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Last Diary Update: 05/09/02
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Saturday, May 18, 2002
Assorted Links for a Poor Lost Post.
This entry number accidently got skipped; why let the poor thing go to waste?
11:52 AM PST (link)
Last night The Boyfriend and I saw the West Coast premiere of the documentary Gigantic: A Tale of Two Johns at the San Francisco Indie Festival's DocFest. The movie was pretty good; very good if you're a fan of They Might Be Giants. If nothing else, it should be noted that the camera-shy Ira Glass actually appears on film. He doesn't even hide behind the microphone. Much.
Regrettably, the film was showing at Studio Z (formerly the Transmission Theater.) I say unfortunately because it's a 21-and-over venue. So the family who brought their teenage, They-head daughters to see the film couldn't come in, even after waiting outside the theater in the cold for nearly two hours (they were late opening the doors due to sound problems.) Someone somewhere—either a festival organizer or the owner of the space—neglected to mention this on any of the promotional materials. So we all had to file in past a crying 14-year-old girl, frustrated and disappointed that she couldn't see her favorite band's new movie. Ouch.
I might have forgotten about it after the movie if the point hadn't been drilled home during the movie itself; smart junior-high and high-school students make up one segment of the TMBG fan base, attracted by Their clever lyrics and quirky sound. So the scene of a teenage girl crying after having met John and John was poignant, not just because of memories of my own sometimes awkward and painful adolescence.
I know the Johns love playing for kids too...They're even releasing a new kids album, No!, in June, which looks to be as much fun for big kids as for little ones.
11:52 AM PST (link)
Thursday, May 16, 2002
As I walked out of the cafe today, I held my breath as usual while walking through a cloud of smoke from a couple of people who take their breakfast there every morning. They sit at a table right outside the door and smoke and drink coffee; the blue-gray haze over them seems thicker on warm days like today. I admit I thought something uncharitable about them for a minute, until I realized that, frankly, it wasn't that long ago when I might have been one of them.
While the whole non-smoking thing isn't much of an issue for me anymore at this point, but it's always nice to acknowledge one's successes: today is the 1000th day that I've been without a cigarette.
(Now if I can try to lose the weight I gained in the process, we'll be golden.)
12:57 AM PST (link)
Wednesday, May 15, 2002
How Long Have You Felt This Way?
During the meeting, another employee (who I don't know) and I started to answer a question about our company's brand at the same time:
Me: No, go ahead.
If I had a therapist, this might have occupied all of next week's session.
04:14 PM PST (link)
All Things Must Passzzzz...
For a required training session, I'm reading an article from the Center for Quality of Management Journal. I'm also falling asleep in my cup of coffee as I read it. If it were just boring and poorly written, that would be one thing. But the piece uses a tone and cadence to describe its management concepts ("Eliminating the Seven Wastes," "The Five Principles of Lean Systems") that reminds me discongruously of Buddhist dogma ("The Four Noble Truths," "The Three Pillars of the Eightfold Path.") Of course, Buddhist Management and Business principles aren't a new idea; I can understand the need and appeal for this.
The part that bothers me is that I know, somewhere, someone has tacky, stock photography of someone wearing saffron robes over a business suit. And they aren't afraid to use it.
01:02 PM PST (link)
Tuesday, May 14, 2002
How Dry I Am.
Now, I realize that office managers purposefully keep their buildings dry. But you know the leaf that attacked me yesterday morning? It's dry as a bone. Last week I dropped a pea from my salad and didn't see where it went. One day later I found it; it looked and felt like something out of a Cup'O'Noodles. If this is what happens to other organic matter in this office, what is it doing to me?
Someday, someone's going to come in and find a mound of instant coffee on my chair.
11:31 AM PST (link)
Monday, May 13, 2002
If you were at Mission and 11th Street today at about 9AM, you would have seen a man in black suddenly shriek and flail his arms madly above his head; he would then begin to desperately claw at his back while trying to balance a coffee cup and his shoulder bag. It would have been quite a sight.
If you were to follow him, you'd see him twitching all the way to work, snapping at his suspenders and lifting up his jacket with one hand, or pressing his back against the MUNI train trying to kill whatever had crawled back there.
He would twitch all the way to Pete's coffee, where he'd get condescending looks from dumb girls in tight t-shirts in line. He'd be wondering if they could smell something he couldn't, and visions of bird poop down his shirt would fill his head. Then he'd twitch up to the counter where an indifferent barista would literally sniff and say, "What's this?" about the leftover coffee in his cup. (Yes, Aaron, I still tipped them a dollar, even though the rest of the transaction was basically wordless. Superstition is strong indeed.)
You wouldn't be able to follow him into his office, where he'd finally get a chance to drop his suspenders and lift up his shirt to find the small leaf that fell into the gap between shirt and skin on 11th street. He'd slump back into his chair, victorious.
That's when he'd knock his coffee all over his desk.
10:21 AM PST (link)