Strangely Socialised

I am about to apply for a job that I’m completely qualified for, and yet suspect I might be considered too old for. Which is kind of like a bucket of cold water in the face, you know? I still think of myself as a somewhat recent university graduate, but when I do the math I’ve had an awful lot of life experience since then. I look in the mirror and I don’t – quite – see what I’m expecting to see. In all objective senses I’m still young, but I’m not that twentysomething anymore and I sometimes I really miss her.

In brighter and less navel-gazing news, the girlfriend earned her PhD this week. And there was much rejoicing! Since I was sweet talked into copy editing for her, I’ve already read her thesis and I think it was amazing. Highly deserving of being awarded her degree.

My mother has been going around telling everyone that there’s a PhD in the family now, which I think is two parts enthusiasm and one part thinly-veiled hint. I once hoped that my brother’s enormous 300-person-plus wedding was enough to appease her, but I’m her only little girl so I guess that just doesn’t count.

Well, we’ll have to see.

I’ll be honest, I usually need a little pulling and prodding to actually get anything done, even when I want it. It’s too easy to become complacent, to think that the job is good enough, the money is good enough, the life is good enough, even when you aren’t happy. Or even when I’m not happy, as the case happens to be.

Just a little pushing, though. A well-timed “What the fuck are you doing?” usually does the trick; I just need to hear it, not just think it to myself over and over again. So I got Kay (not her real name, I do protect the innocent here. well, no, not really. I’m just feeling cagy.) to kick my ass every time I start complaining about my job. Because no one’s got me chained down here, no one’s making me stay. No one’s making me stay in this city (serious love-hate relationship there) except me.

Just for posterity’s sake, right now, I’m working on yet another bit about CAIS, after working on yet another bit about shooting cull cows. The same again and again and again, and I’ll never complain about being employed because I remember what it was like not to be, but I’m better than this.

Kick my ass, please!

You know you want to.

Random quotes from work today:

“The fungus invades the fetus and red or white ringworm-like lesions can be seen in the fetal skin. If the fetus remains in the uterus for any length of time after death, postmortem degeneration will hide the lesions.”

“Some calves have an inherent ability to shoot a pressurized line of watery manure in an impressive bow without seeming to soil either their tail or the surrounding area.”

“There is as much information in a cow�s ass as there is in your average encyclopedia.”

I love my job. Yeah, uh huh, I do. Really. Ugh.

So two big things going on in my life right now, one probably bigger than the other but both of which I’m very, very excited about.

First of all, after years of vaguely thinking about it and a few weeks/months of seriously thinking about it, I’m going to go overseas to teach later this year. I’ve started on the preliminary stuff right now, foremost of which is getting my passport renewed and deciding where I want to go.

The plan right now is, spend the first year in Korea or China. Why? First of all, they don’t require formal TEFL training, which is hard for me to come by while still working full-time here. Second of all, they tend to include accommodations and airfare and other perks, which means less money for me to put up up front just to get myself there. And third, I lived in the Philippines for a year, so I have some experience in that area of the world, know what to expect from culture shock, that sort of thing. It seems the best choice, and it should allow me to save up a significant amount of money.

After a year of that, the plan is to take one of the TEFL programs offered in Prague, because my real goal is to end up in eastern Europe. At that point, I should have the money saved up to do it, and to take care of myself for a while before I find a position. I have my eye on Krakow, Poland, but I know I need the formal training first plus at least a year of experience.

So that’s what I’m working towards right now, but first thing’s first. Passport, and find an agency or job.

The second big thing going on in my life is a web magazine that a friend of mine is going to be launching, called Dykeadelic, and I’m now on staff and helping get the project off the ground. I won’t say too much about it now, but I’m really excited about the whole thing.

Taking a few minutes away from work before I bust something. Believe me, a few minutes of me-time makes for a much more productive afternoon in the long run. Whenever I start to feel like I can’t sit here for another moment without throwing something, it’s time for a break.

At least there was some amusement this morning as I was racing through the light articles. Sometimes I don’t think the columnists actually read the words they’ve written. Either that, or none of them have much of a dirty mind, which I find hard to believe. Even the purest of people understand innuendo, they just tend to blush at it rather than laugh heartily. The passage in question is this: “… Just once I complained about having no leg room, and somebody offered this solution: “Eat yourself out.” So I do.”

Come on, you can’t tell me it’s just me. I left it verbatim, by the way.

The editor is being the biggest pain in the ass today. I can’t even really express the assitude. He doesn’t come into the office, he doesn’t know what’s going on, and he thinks he’s way more efficient than he really is. Here we are right up against a deadline and we’re out of copy and he’s saying that we should be fine, that we should have plenty. Well, no. No, we really, really don’t. I’m not quite sure how many more different ways I can tell him this. And yet he insists that his work is done.

If only it was appropriate to slap your editors upside the head.

Huh. Maybe that’s why he never comes into the office. There would be a line.

So I work as a typesetter/copy editor/assistant editor/assistant designer/production grunt. And in said position I have the “good fortune” to see just about everything that goes into the paper before it goes out. This tends to encourage a person to form some pretty strong opinions, especially when the paper tends to be right-wing, and said person is not. The paper also tends to employ some pretty stupid writers. (Stupid is a word that, yes, I throw around quite a bit. People are stupid, though.)

And I hate having to read over and over again how they don’t get computers, computer are stupid (they don’t understand how to work them, so they must be stupid!), new technology is no good, the old ways are — without fail — better. My 80-year-old grandmother has email, you dimwits. There’s only one Dave Barry, and you’re not him. You can’t get away with dismissing technology and sound like you’re smarter than the average seven-year-old. Ignorance doesn’t impress people, least of all me. I loathe people who handwrite their articles in this day and age. It’s unprofessional.

You suck.