(no subject)

I have never been so glad of a three-am asshole in my life.

My front-door buzzer (they press your flat number, you press to let them in, etc) just woke me up by ringing repeatedly. As an aside, the asshole who was trying to be let in, who was actually trying to get to the flat across the hall and apparently banking on my letting him in to shut him up, is now getting a rich and full-bodied scolding in very satisfying profane Spanish from my neighbour.

I did not let him in, but I am grateful to him, because I was in the middle of a dream where Stephen Collins, or rather the father character he plays on the utterly terrifying family drama Seventh Heaven, was my father and I was being forced to drive around town being lectured by him on duty because I ditched my post as a pizza delivery driver for some reason or other.

JUST PROOF THAT LIFE COULD BE WORSE, that's all I'm saying. And thank you, three-am asshole.

Knew I shoulda left another fucking bowl of milk out for the pixies.

Review: The Rescue Artist, by Edward Dolnick

Review time!

( The Rescue Artist )

It is really nice to read a nonfiction book that isn't pushing a heavy political or scholarly agenda, I will say that. Dolnick is mainly just telling stories, and while he does seem to have some biases, they don't affect the story and the story clearly isn't written to push them. He's an engaging writer with a smooth style, and he spins a good yarn.

Ultimately, I enjoyed the book, but it's definitely a Get From Library book, a one-time read unless you're a museum sciences student or a really huge fan of The Scream. :D It's just not something you really need to read twice, except as a scholarly source.

For your delectation, some ( Quotes! )

(no subject)

Rare Free Verse Found On A Train
By Ellis Graveworthy

Attention passengers:
We are delayed due to an individual
Who relieved himself
on the train in front of us
And has had to be removed from the train.
There's always someone
Who's having a worse day than you are.

***

I actually had a good day, or at any rate not a bad one. I've been leaving for interviews earlier than I think I should and getting there on time, so the law of averages had to predict that I'd be obscenely early for at least one of them. No matter, I found a cafe and had an orange juice and read my book (Death Makes A Holiday, which I think some of you will really like).

I'm glad that's the last interview of the week, because my one nice interview suit is getting a bit abused-looking. The latest agency, which places people specifically at educational institutions in and around Chicago, has arranged to put me in touch with the hiring manager for a job that, while amusingly absurd, I don't think I'll reveal until I've interviewed for it.

I have more testing to do, however, so I'll be scarce again. Other than that...saw some neat sculptures, took some photos, said hi to my mailman. As a reward for all this interviewing I'm going to a play tomorrow night -- actually, though I was hoping to schedule at least one play a week for the forseeable future, I'm going to three in the next four days. What can I say? Theatre here is like pot in Canada -- potent and cheap.

I'm a plothead.

(no subject)

I'm glad my interviews are over. They psych me up, even the ones that don't "matter", and of course making yourself seem way more sane than you are is always tiring. So I come home and I've got all this adrenaline and nothing to do with it. I've put off taking my last two qualification tests for the temp agencies because I know I'd get impatient and fail them, though I did score five points above percentile on the Powerpoint and "Employee Attitude" tests. Also, the second typing test for today's agency netted me a 115 wpm.

I don't want to read and certainly don't want to write; I don't even want to cook, but I'm not hungry so that hardly matters. I don't want to go out, I don't want to plan to go out, but I wander around my little flat restlessly. I could hang some posters (my walls are still bare except for a dozen nails with paper maps impaled on them) but I'd get impatient with that too, and anyway I have no tacks.

It isn't loneliness; I've lived alone for a third of my life and, even if it were, I have plenty of people I could talk to via IM or phone. I'm too twitchy though. Network TV is boring (cable wouldn't be any better, I have a feeling). I feel a bit like I'm "sundowning", which is a term for the increased agitation and confusion that many people with dementia suffer toward the end of the day.

I'm happy living here, and I feel like I'm finally on an upswing and headed for employment. That's very satisfying, and takes some of the stress off me, it really does. My flat is reasonably well arranged, I have some books and my CDs and most of the cooking implements I need, I have good healthy food in the fridge and warm clothing.

I'm just restless. I'm sure it's the interview comedown, but it's annoying all the same. I even tried cleaning my desk, but that took all of thirty seconds.

HI. LET ME INTRODUCE MYSELF, MY NAME IS HOLDEN CAULFIELD.

*sighs* I'm going to go take a shower and a nap.