Is when I can design a system and write the code that will make everyone’s lives easier, but I can’t do the same for my own.
Is when I can figure out how to solve any problem given to me, but not any of those that I actually care about.
Is when I care more about what will be over in a week than what I had hoped would never end.
I’m almost sure I am describing irony here, but wouldn’t it be ironic if even that were turned on its head.
5 frustrating things about work today:
If Business class has taught me anything, some of today’s problems could have been solved with… EMPOWERMENT: the granting of just the right amount of decision making power to the right person in the right position/capacity.
Yesterday, there was a meeting at work where they were explaining to us the etiquette/basics of “blogging”. What is “blogging” you ask? Without being pedantic, it’s what I’ve been doing here for the past several years on my own. It’s nothing new to me, but people “out there” seem to trivialize or write off the habit as something for “those people”. I’m pretty comfortable with writing online–heck, the P.Pole was “outed” yesterday to everyone on the Open Text Yammer network and I’ve already gotten over it–but I don’t know that a new blogger (“NewB” for short?) would feel the same way. We were all required to undergo the training session as Open Text encourages the coops to blog about their experiences at the company, which is actually quite a great idea. I’d be fine with this, and might even make a few posts just for the people running this idea, but I’ve got some bones to pick first (you didn’t really think I’d make it so easy, did you?).
First off, online publication is not for everyone. This was evidenced by the lack of enthusiasm/response when, at the end of the fifteen minute presentation, nearly everyone was either zoned out or leaning out of their chairs to leave. I think most people are great consumers of content, but few are destined for the high and noble calling of producing good, palatable writing. To open this up to everyone is a must, obviously, but to expect everyone to willingly participate is a stretch. In terms of how the internet is used, I’d say the majority of people will mostly be content with consuming content (oh lookit the cute lil’ unintentional pun) 90% of the time, while a small minority focus on producing content 90% of the time. I’d count myself as somewhere in between, with a bias towards producing. And of course, I am not exactly representative of the majority of people hither or tither.
The other major nerve they hit with their system is that they want us to “blog” on Facebook. Don’t get me wrong–Facebook does have its uses. I just don’t think it’s nearly as professional or dedicated looking as an actual WordPress/Blogger page. In fact, I take my posts from here, where they are true blue to how I want them to be presented, and inject a bastardized form of them into my Facebook feed for friends/family (that may not want to bother with visiting my URL or setting up an RSS reader) a chance to keep abreast (you’ve got to love that word) of my comings and goings. I just don’t think it’s the best way to journal or publish for the long term.
In any case, I suppose this is me half-complying and half-rebelling to their mandate to have us coops blog. Like most other things, I’ll do it if its meaningful, but I’m going to do it my way, because I think it’s better.
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Take, if you want a slice,
If you want a piece,
If it feels alright.
Break, if you like the sound,
If it gets you up,
If it brings you down.
Share, if it makes you sleep,
If it sets you free,
If it helps you breathe.
Don’t come over here
And piss on my gate.
Save it—just keep it
Off my wave.
Cry, if you want to cry,
If it helps you see,
If it clears your eyes.
Hate, if you want to hate,
If it keeps you safe,
If it makes you brave.
Pray, if you want to pray,
If you like to kneel,
If you like to lay.
Keep it off my wave.
My wave.
- Soundgarden, My Wave
5 things I hate about my neighbours:
Basically, I live in a town house. The girls living in the unit to the right (right beside my wall) are noisy, dull, and enjoy “working out” to loud thumping music late at night. The people living next door on the left enjoy hosting parties where they have little say in what actually happens, and don’t know how to turn down the bass when asked. They also like to blast loud, trashy house “music”. One or both of these groups of people leave their spent bottles and whatnot on the curb.
I did some research and found these by-laws that are designed for these kinds of people. I was hesitant to call the police about this, but after speaking with the officer handling these calls, he was very helpful and sympathetic, telling me that many people complain about these things so it’s nothing new or rare. He also assured me that these kinds of calls are welcomed (I believe because the dispatch officer gets paid in part for writing the tickets). Anyway, I already tried reasoning with these neighbours and they haven’t made any changes to their behaviour so being a bit of a narc isn’t so bad if they’re asking for it. It’s better than resorting to vigilantism–believe me, you’d be surprised the kinds of ideas that pop into your mind as you lie awake at 2:30 am trying to sleep through sub-woofers and loud talking.
A few weeks ago, I had a funny thing happen to me (medically) and someone I know in the nursing program decided to give me an on-the-spot examination to see what might be wrong. He told me that I had a certain type of condition, making a huge fuss of what he felt in front of a bunch of other people. I’m sure it made him look positively super.
I went to see my doctor about this thing–she has been my physician since I was a baby. I also mentioned that my friend had mentioned a specific term/name for the condition he diagnosed me with.
“I don’t know if this helps, but my friend said it was [name of condition]? What is that?”
[laughs] “There’s no way he could have known that. You’d need a [special laboratory test] to determine that. Your friend was either pulling your leg or trying to be a hero.”
“Oh… He lied to me?!”
“Seems like it.”
This is most displeasing, as it tells me that this acquaintance of mine really is as pompous as many people think, and/or there are medical “professionals” who are not at all professional.
Last night I went to Amy’s place to help her do some tee-shirts for my friend Cristian. I say that I was there to help mainly because whenever it comes to artsy stuff, I am more than completely ready to surrender all decision-making power to her. She is clearly much more talented than myself and has a knack for making me feel kinda slow when it comes to art.
I also laugh a little when I say “help” because as I will soon explain, I was much worse than completely useless (uncharacteristic, since I usually chill out at the “mildly useful/ornamental” level of utility). Basically, one shirt that she had been working on for many a-long hour for the past few days was wrecked in seconds by myself and my Cursed Phalanges.
