image in my head for quite a while, now, and I’m looking forward to having it come to life. Once I’m a little more stable in the financial department, I’m going to go over to Slave To The Needle and see if I can meet with Ms. Nutt to talk about it. Yay!
The Seattle Times: Business & Technology: Tattoo blues
I don’t understand why people get so bent out of shape about tattoos, piercings, and odd hair-colors. Whenever I think about it, I always think of a line from Alan Dean Foster’s Glory Road, wherein the straight-laced girl (whose name escapes me at the moment) is talking to Seethe about his mohawk. She says that her mom would die if she (the girl) came home with such an extreme haircut, and Seethe tells her that it was just hair, and he’d never heard of a single documented fatality resulting from a hair cut (or color job). I’m not doing it any justice whatsoever, but anyhow.
Ink, scraps of metal, and dye have nothing to do with one’s ability to do one’s job. If it’s a matter of hygene or safety — as in the food-service industry, where the possibility of losing a labret stud in a batch of muffins while infintesimal is still there and dictates the necessity of removing said stud — I can understand. I have to admit, though, that every time I’ve been served by someone with multiple facial piercings or tattoos, I’ve been mildly distracted by their mods, mostly because I wonder what their ink means to them or how much it hurt to get a septum piercing. I’ve never thought that either the piercings or the tats somehow infringed on their ability to help or serve me. In fact, the only guy with facial piercings that ever annoyed me was the guy that was more interested in attempting to subtly flirt with my brother and his friend Jay than he was in paying attention to what I might have wanted (or needed).
I don’t know why the company I now work for thinks that a nose stud somehow makes it difficult to answer the phone, or an eyebrow piercing means that you cannot effectively process credit-card transactions. We work in a fucking call center. The general public only hears our voices, and even then only ten percent of our calls are from the general public — the rest are intermediaries. It’s not like I’m working the front desk of The Four Seasons, you know? Why -shouldn’t- I be able to have pink hair?
We can have tattoos, but they have to be covered up if they’re “obscene” or “offensive”… Yet the packet that tells us this does not define (nor does it inform the reader as to who defines things) the terms. Would a photorealistic rendering of Aphrodite be considered “obscene” or “offensive”? What about Aphrodite Kallipygos? What about the Venus de Milo, Michaelangelo’s David (warning: GIANT picture!), Liberty Leading The People (large picture), or Nike of Samothrace (large picture)? What if you are decended from Natives for whom facial tattoos are a cultural legacy? My mother works with such a person — a woman, in fact. Are culturally-mandated facial tattoos out, because they’re ink?
Argh. Now I’m cranky and hungry… Fixing the latter will probably fix the former. And I’m working on digging up some info on AK Natives and tattoos, so I’ll probably have some links in a few.
So the place where I’m working (which seems like it’ll be an okay place to work, now that I have a better feel for how the day goes) has this draconian sick-leave policy. Particularly in regards to training.
Personally, I HATE HATE HATE the “Unless you’ve got a fever of 103, are vomiting blood, or otherwise have something that is a decidedly BAD thing to bring to work, come in and work” kind of sick-leave policy. I hate it not because I want to be able to call in “sick” when I “just don’t feel like working” but because it requires people to bring themselves and their germs to work, where they then share them with the rest of us.
Like today! One of the Loud Girls (we have several; all are big [tall as well as broad] and really really loud) announced at the beginning of the day that she wasn’t feeling well and that we’d all just have to work with her, and that today was “all about [her]“. Thinking that she probably had PMS, I just sort of brushed it off… Until first break, when she was regaling a couple of other people with the tale of how a mere 4 blocks after she got off the bus, she threw up. Oh, yay. And, she went on to boom, she’d thrown up again when she’d run out of the room earlier. Lovely. I have no idea why she was throwing up, but I don’t -care- — I just didn’t want her anywhere near me. Icky icky icky.
I hate throwing up. I hate even _thinking_ about throwing up. In fact, just thinking about this morning makes me vaguely queasy. If people would just adhere to the Food Handler’s Safety Illness Response, life would be so much nicer — if you are vomiting or have diarrhea, STAY HOME FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. If you have a cold, you can come in, but wash your hands A LOT and wear a mask.