Old sketches for past coworkers

       The IT department at work has informed me that we are moving everything to a cloud-based solution. For unexamined reasons, I'm still curmudgeonly about that idea, so I took this opportunity to clean out personal stuff I have put on my work computer. Most of it is receipts, photos with work people, etc., but in the process, I ran across a folder titled "Sketches" that I'd completely forgotten about. It has photos of several ideas I'd sketched out at work on post-it notes for blog posts, but because they're about coworkers, I didn't feel right putting on the internet. Said coworkers have now moved on, and enough time has passed that I feel it's acceptable to put these online. 

     One of said coworkers was... enthusiastic. Thankfully not a morning person, so I didn't have to deal with any HELLO GOOD MORNING ISN'T LIFE GRAND nonsense right away, but once the day got underway, there was lots of energy to go around. Apparently, that wasn't just a work phenomenon - they came in one day and told me that their church had an Easter ceremony that weekend. The pastor was solemnly preaching at the lectern, and got to the point where they roll back the stone and find the tomb empty:

Random conversations

     I've never really felt like a people person: I'm definitely an introvert, I don't enjoy being in crowds, I'm a very private person, and I hate small talk. Yet somehow, people always end up talking to me - people I don't know at all. I even had this happen the first time I was in Russia and could barely speak the language. Curiously enough, several of those encounters ended well because I'm really good at expressing things without words and I always had a map on me, so at the very least, if I heard "where" and a questioning tone, I could say "I'm sorry, I don't speak Russian well," while holding out the map. The one where a guy handed me a rose and started declaiming poetry, however, did not go so smoothly. 

     On the whole, though, in English-speaking countries, I think people just talk to me because I try to be polite and honest, and I keep my eyes up and aware of my surroundings. People will catch my eye in a store line and start commiserating about the wait. I reply politely, so they keep going. Pre-pandemic, I even had someone connect with me on a class webconference: she decided I looked interesting and started sending me snarky comments on a private chat, trying to make me laugh while the professor was talking (we are still friends to this day). Another time, I tried out a surfing camp, and someone started telling me how horrible the camping conditions were. She seemed like a nice person, so I mentioned I had an extra bed in my hotel room she was welcome to share. Twelve years later, we still write each other several times a year. 

The Undead Amaryllis

We're making some changes to how things are stored at work, so I figured it would be a good time to get some of the personal stuff I'd stored there back home where it belongs. I pulled all the folders out, dumped them in a zip drive, and started unpacking them at home, where my filing system is a bit more involved than just by year. Ran across the below blurb I wrote for a friend/(now ex-)coworker's blog, and figured I'd share, because it still amuses me.

My erstwhile and enthusiastic coworker has, I think, a bit of an elevated opinion about my gardening skills, which tend more toward the “let’s see what happens… hey, it worked!” side of things than the “I know what I’m doing, and it worked because of that” end of the spectrum. Still, I will admit that things do tend to work out for the most part, such as when we received an amaryllis bulb at work. 

Typically, when contractors or consultants send us Christmas gifts, it’s along the lines of chocolate, cookies, or treats – consumables and temporary items. For whatever reason, one of them gave us an amaryllis bulb in a pot two Christmases ago [2015]. I claimed it for my desk (logical, since I’m the only one not sitting next to a window, very smart), and we got a month or two of lovely red flowers out of it. 

Brilliant stupidity

     The past week had been quite busy, with applying for jobs, helping out friends, and buying, selling, and moving stuff around inside the house. It's slowly coming together, although there are still boxes here and there full of less important things that we'll get to... eventually. For the most part, however, things are where they ought to be, and we've been able to turn our attention to things we want, but don't have (but can still afford: sadly, a brand new yacht is not in the works just yet). As such, a trip to Ikea was made, and we got to break out the tools to set up new stuff.

     One of the things I have always wanted is a nice, big, sewing table. It's very annoying to try to lay out a seam for flat sewing when the wall is only 5" past the sewing machine, and the table you're working on is flexing under the weight and vibrations of said machine. Unfortunately, most heavy, solid tables are also ridiculously expensive, so when I found a series of choose-your-own table tops and legs at Ikea, I was thrilled that the large table tops were a) solid, b) cheap, and c) fairly lightweight still! For $26, I got a 60x30" table top, and four adjustable legs were a grand total of $14. Considering you can't find an adult-sized work desk for less than about $100, I was in heaven.

FTP 46 - Negative news

     A friend texted me this week feeling very upset and angry at the world. After some conversation, it turned out that she'd been reading the news, and found an extremely disturbing new article on a topic she was very passionate about. I've occasionally noticed that I, too, get caught up in the media when issues close to my heart are at stake, and will click around multiple news websites to get every bit of information I can on what's going on. Unfortunately, all this really does is keep exposing us to the things that upset us, and we enter a nasty little downward spiral of finding things to feed that indignant feeling.

     Being a good friend, however, I did for her what I try to do for myself when this happens: google "good news," or "feel good news," and read and watch videos until you get a smile back on your face. (Some of my favorite sites are linked at the bottom, if you have a hankering for something to make your day brighter). Before you go saying that it's just a method of burying your head in the sand and ignoring the horrible things going on, however, I'd like to point out that horrible things are going on every second, every day... but so are good things. Why should we focus only on the negative?

     Another argument in favor of watching happy news is simply logic. I figured out a while ago that there are only so many things I can deal with in a day. If I burden myself with things that I truly, honestly have absolutely no way to influence, then all it's doing is making me feel bad. But if I focus on a few things that I can affect positively, and then fill the rest of my time with things that positively affect me, then a) I feel better, b) I have better energy to put into the things I can do something about, and c) people around me pick up on the fact that hey, life isn't all that bad. And then they in turn can perk up and pass that on to others. Not a bad way to live, really.

Good sites:
Feel Good News
Huffington Post's collection of positive stories.
Pictures, videos, and news articles from around the world.
The aptly named Optimist World.
And of course, no list is complete without Lolcats.

Enjoy!

Spring Break

     Spring break started, for me, this past Thursday. Given the usual irregularity of plane tickets, it turned out that leaving early would save me a couple hundred dollars in airfare, so I sacrificed a day or two of work in order to get the lower prices. The flight was bumpy as all get out, but at least it didn't snow, rain, hail, sleet, freeze, or otherwise get delayed. Sometimes, that's all you can ask for.

     The past few weeks have been pretty stressful with graduation looming over me. I try to be one of those people who plan ahead and are prepared for anything, so having an abrupt end to the entire way of life I'm used to is a bit unnerving. This weekend helped that no small bit, just by my gentleman and I being able to find an affordable place to live. It's not our dream place, of course, but since I don't have a job lined up yet (and therefor don't know where I'll have to commute to or what my income/ budget will be), we opted to err on the safe side. Still, it's a nice, open place that is roughly the square footage we were looking for, and in a gorgeous neighborhood with lots of walking/ biking paths, so no complaints!

Good days and bad days

Saturday:

• Did laundry (down 2 flights of stairs),
• Washed sheets (also 2 flights of stairs),
• Hand-washed my winter coat,
• Did the dishes,
• Cleaned out the fridge,
• Cleaned out the cabinets,
• Culled old clothes that no longer fit from the closet,
• Put stuff up on eBay,
• Wrote up a study guide for Russian Fairy Tales midterm,
• Watched Russian cartoons to expand vocab and listening comprehension,
• Read a (short) French book,

FTP 43 - Try new things

     Many years ago, I worked at a casino in the food court. Being a friendly (if introverted) person, I soon got to know pretty much everyone on all three shifts in all of the restaurants and the production areas. One day, one of the guys who worked in the bakery pulled me aside and asked if I wanted to go to a concert with him. It turned out he was the drummer for a punk band that would be playing in Worcester, MA, and wanted me to go with him. Despite having no real interest in punk music, I figured it would be interesting, and agreed.

     On the day of the show, I drove over to his place, and right away, things got amusing. He'd decided at some point in the past to take out the front seat of his car in order to fit his skateboards (yes, plural) in there, so I rode in the back passenger seat, with loads of legroom. We chatted the whole way up there, and discovered, once we got there, that the people who were supposed to help get things set up hadn't shown. The guy who drove their gear up looked at me and said, "well, any interest in being a roadie for a night?" I laughed, because no not really, but said I'd be happy to help, long as they showed me what to do.

Lol, no. But thanks.

     It didn't get any more serious after that, either. To my surprise, my friend's band was the headliner (which meant they went onstage at like midnight...), so I had a lot of waiting around to do. Being a responsible person, however, I was back at the place about 15 minutes before time, and found out that my friend was the only band member there. Since someone had to be there, he asked me to go hunt down the members of his band... at midnight... in a town I didn't know... for people I'd met all of once. Somehow, I managed to do so, and they all got on stage on time, where I promptly discovered that no, thanks, I am not a fan of punk music. We finally packed everything back into the trailer at 1:30 or so, and my friend and I started back to Connecticut.

     Am I glad I went? Heck yes. I had a very interesting time, and learned a lot. Some of it was what I'm not interested in, but by doing those things, I have narrowed down a lot of possibilities, and it gets easier to find what I do like. Cheers!

Fickle popularity

     When I was in ninth grade, I was part of an after-school program called Dow Explorers (hosted, obviously, by the local Dow Chemicals plant). Once a month or so, a group of us would get together and do simple experiments or projects that tied in to math and science, presumably as a way to see if we were interested in working for said company. I didn't really pay much attention to that side of it, because what we got to do was absolutely fascinating to someone with a sense of exploration. One month we had to bring in water samples from our homes or nearby lakes, and we did various tests to see how much of what additives were in them. Another time we got to learn how the company made Styrofoam and tour the production facility. And one time, we got to make boats...

     One of the nearby towns had a yearly regatta-type thing, being situated on a rather large and fairly calm river. A month or two before it, the people in charge of our program asked us to bring a willing parent/ guardian in, and we split up into teams (kids vs elders) in order to design and build a raft- using only x amount of styrofoam and other materials- that we would then test by participating in the regatta. Naturally, none of us were expected to actually win it, it was more just a "let's give 'em something to do, while showing how invested we are in the community" type thing.

FTP 35 - Word problems

     In an effort to retain some shreds of coherency, I'm taking today off of work and the one class that's right in the middle of the day. Instead of the usual chaos of this week, I instead finished a couple minor projects for French class, got caught up on homework for Russian, proofread the paper that's due tomorrow in lit/ culture class, cleaned the house, had a real meal, rescheduled everything for the next two weeks to make a little more sense, and generally got my affairs in order. Life is still chaotic, but at least it's controlled chaos at this point.

     In the midst of everything, however, life still goes on. Remember way back when, struggling with word problems in middle or high school? The most common question asked was "When will we ever use this in real life??" A little while ago, I got this from a friend:

So thank you, grade school math teachers. Believe it or not, you are appreciated, even if it's just by knitters and crocheters who don't want to throw away useful bits of yarn. Cheers!

SciFi lesson and attitude

     When I was younger, I read voraciously. For a variety of reasons, I didn't like hanging out with people too much, so I spent most of my time curled up in any available nook or cranny with a book. My mother encouraged us to read The Classics, to which I attribute a number of British spelling tendencies and odd sayings , but what really caught my attention was scifi and fantasy. I was constantly being warned that I would rot my brain out by reading "useless stuff," and that it was just an escape from the real world, but I feel like I learned a lot from reading such novels.

     One of the most important lessons I learned from books, I feel, was how to treat others. The Classics were very big on honor, nobility and ethics, something that would come in handy when I started working, but was a bit out of touch for modern-day kid/ early teen interactions. One day, as I was reading my way through the Xanth series by Piers Anthony, I came across a version of the Iterated Prisoners' Dilemma, and a simplified answer for it (since the book was aimed at young teens, after all.) Here is a brief summary:

     Two men are arrested, but the police do not have enough information for a conviction. The police separate the two men, and offer both the same deal: if one testifies against his partner (defects/betrays), and the other remains silent (cooperates with/assists his partner), the betrayer goes free and the one that remains silent gets a one-year sentence. If both remain silent, both are sentenced to only one month in jail on a minor charge. If each 'rats out' the other, each receives a three-month sentence. Each prisoner must choose either to betray or remain silent; the decision of each is kept secret from his partner. What should they do?

Unexpected backstory

    As I've mentioned before, I have a habit of befriending generations before me, primarily (I believe) because I was raised to be polite. I take time to listen to people, and let them know that I really do appreciate hearing their stories, because you never know what you're going to learn. To be sure, sometimes you learn that you don't really want to continue that acquaintance, but there are some pretty powerful stories hidden in very unlikely places.

     Recently, as I was going downstairs to switch my laundry over, I ran into a gentleman with whom I'd exchanged pleasantries a number of times; typically I'd be on my way to work or school and he'd be leaning on the railing by his door. He seemed a nice enough person, always smiling or finding something positive to say, and I'd figured he was retired and in a similar financial situation to me- I can't imagine that anyone would live in this complex who could afford better. Today, however, I saw him sitting on the bench in the center of the building, and he mentioned he hadn't seen me in a while, so I wandered over to chat with him.

Progress, perhaps

     Throughout the ages, it seems, people have always railed against the laziness and linguistic corruption of their younger generations, and deplored the horrible misspellings, grammatical errors, and sloppy depths that language had newly fallen to. George Orwell lamented in a 1946 article that the English language in his time had become slovenly and vague. In 1848, a renowned German linguist bemoaned the corruption of English, the "most ground-down" of all Germanic languages, and which was liable to sink into mono-syllabicy within the near future. Going back further, prescriptive linguists, politicians, educators, and philosophers have been off and on lamenting the degradation of English ever since it was officially declared a separate language from Middle English, sometime in the 15th century. If you're really curious, there's a good list here, and several other can be found by searching "decline of English throughout history," but there are far too many to name. Needless to say, it's not a new phenomenon.

     There are, of course, two schools of thought on this. On the one hand, yes, English language needs grammar and spelling rules... mostly to allow "educated" people to feel proud of their education and "proper" usage of the language. On the other hand, descriptive linguists argue- persuasively- that language is a living, evolving thing. All languages, they note, change over time, as new words are needed through technological advances, and old words fall out of common usage. English, with its penchant for borrowing from any other convenient language, tends to change faster than most, but it's certainly not alone.

48 hours

     Not two days ago, I had sat down to write a follow-up to Thursday's story of being sick. It was all about how I'd finally just faced the music, accepted that I was sick and took care of myself. I was very proud because I got tea, got aspirin and cough drops, and slept for like 20 hours straight. I wasn't happy about the fact that I was ill, but I was at least going to take care of myself.

     Today, however, I'm feeling both not as good, and yet better, after a mere 48 hours. Today was Navy Day- a celebration and remembrance of people who serve or have served in the Navy. We had heard that there was going to be a big parade to kick the day off, and then we could take tours of the boats, so Petra (my Croatian friend) and I got up at 9:30 and took the bus down to the river. We didn't see anything, though, so we walked across the bridge to the other side of the river, just in time to see them start breaking down grandstands and camera crews.

The Russian version of a news truck.

Apologies

     It was brought to my attention that the casual mention on Wednesday of when I was raped was not something many of you were prepared for, and I apologize for that. I have been working and focussing on it for a number of months now, and have finally accepted it, so I didn't realize I hadn't let people in on what was going on. I tend to be fairly close-mouthed when it comes to personal stuff- it was not intended to make anyone feel left out.

     The short version is that I was raped, six years ago, by someone I'd known for a long time as a friend. He told me not to tell anyone and that it was my fault for "being too sexy," and like an idiot, I believed him. I guess the guilt got to him, because he then went and told his wife (and girlfriend... he was not what I'd call a moral person), and they believed it was my fault, and came after me. After much mental and emotional abuse, I finally cut all contact with him, and tried to forget it happened. I didn't tell anyone because, well, it was my fault, right? I know it's not now, but what can I say.

    I hid most of myself from everyone for years afterwards, and the few relationships I attempted went horribly, because I'd internalized his lies that all I was good for was sex. It wasn't until last year, when my sister Suzanne died that it all came back to me, and I started trying to accept it. I was still pretty bitter and closed-in, though, until a chance remark to a friend in WoW opened the door, and he hit me with some hard truths I needed to hear about not letting it hold me back. Maybe I felt it was safe to talk to him because he was only a friend on WoW, and if he considered me a whore and a victim, I could just stop talking to him- I wouldn't potentially lose a close friend or family member.

Quick update #1

     The school in NY finally got around to sending out a sheet to sign up for the actual seminars in Russia. Yes, it seems like a little last-minute since we're leaving on Friday, but what can you do. Most of the classes available (that we've already signed up for on their school webpage) require two seminars, which are held in blocks of 2 hours, M/W/F. Naturally, the class that I'm signed up for that isn't Russian language only requires one seminar... and cultural excursions... and a research project to be done while we're over there. Sigh!

     So I'm really, really hoping that the excursions we do for this class are a) less involved, b) less frequent, and c) more apt to get us fed than the ones from the last time I was there. I'm not entirely sure what the research project entails, but I'm hoping that it's easy enough to work up and type out on a laptop. In Russia. We shall see.

     In other news, I'm having a fantastic time with Elf and Angel out here, although the scorching hot weather seems to have followed me out here, and it is 10 degrees hotter than they have predicted for the entire next week. If this happens in Russia, I'll consider selling myself out to areas threatened with severe winters... Anyhow, I'll check in again once I'm on the move and headed towards Russia. Enjoy!

In a funk

Periodically in my life, this happens:

Without fail, this follows:

Friendship

     When I was younger, my dad was in the Navy and we moved around every three years. While on the one hand, this was incredibly mind-opening, it also made keeping friends rather difficult, and I've never been very good at writing letters and staying in touch. I developed a rather lackadaisical attitude towards friendship, and assumed that, since I knew I had to accept our moves and get on with life, leaving my friends behind me, then they must know that as well, and they would forget me as soon as I moved away. The first time I actually moved back to a place I'd lived before, I was stunned that people actually remembered me and wanted to catch up.

     Unfortunately, I've also had some pretty spectacular betrayals handed to me from friends I counted as my closest. Sometimes it was based on guys, sometimes it was based on money, but both of my "best friends" from the two high schools I attended ended up attacking me personally when I finally called them  on their passive aggressive behavior, and another very close friend walked out and left me holding a newly-signed lease on my own. Between the distance that I assumed was part of friendship as a child, and the distance that I put between myself and others after multiple horrible endings, I've never really felt completely comfortable with the idea of friendship.

FTP 13 - Get up and...

     Of course, sometimes it also helps to have someone around to give that starter kick. This week has not been the best for me, until Angel suggested I go work on a friend's yard, where I have a garden and am doing minor landscaping. Suddenly, the week looks a lot better. You're still the one who has to get up and do it though. Come on, you know you'll feel better once you do. 

Perfectionism and 'thank you's

     Have you ever been around a perfectionist? Once of those people who have to have everything just so, and have to be always on top of things, always on time, always exactly the way the think it should be? While I do have perfectionist leanings (what, my GPA is 3.8??? Unacceptable!), I have learned to calm down a bit overall. Perfectionists are rarely happy, because the world is not exactly so, and there will always be conflicting ideas of what needs done. Perfectionism assumes a certain level of expectations. If you fall below them, you will be criticized; if you meet them (however ridiculously high they are), well, that's to be expected. There is no such thing as going above and beyond, because perfect is the limit, so do not act surprised when you are not complimented or thanked.

     One memory that sticks with me pretty clearly is one day when I was a child, probably 8 or 9 years old, I decided to help my mom out while she was out of the house. I knew she didn't really like vacuuming, but with three kids, two dogs and a cat in the house, it was a chore that needed done on a pretty regular basis. So I dragged the vacuum out, hooked it all together (this was before upright, single-piece vacuums were common), and managed to get all three levels of the house done before she made it home from whatever errands she had that day. I even remembered to clean it out, rinse out the basin, and put the vacuum away, and was feeling pretty proud of myself.