work

Things I’m anxious about today

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I woke up this morning a little crazy with anxiety.  The worst thing about it is that I woke up with a list of all the things I should be doing on a loop in my head, and then I froze.  I could have gotten up right then to get started on the list, but did I?  No, I stayed in bed.  Because I could put off all the hard things.  I do that all the time (procrastinate).   Of course, that gives me less time overall to get everything done, so all it really does is ratchet up the anxiety a little more.  Not exactly helpful behavior.

Instead, let’s a play a game (courtesy of Mom) called “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Anxiety Causing Thing #1: Quiz #4 for vector calculus and the midterm I have to take on Thursday

What’s the worst that could happen?  Well, I could get all the answers wrong on my quiz, but that doesn’t affect my grade (just makes my professor think I’m an idiot), so there isn’t anything to worry about there.  Of course, my performance on my quizzes is an indicator of my performance on the midterm, so if I don’t do well on my quizzes, I may not do well on my midterm.  And I could fail my midterm.  So what if I do?  I won’t have a very good grade in my calculus class.  That would be a blow to my ego (something I could survive), and it may put me on the road to failing this class.  What if I fail the class?  I’m taking it online at a community college because I need the prereq for grad school.  If I fail it, I’m out approximately $350.  If I fail it, I can retake it later.  Will I fail it?  Probably not.  I may not get an A.  I may not even get a B.  But I probably won’t fail.  I submitted my quiz this morning (confident that I got three out of four right), so that’s out of my hands, and I still have today, tomorrow, Wednesday, and part of Thursday to study for the midterm.  Breathe deep.

Anxiety Causing Thing #2: Work

What’s the worst that could happen?  I could get fired.  Or laid off.  Or whatever.  That could happen, but there’s nothing I can do about it (and there’s no immediate indication that it’s coming), so that’s not what’s making me edgy.  There’s nothing specific about work that’s bothering me.  No major deadlines, no one is asking me to do anything I’m not capable of, I don’t have any issues with any coworkers.  I just don’t like it.  I don’t want to come here every day.  (I know, whine whine whine, most people don’t actually like going to work.)  I want to do something with flexible hours where I can work from home and have more time for me.  The math that’s stressing me out is the first step in that direction, so this is more of a low-level, back-burner, always-bugging-me sort of thing that every once in a while jumps up and says, “Hey!  Loser!  Worry about me!”

Anxiety Causing Thing #3: Army Ten-Miler

Did I tell you about this?  A few weeks ago, John registered to run in the Army Ten-Miler this October, and I caved to the very mild peer pressure and registered with him.  So what’s the worst that could happen?  I’ll be so slow that the bus that picks up the slowpokes who aren’t going to finish in the required time will pick me up.  Humiliating.  I have 17 weeks to train for it.  I had more, but I didn’t use them.  I can’t procrastinate on this one, so every day I don’t start this training plan gets under my skin, and I didn’t run today.  Well, I kinda did.  I sprinted around the block (up the hills) a couple of times with the dogs this morning.  My math anxiety trumped my race anxiety this morning – I spent the extra time on my quiz.  (SuzRocks sent me a link to a half-marathon training plan.  I figure if I’m capable of running a half-marathon by the time I finish training, ten miles should seem easy.  Ish.  I just need to start the &^$* training plan.)

There are other things that bug me (there are always other things), but those are the three I woke up with this morning.  Peace, serenity, lots of gym time tonight, some studying…I’ve got it under control.

Happy thoughts!

What I don’t want to be when I grow up

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Nine professions I’m not well-suited for:

1. Construction worker
Pros – Working outside, lots of exercise
Cons – It’s hard work!  Also, I get sunburned easily.  And I don’t want skin cancer.  And pollution.  All that machinery puts out a LOT of exhaust, and I’d rather not breathe that in all day long.

2. Police officer
Pros – I’d get to keep people safe and chase down bad guys
Cons – I’d have to chase down bad guys, and I wouldn’t be safe.  I don’t particularly want a job that puts me in harm’s way.

3. Baker
Pros – The smell of freshly baked bread every day.
Cons – Trying not to eat that freshly baked bread EVERY DAY.  I’d gain weight like crazy.

4. Butcher
Pros – I like meat.
Cons – I don’t particularly want to wield the cleaver that dismembers Lucy the Lamb and Carl the Cow.  I like my food better when it doesn’t look like the animal it came from.  Becoming a butcher could turn me into a vegetarian.

5. Candlestick maker
Pros – Power outages would not be a problem.
Cons – From what I understand, it’s hot, sticky, smelly work.  So’s being a butcher, I imagine.  Hot, sticky, and smelly are three of my least favorite sensations, especially when they’re combined.

6. CIA agent
Pros – It’s very cool.  (I’m thinking of the Mission: Impossible type, of course.)  All that weapons training and fighting stuff, defensive driving and jumping out of helicopters – very cool.
Cons – DANGEROUS.  And probably pretty boring most of the time.  Because life is not actually a movie.  I don’t want to have to lie about my job to everyone I know.

7. Doctor
Pros – Money.  Helping people.  Saving lives.  Probably not boring.
Cons – I’m a little squeamish, so anything involving bodily fluids is most likely not for me.  And if someone breaks a leg or an arm and the bone is sticking out – I might faint.  LONG hours.

8. Tooth Fairy
Pros – I’d get to wear a tutu and wings (I can fly!) and hell – I’d be a fairy!  That’s pretty cool.  And I’d have so much money I’d be constantly giving it away.
Cons – I’m not a night person.  Working all night, every night does not sound like a good time to me.  Also, I’m crazy clumsy (constantly bruising my knees and elbows), so sneaking around kids’ rooms and reaching under their pillows without waking them up is probably impossible for me.  I’m not qualified.  And what would I do with all those teeth?

9. Lion Tamer
Pros – It’s the circus!  And oh, the baby lions I’d get to train…so cute.
Cons – Adult lions.  Christian the Lion aside, I doubt adult lions would really want to perform in front of huge crowds.  I don’t want to get eaten by my “trained” lions.

Take a breath

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Every day for the last….large number of days has been nonstop.  No time to think, no time to breathe, from getting up in the morning, through the work day (especially through the work day), and then home to exercise, to make dinner, to run errands…  There’s some time during and after dinner, actually, but I can’t say I’ve felt particularly relaxed.  I’ll try to be more conscious of that time tonight and see how it goes.  We’ve been avoiding turning on the AC for a few days in favor of leaving the windows open all the time, but it’s been pretty warm (in the 80s) and at night, it takes a LONG time to drop to the 60s, where it’s actually comfortable.  Add to that the oh-so-cheerful birds that start singing around 5am, and you get not enough sleep for the last few days.  (The birds don’t wake me up, but John does when he gets up to close the windows.  Waking up to birds singing makes me feel like a Disney princess.  John doesn’t have the same response.)

Anyway, I feel a little frazzled, but it’ll pass.  Until the next thing.  I want to be serene.  Unflappable.  Unperturbable.  (And imperturbable.  Both, please.  🙂  )  Zen.  Might get boring, though.

Still have to work next week

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The government didn’t shut down.  Yay?  I mean, yay!  Definitely yay. Definitely yay because it’s less selfish.  Just because I would LOVE to have a couple of free days off (even if they are without pay) doesn’t mean that everyone this affects is in my position.  But the irrational (and not as nice) part of me wants to whine.

The rest of me wants to whine because we have to do yard work tomorrow.  We’re going to cordon off the holes the dogs have been digging, cut the grass (that will probably be first), weed, and rescue the damn rose bush again.

I’m with the band

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John told me a number of times that I should go to Preservation Hall, so Tuesday morning I looked up the website.  I recognized the name of the guy playing that night (because I’m a big Harry Connick, Jr fan and a bit of an obsessive nerd, I happened to know off the top of my head that Shannon Powell was the drummer for his big band in the early nineties (We Are In Love is possibly my favorite album)), so I planned to go after work.  First set started at 8pm.  Unfortunately, I had to get through the whole day first.  I invited my coworker, who I’ll call Crazy (the only other person on this trip who actually works for my company – everyone else we worked with that week works for our client agency), and we got invited to dinner with one of the clients.  I didn’t particularly want to hang out with anyone from the agency after working hours (I was hoping to relax.  I didn’t want to be on anymore.), but I didn’t have a not-rude way out just then.  Anyway, she wasn’t interested in going to Preservation Hall.  I could handle dinner.

Dinner was uneventful, even boring, especially because Crazy bailed on me.  It started pouring down rain (like flooding rain – we could have swum down Canal Street), and she called to tell me she was staying in.  I had an teeny umbrella that barely kept my head dry, but nothing was keeping me from Preservation Hall that night, so I met my client coworker outside her hotel, and we ran through the rain to the Palace Cafe.  Got drenched from about mid-thigh down.  The food was good (I had andouille crusted fish – spicy and delicious), the conversation was boring, and as soon as I dropped client coworker back at her hotel, I headed out.

If you’ve never been, Preservation Hall (at least where the band plays) is this tiny little room with dirty wood plank flooring, a few wooden benches in the middle of the room (maybe four) and along the walls, a row of cushions up front, and some standing room in the back.  The entrances to the room are on the left side if you’re facing the street (and the band).  There are two doorways on that side, one near the front of the room and one near the back.  You go in through the back and leave out the front, and the doorway near the front is right by the band.  When I came in ($12 cover, and $2 for traditional requests, $5 for other requests, $10 for “When the Saints Go Marching In”, noted on a little sign on the wall behind the band), the band was playing, and as I passed the front doorway, I looked in, saw Shannon Powell (Shannon Powell!), and he waved at me and gave an enthusiastic “Hey!”  That was awesome.  I gathered he really liked to see people come in to hear him play.  There were a ton of people there already, so I joined the crowd in the back and found a spot where I could see.  Sort of.  If I stayed on my toes and looked over a guy’s shoulder.  Still, the music was awesome, and we all had a good time.  The set ended about nine, maybe a little before, and I stuck around for the next set.  I watched the people leaving talk to members of the band (Shannon Powell on drums, Lars Edegran on piano, Clive somebody on trumpet, somebody else on bass, and Scott somebody on trombone) as they filed past them on their way out that front doorway, and I decided I’d talk to Shannon and gush a little on my way out after the next set.  I found a better spot along the right-hand wall for the second set.  The crowd this time around wasn’t as lively.  I was the most enthusiastic person there, clapping to the beat, having a wonderful time.  Totally fun, and I decided to stay for the third set.  How often will I get to see this?  I’ll manage staying out late on a work night.  My enthusiasm didn’t go unnoticed.  After the second set ended, Mr. Powell came over to meet me.  Wanted to know who his fan was, I think.  It turns out he said hi to me when I came in because I look like someone he used to work with who left town a while back.  He thought she may have been back for a visit.  Yeah, that’s not me.  But still, I’m an enthusiastic fan.  He asked me what I was drinking (I didn’t have a drink), and I said nothing right now.  He beckoned me along after him.  We went across the street and stepped into a bar.  (Johnny White’s.)  I was feverishly trying to think of what to order that wouldn’t be either gross (to me) or totally lame (to him).  He asked, I said rum and coke, he said he’s drinking rum, too (rum and orange juice, I think), I said that sounds good, and he ordered me one.  And waved me away when I reached for my wallet.  He bought me a drink.  !  We chatted a little (where am I from, where are you touring next, etc), and he asked me if I wanted to hang out with the band later.  I panicked a little, said I couldn’t, I’m here for work, and I have a presentation in the morning.  Lies!  My presentation was the day after, in the afternoon.  He said something about getting my number so we can stay in touch and catch up when he comes to DC.  (I was thinking to myself that I was not that captivating during that conversation.  Still, he’s didn’t come across as sleazy.  Just friendly.)  Anyway, I regretted the presentation lie and decided I’d tell him I mixed up the days if he asked again.  (He didn’t.)  He said he’s playing at the Palm Court the next night (Wednesday).  I asked about it, and he said they have great food, great music.  I said I’ll be there.  We went back to the hall for his third set, and I took my spot back on the wall.  Good third set (the crowd was better than for the second set).  We all danced at the end.  The guy hugging the wall behind me thanked me on behalf of the band for being able to clap on the right beat (2 and 4 as opposed to 1 and 3 like a few idiots in the audience).  I tipped the band (as you do), and Shannon said “Palm Court tomorrow?”  “I’ll be there at 8.”  I headed out and walked back to my hotel, grinning like an idiot at everyone I passed (it was a little before midnight), and called Mindy to rave about my evening.  What did she want to know?  “What are you going to wear tomorrow?”  We have priorities.  It was SO. MUCH. FUN.

Torn

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I’m both ready to come home and ready to stay for a month.  More music please!  I keep finding out that all these musicians I would LOVE to see are regulars at this club or that bar or that restaurant over there, but only on nights I’ve already missed or nights after I leave this week.  I need more time to see them all, but I really want to come home.  I really want to be on vacation, really.  Having to work is really cramping my style.  🙂

Orange Aladdin didn’t say bananas?

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I’ve never cows look as happy or move as fast as the ones in this video.  If I’d been confined to a muddy yard and barn all winter, I’d be happy, too.

(A very special happy-cow-in-spring thank you to nn.c for the video link.)

More credit goes to Nancy for finding Tom and Lorenzo.  If you like celebrity fashion (if, like me, you browse through People magazine after the awards shows to see all the dresses while waiting in line at the grocery store) and you want to read snarky critiques, you will love their blog.  This post about Daniel Craig is hilarious.

If you’ve ever gotten tired of listening to your three-year-old (or four-year-old or five-year-old or thirteen-year-old) tell jokes badly, you may want to watch this.  Or maybe you don’t.

I’m supposed to be packing.  Not packing tonight will lead to panic in the morning.  Actually, it will lead to not sleeping tonight, since the clothes I’m going to pack are strewn across the bed.  (I may be over-packing.  A bit.  Don’t try and stop me!)  So I’m packing.

Have I said where I’m going?  I don’t believe I have.  From tomorrow night through Friday, I’ll be in New Orleans for work.  I have to support a conference for the client.  Or support the client at a conference.  Whatever.  I’m going to miss John’s band’s first gig that isn’t a block party.  (Hey, if you’re in or near Bethesda and you want to see a band Saturday night, let me know.  I can get you in.)

Right.  Packing.  I’m going.

Planning (again) (still)

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I’m traveling for work next week (for the first time since last June – this isn’t anything like a continuation of last spring’s craziness and stress), so I’m making lists.  I have so many lists I need a list to track my lists.

  • List of stuff to do at home before I leave
  • List of stuff to get done at work before I leave
  • List of work stuff I need to get done while I’m away
  • List of stuff I need to take with me (personal)
  • List of stuff I need to take with me (work)
  • List of stuff I need to be ready to do when I get back (personal)
  • List of stuff I need to be read to do when I get back (work)

I can’t think of anything I have to do that doesn’t fit into one of those categories.  Sometimes a list like that makes me feel organized, like I can get everything done in time.  Not so much tonight.

My commute to Saturn

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I have weeks where work takes over my life, when even though I’m home doing things I enjoy, work is still on my mind.  What I’m going to do tomorrow, how I’m going to solve that problem, what I’m going to tell the client in the next meeting – those things buzz around in my brain when I’m trying to relax.

Then I have weeks where work might as well be on another planet as far as my brain is concerned.  It’s taking everything I have to concentrate on work today (and clearly, since I’m here, I’m not doing a very good job).  My brain would rather be making phone calls and appointments, taking placement exams and registering for classes.  Or READING.  I had an appointment today (x-rays that determined I will have to have a sinus lift before I get a new molar), and I was able to finish No Second Chance.  Good.  It was good.  I want more!  It’s cold outside, but it’s sunny.  Why can’t I be out there enjoying the sunlight?  I’m not stressed – far from it – but I’d like to be able to enjoy my zen-ish state somewhere other than this gray cubicle.

It’s not cool to complain about work all the time.

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Grumble grumble work grumble grumble.  I had a nice afternoon all planned out.  I was going to be home from DC a little after four, take advantage of the nice weather to walk the dogs, all the while relaxing and enjoying myself and NOT thinking about work, and then I was going to go to my Muscle Blast class at the gym.  Instead, on our drive back from DC, the world exploded (where world = system I support for work) and I spent my pleasant two hours at home on the computer, on the phone, planning out how to contain the explosion.  I did still go to my class, where from the minute I walked in, it didn’t even occur to me to think about work (which was an unexpected bonus – I didn’t realize my head was so clear until I got back home and remembered work).  Unfortunately, because the world exploded this afternoon (see previous definition), I have a conference call at 8:30.

Dinner will have to be quick.

Don’t be so melodramatic

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Work today was not cool.  There was drama, and I cried.  (Less than five minutes, alone in a bathroom stall – that sounds really pathetic, but it wasn’t that bad.  It was after I got an apology of sorts, not while the drama was going on.)  It’s over, I’m home, I exercised, John made dinner – all is well.  But I’m tired.  Drama wears me out.

Ramble on

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My brain has been buzzing all day, but only about work stuff, and I wish it would stop. I was asked to volunteer for some outside-normal-working-hours work, and that project finally started to need me, so work is reaching into my evening and weekend hours again. Thankfully, this particular project is due in two weeks, so the pain will be short-lived.

I have a desperate dog trying to crawl into my lap, making typing difficult. He’d climb into my skin with me if he could. Needy animal.  We’re going to try group meditation (me and the dog) and see if he’ll calm down once I’m fully relaxed.  Deep breaths, Riley. You can do it.

Will you be my life coach?

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Thanks to Emily (and the totally random subject of an email she sent to John), I think I’ve found my calling. Or at least another job possibility should I decide 9-5 in the IT world isn’t doing it for me anymore. I could totally be a life coach. I just googled it – there are certification courses in life coaching. Who would pay someone for that? More to the point, who would pay ME for that? And how can I convince them to?

No segues come to mind, so let’s work together on this and pretend I found one so I can abruptly change the subject.

Here’s a transcript of a voice recording I left for myself on my phone (that I’d forgotten about), I think from early December:

We’re driving home from John’s parents’ house, and we just passed a sign that says we’re in a highway safety zone for the next three miles.  I said, “What does that mean?”  John said, “It means you can dance…if you want to.”

And then the giggles I was suppressing broke free and I think that might be a snort right at the end of the recording.  Unfortunately (for you, maybe, but I think I’m okay with it), it’s not saved in a format I can convert to mp3, so you don’t get to hear it.

Technical difficulties

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It’s funny what an unexpected internet outage can do to an evening. Since yesterday was my day off from exercising, I’d planned to spend some time reading my regular blogs (it’s been a couple of days) until John came home and we ate dinner.  Instead, I got home from a whirlwind day in DC with my boss (We commuted together and were in almost every meeting together – that’s a LOT of quality time.  I value my time alone in the car after days like this; I need it to relax and let the day go.  Didn’t happen.) to find that we had no internet, we had no phone (we have Vonage for the house (needs internet) and my cell phone battery was dying), and the problem seemed to be with the cable company.  At least we had power.  It was cold in the house, so, while I waited for John to come home so we could have stir fry for dinner, I made myself some de-caf Earl Grey and curled up under a blanket on the couch with my book.  My new book, a mystery set in post-WWI England with a haunted detective.

The internet came back this morning (obviously).  I missed it.

Fitness is fun

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Maybe I’ll become addicted to classes at the gym.  There are worse things.  I feel SO much better than I did all day.  It was, to be blunt, a shitty day.  A few people at work were in bad moods and were being pricklier than usual, and that put the rest of us on edge, so we were all sniping at each other most of the day.  I texted John around lunchtime and said I was considering pretending to get sick just so I could leave early.  I wanted out of there.  But no, I stayed all day.

But then, I went to my new gym (I joined today – they won me over) for what was described as a high energy dance fitness class.  Everyone in the class was super-friendly and the steps were fun and I had a wonderful time and I feel MUCH better.

I’m a problem-solver

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Really, I am.  It says so right there, on my blue, Lucite, sharp-edged award.  It was awarded to me (because it’s an award and that’s how you get them) at our annual work thing this afternoon (a speaker, team discussions, yearly awards, etc).  Pretty cool.  It looks like the missing murder weapon on Law & Order.  You know, the victim’s head was smashed in with a heavy blunt object at the office, but no one has been able to find the murder weapon.  Then one day the cleaning crew notices one less thing to dust on the shelf in the executive’s office, and when they finally find the weapon (which was shoved in a box in the closet), it turns out to be an award for excellence in consumer relations that has been hastily (and not thoroughly) cleaned off.  Plenty of evidence to convict.

Mine looks kinda like this, but blue. And a little more substantial. And therefore dangerous.

I may also have committed myself to playing golf with my boss when the weather warms up.  She’s aware that I’ve never played before, that I’ve never even picked up a real golf club (I don’t think putt-putt counts), but that might be part of the appeal for her.  I’m someone she could beat.  Maybe she’ll forget.  Oh, look!  A problem to solve!  I’ll get right on it.

Well, I thought it was funny

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The internet conspired to make me laugh today, which is good ’cause my workday left me feeling irritable.  First, The Bloggess.  Naturally.  Time-share ponies = awesome idea.  Then, John and I watched an episode of Castle on Hulu tonight (we’re maybe three episodes behind – it was the one with Donna from That ’70s Show), and there was one scene we laughed so hard at we had to pause the show and go back.  Then, I read an email from last week (I’m not that behind – I must have missed this one) that’s a compilation of winning Style Invitational entries and alternate definitions of words.  I can’t find the actual list online anywhere, so I think it’s just an email thing that was put together who knows how long ago (I’ve seen some of them before) and by who knows who, but it’s really funny.  My favorite was lymph: to walk with a lisp.

Maybe you had to be there.

http://www.hulu.com/

Relevance is overrated

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I meant to post this yesterday but got distracted by the evening’s drama. Nancy Nall, purveyor of links, pointed me to a couple of things that made laugh. First, the cheat sheet Bonnie Tyler probably used (I would have) during the original recording. My favorite part is the dotted line indicating when to croon the lyrics or belt them out.  Second, an edible rickroll.  I know it’s a couple of years late, but that never gets old to me.  Third (and best), Better Book Titles.  Self-explanatory, I think.

Alternate title: Selfish Spoiled Brat To Blame for Deforestation

Today was a snow day, but I didn’t get to play in it.  I had back to back to back meetings all day long, mostly with the same group of people, so it turned into one highly productive marathon conference call.  My ear buds aren’t meant to be worn for nearly 10 hours in a row.  It was a relief to finally hang up the phone.  And tomorrow is Friday.  Compared to today, wearing jeans to work will be like dressing up.  Work clothes on a snow day = yoga pants, a sweatshirt, and fuzzy slippers.  Speaking of yoga pants, Wombat is in love.  I have to agree.  I can only think of one job where I could get away with wearing yoga pants to actual work, and I’m not flexible enough for that.

Sometimes, young does not equal stupid

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Happy 10th Anniversary to us!  John woke me up with one of my favorite cheerful wake-up songs (“Carolina in the Morning”, Dean Martin) because he’s wonderful, and I started my day deliriously happy.

Then I went to work.

Work today wasn’t really any different than it is any other day, except that I’m trying to get everything I’ve been working on in order so I can leave it all in somebody else’s hands for a week and a half.  I’m way more distracted then usual because I JUST WANT TO GO ALREADY, so even though I’ve made a bunch of lists to make sure I don’t forget anything, I’m having a hard time keeping track of all the lists.  I got a little stressed out.

But then I got home and started doing stuff I want to do (like pack and check off the fun lists), and I feel much better.  We’ll just celebrate our anniversary when we get there, which is kinda the whole point of the trip.

Anyway, happy anniversary to us.  Enjoy one of my favorite songs.

I wouldn’t bet against myself in a poker game – actually, I probably would

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I don’t want to work any more this week.  Or next week.  I’m ready for vacation, and I’d like a super-long one, please.  The danger with super-long vacations, of course, is that after all that time off, I don’t want to go back to work.  The first time that happened to me was after the month I took off to move across the country when I transferred from San Diego to Norfolk.  Then, I could very easily blame my reluctance to go back to work on the fact that work = ship and deployment and separation and stress.  I don’t have that excuse anymore (something I am most certainly NOT complaining about).  Going back to work now just means not being able to stay home and be lazy, something I don’t get any sympathy for.  Which is fair.  I can hardly demand sympathy for being employed.  Nor should I.

Editing is a good thing.  I just deleted a paragraph about my hair.  My ponytail, really.  Be grateful.  It was…stupid.  Worse than inane.  Or, well, it was inane, but not in a fun way.

Because I can’t think of any other way to stop tonight, I’ll leave you with this: Kenny Loggins wouldn’t beat the baby Jesus.