One Girl Revolution

Bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored.

Please to be ending this day now. San kyu.

Something Horrible has happened in the office kitchen and fridge. And yes, the capitalization of Horrible is justified in this case, because it really, truly is Horrible. Really really.

To start things off, something died and/or exploded in the fridge, meaning that there is some sort of liquid seeping along the bottom shelf. You know, the place where I keep my organic milk and apples. I know it's none of my stuff that's to blame, as I only bought it last week and it was in fine condition then. Well, not anymore. Whatever this hideous liquid is, it's drowned both the apple and the bottom of the cardboard milk carton. Much as I hate to waste food, I'd rather not take a gamble with whatever foul and fetid liquid is currently saturating it. So out it goes.

That would be fine, except for the fact that the milk is there for my coffee. I don't do the black coffee thing, and I don't plan to start now. But by the same token, I don't want to store ANYTHING in that fridge until it has been thoroughly sanitized. I'm also very hesitant to start using the powdered creamer in the kitchen. Why?

Because there's another stench that has invaded the kitchen in general, one completely unrelated to the fridge stench. It is rumored that our secretary suspects a dead mouse.

Dead mouse in the kitchen. The same place where we prepare our lunches. Dead mouse.

And so the kitchen will be avoided until further notice.

So what am I going to do until then? With no milk, there can be no coffee, but with no coffee, there will be agony. Therefore, I will be seeking out tea in an attempt to stave off the inevitable withdrawal headaches - I'm leaning toward this brand and blend, but if any of you have other suggestions, I'd be open to them.

Please. Otherwise, my life may start to look something like this.

In other news, I finally made use of my Virgin of Guadalupe candle last night, shocking as it may be. I don't know what compelled me to do it - I've certainly never prayed for intercession before - but it seemed to bring me a sense of peace, and I'm not going to argue with that. I don't like to shift responsibility, but I've noticed recently that whenever I start thinking about the apparent dead ends of the job search, the worries about getting theycallmeboy over here, and just everything about life in general, I get very depressed and hopeless. That's not fair to anyone, so I figure that I may as well start appealing to outside sources. I did a little improvised ceremony, asking for things individually and then lighting the candle at the end. It certainly can't hurt anything, though considering the queue, I probably shouldn't expect any sort of results for anything for the next 15 to 20 years.

But hey - people get married in their mid- to late 40s all the time. And you seem to earn people's grudging respect when you work a job you hate for ages so you can pay the bills. Thinking positive, people. Positive.

And if that doesn't work, there's always chemical inspiration. It's the NEO way, after all.

As if I needed another reason to get the hell out of this office.

So we have a kitchen in our office. Nothing huge, just a place with a fridge and a sink and a little counter space and two microwaves, one of which does not appear to work for me. And like most offices, people have their cups and bowls and water bottles and what have you.

There were no sponges or dish rags or towels when I got here. Apparently there used to be, but people didn't like the sponges because they would get old, dirty, moldy, whatever, and no one would take home the towels to wash them. Instead, people used or used paper towels. I thought that was a bit wasteful, and since it's no big deal for me to toss a couple of extra things into the laundry, I decided to take it upon myself to buy some dish rags and towels for everyone to use. I'm trying to be a good citizen here - no altruism or anything like that. I just want to save some trees.

This were going well until a few weeks ago, when I noticed that one of the towels had gone missing. Ok, I reasoned. Something had happened, or maybe the towel got mixed up at home or something. No big deal, I'll go and get another set of two towels, so we'll have a total of three.

But this morning I came in to find that yet another towel was missing. A towel I had bought maybe two days ago.

I checked the drawers and the cabinets. No towel. And then something occurred to me, and I checked the trash.

And I found the towel.

So apparently I'm working with a bunch of idiots, or at least those with the apparent maturity level of 13 year olds. Hee hee, I'm gonna throw away this towel! That'll show that tree-hugger what happens when you give a shit about something other than yourself!

I do not have the words to describe how pissed I am about this. Yes, I'm a nice person. No, I don't mind doing nice things. But I am sick and tired of people pulling this kind of shit because they think that nice equals "doormat" or "someone to ridicule". I have been dealing with this shit since I was in elementary school, for fuck's sake. People telling me that I was stupid for doing this and that, because "it won't make any difference" or "because no one will care."

Well, you know something? I care, you fuckers. And while I may not be rich or famous, I do like to think that I count as someone. So you know what that means? IT MEANS SOMEONE CARES. Let me put that into an equation for you:

kiji_kat = Someone

Someone + (caring attitude) = Someone who cares

Simple, innit? Now get a fucking clue and stop throwing shit that I bought with my own money for the benefit of you and EVERYONE ELSE IN THIS FUCKING OFFICE into the trash. I'm not asking for you to praise me. I'm not even asking for you to go out of your way to acknowledge what I do. I'm asking for some god damn respect.

Seriously, it's shit like this that makes me wonder why I even try.

I'm back from New York. And apparently while I was out, our publisher decided to take the liberty to rifle through things on my desk.

Right. I think it's time to start sending out resumes like crazy.

More to come later.

I am going on vacation to NYC tomorrow.

In order to relieve the stress-induced backache I have developed here today, I will have to take the following steps upon my arrival:

1) Find nearest Irish bar/pub.

2) Call over bartender. Tell him to bring a pitcher.

3) Fill aforementioned pitcher with a mix of Bailey's, whiskey, and a shot of everclear for taste.

4) Consume.

5) Leave my stool, find a quiet area of the floor.

6) Lie down and wait.

Once I'm out of here, I'll probably post a slightly cheerier entry. Just bear with me for the time being.

I'll be heading out for a business trip and probably won't have much in the way of internet access until Thursday. I might be able to check my e-mail, but blog entries will most likely be right out. Don't worry - tales when I return, along with a continuation of the epic dramedy that is my life, especially focusing on my dual quests to become a music journalist and rid the world of narrow-mindedness.

In other news, there is a wholesale ant slaughter going on in the women's restroom here at work. I'm not sure how I feel about this.

The Good News- I'm not at work! YAY!

The Bad News- And it's because I'm still ill! BOO!

After waking up feverish and faint, I dragged myself to the first official doctor's appointment I've had since college. So now I have a primary care physician, and that's good. And I have insurance, which is even better.

But according to said doctor, who read the carefully constructed time line of events and symptoms (Yes, I typed one up. Yes, I'm a geek.), listened to me breathe (and cough/gag), and looked in my nose, throat and ear, I have something called acute sinusitis.

In layman's terms, this is a disease that occurs when bacteria set up camp deep within the cavernous recesses of your head. In my case, the bacteria have even gone so far as to set up microscopic yurts, as well as sending out scouts to look for fertile grazing lands for their sheep. Had I waited much longer, they could have started constructing crude permanent settlements and making their first forays into a structured social hierarchy. And that would have been bad. You never want your bacteria to start getting organized. That's how wars get started.

I have medicine now, and lots of it. Frankly, I didn't think they made prescription bottles that big. And I also didn't know that you could take that many antibiotics in one day. I'm going to have incredibly sterile innards.

And that's not even counting the other bottle of medicine, this one for to make me both breathe and cough, though not at the same time. I'm more pleased about that one, really. It's been about a week since I've had sufficient oxygen, and I kind of miss the feeling. I just wish I wasn't coughing so much. It makes the already painful left side of my face hurt even more.

But at least the yurts will be gone. Hopefully.

Ok, I'm going to go lay down. I feel like a slacker, since I should be using this time to write, look for a new job, clean my room, or otherwise be productive. But I just want to close my eyes and attempt to sleep. For like, two minutes. Even two minutes would be nice.

I'll have to go into work tomorrow anyway, so I might as well be rested up. Stupid work. Stupid bacteria. Stupid yurts.

A weak but tenacious variant of the Zombie Doom Virus has been attempting to sabotage my holiday. The closest it came to succeeding was Christmas Day, during which I spent most of my time asleep in bed.

I finally broke down and took some generic Robitussin so I could sleep without a) choking on drainage, or b) coughing and gasping for air. To further ensure the demise of this viral invader, I will be sleeping with both socks AND a hat on tonight. Beat that.

In other news, my voice is now low and raspy enough that I could probably do a decent Axl Rose impression. And I'd try it, too, if my throat didn't hurt so damn bad.

Time for shower and bed now. I need to go to work tomorrow. Stupid work.