The Comfort of Common Sense

I may have to revert back to my old practice of not reading the news. The headlines add up and overwhelm me these days, and while I remind myself that the media sensationalizes, the basic facts of poverty, disaster and political foolishness remain. Obsessive red tape and policy shroud our lives to such a degree that we stop functioning like human(itarian) beings. I see this increasingly at my workplace, as well as in the operations of government, where humans in crisis take place below political posturing and ego.

I had an instance today that sent me home for lunch in tears of frustration. How could something so simple be made to be so complicated? There are days when I can feel a chain of frustration, weariness and anger being forged one link at a time. Each link is a discomfited employee, and today felt heavy with the weight of all of them. Call it an administration out of touch with employees, an organization struggling to modernize practices... as much as the employees would like to sort things out in a reasonable way, we end up being a terrible burden to each other as we manage the daily confusion and fallout from administrative decisions. Days like this make a lunch break a time of readjustment.

I go home for lunch when I can, and I always have a book waiting for me, if not a sunny stoop and some good leftovers. Today I continued the Essays of E.B. White. White is the author of Charlotte's Web, Stuart Little, The Trumpeter Swan, not to mention the revisionist of The Elements of Style (Strunk & White), and a superb essayist. The book of essays I'm reading range from the 50's to the 70's. While I may take a hiatus from the news, I'm certainly don't want to bury my head in the sand. I'd rather spend my time reading the well voiced, reasonable and quiet outrage of White as he writes about exactly the issues we struggle with fifty years later. Polluted soil and polluted food, the death of passenger trains, disarmament, the ways of politicians... White comforts me with common sense, even as he writes about his prescient frustrations with the world. His reflections are sometimes laments, sometimes acceptance, often nostalgic, always wry - a combination that soothes my wounded spirit, makes me feel a sense of companionship in this world. I find myself thinking of his gift with words throughout the day, and it braces me. Like a good friend who sympathizes without sacrificing honesty, he does not patronize, is not over familiar, and shares enough of himself to establish trust and empathy.

Charlotte's Web was always my favorite book as a child, and I am thrilled to have rediscovered this author that so engaged me so many years ago. Once this book of essays is read, I have two more like it on my shelf... and I certainly won't hesitate to add his children's books to my reading list to further my free therapy. His contexts are just as captivating as his subjects, fictional or otherwise. You read it in his sketches of New York City, and the animal doings on his farm in Maine. As much as White wonders about the state of things, he is also full of wonderment.

Is That A Light I See?

Back at the beginning of February I gave my notice here at the bank. I was surprised to learn that management did not in fact want me to leave, and I was told that something else would be available for me. I left that meeting feeling pretty damned good about things.

Fast forward about a month and a half. I had applied for the position that everyone thought I should get, as the Operations Department Assistant Manager. In the end, I didn't get it. The person who did get it is far more qualified in the operations world, even if she doesn't have the management experience that I do. To be totally honest, this didn't break my heart. If I never "manage" anyone other than myself and Mark again, I'll be perfectly happy.

So, my next step was to apply for the position that was left vacant by the person who got the management job (Is this too confusing? Am I babbling like a crazy person yet?). Her position was very similar to what I did at the last bank I worked for, dealing primarily with overdrafts and the ATM/debit card world. I have not wanted a job quite possibly ever as much as I wanted this one.

The interview went pretty well in my opinion, even though I am notoriously hard on myself about things like that. There wasn't anything she could throw at me that I hadn't already had experience with. I convinced myself that obviously there was no one better suited to or qualified for this job.

I started to feel a little less hopeful after finding out that there were seven other internal candidates for this position. Surely one of them would have seniority, or would deserve it more, or would be sleeping with someone's brother. Surely one of them will get it and not me.

After waiting in agony for another week I got a phone call today. Guess what? I'M THE NEW OVERDRAFT AND ATM/DEBIT CARD PROGRAM COORDINATOR!!!!!!! SQUEEEEEE!!!!!!! WOO-HOO!!!!! (Wild dancing around the room ensues.)!!!! Break out the crazy hats and noise makers (and maybe a little wine) because I'm absolutely crazy out of my mind thrilled about this!

This means that I can finally get out of face-to-face customer service. This means that I never have to sit trapped in my office while someone who smells like the fishing docks on Rye Harbor rambles on for an hour about where their father used to bank back in the days before computers. This means that I never have to have a crazy bicycle-helmet wearing person try to use a photocopy of him with Bill Richardson as a valid "photo" ID (hey, if a possible future president knows who he is, who am I to question him?).

You wanna know what else this means? It means I get to move to another office. And you wanna know what that means? It means that I get to walk to work.High gas prices be damned! I will be walking to work.

Work rhymes with jerk

I have that stressed out at myself feeling. Not mad at myself, stressed out at myself. There's something I should have done lurking around every corner, and all I can do is expect it. It's that time of year in academia when students cry, faculty fizzle, and paperwork and chaos reign supreme. For staff it's like watching a roller coaster ride knowing there's a barfer in the front seat.

Some of this is a result of too many things to do in my particular role. Some of it is that it's "normal" to feel that way this time of year as the curtains of academic and fiscal year crash closed (shoot whoever came up with that schedule please). Quite often my "something I should have done" is really someone else's last minute remembrance of something that needs to get done. Pronto. And those kinds of things generally fall within my job of "other duties as assigned". I should have business cards with that as my title... not a good investment since I've discovered that the best use for business cards is making lists on the backs. Nice, small, manageable, pocketable lists.

Anyway, I feel jangly and incompetent. No matter how much I catch up, there's a new confusion waiting to pounce... and it makes me feel like I'm not doing my job. I'm paranoid that it makes me look to others like I'm not doing my job. And then I get stressed out at myself... which leads to a growly stressed out stomach... which you probably shouldn't feed ice cream to, even though you are really craving something creamy, sugary and comforting.

Bugger.

I Have to Stop Swapping Like This

I am participating in another yarn and goodie swap on Ravelry, a May Flowers Swap to celebrate the end of another long winter. Here's a picture of my spoils from my swapper, thedish! Thanks!

All Done

The Bruins season is over. I haven't said much to anyone about it since I sort of needed a few days to think about it. I know I must sound completely ridiculous to some people. I'm sure some of you don't care even a little bit. It's just sports, right? But I do care. I've cared for over thirty years now, and I don't see that stopping any time soon.

I'm going to do my very best to avoid the inevitable landslide of news that will accompany this loss. I don't want to hear the excuses or the attacks. I will not wander down the road of "what if." What if Bergeron hadn't gotten hurt? What if we had seen Manny Fernandez this year? What if Phil Kessel didn't end up on the bench for three games? What if Glen Murray could have played all of game seven? What if the officiating went our way? None of that matters. It didn't matter a few months ago and it doesn't matter now.

I'm going to go outside of all of this and give my Bruins some love. I'm not going to say that I'm not really disappointed. I am. I couldn't watch most of that game. I knew the odds were still kind of against them, but I wanted to believe that it might be different this year.

They gave us a better season than anyone expected and now that I've had a bit of time to be realistic about things, I'm very pleased about that. I have a truly positive feeling about this team now and I hope that it continues. I'm almost on the verge of saying that maybe Bruins management finally have a clue and may actually have the wherewithal to give us a team worthy of their ardent fans. I enjoyed watching this season. Almost. Ask me again next season.

At least now I can console myself with the evidence that even in victory, Montreal fans are classless idiots. I'd be ashamed to be a fan of the Habs right now. Shop windows were smashed, five businesses were ransacked, people rioted in the streets and three of the dozen police cars destroyed were set on fire. Can you imagine what it would have been like if they had lost?

What Was That?

Seriously. The Bruins won last night. We're actually going to a game six. Against Montreal.

I have to admit that after Montreal scored the first goal, I wandered away, heartsick and a little disgusted. I said after the Bruins won their first game of the series that I was just happy that they didn't get swept. I lied. I want them to win this series. I want them to make the Habs cry like little babies. (Generally I'm a complete softie about things, but hockey apparently brings out my hostile side.) I came back a little while later and was pleased to see the score tied at one. I was speechless for the next four goals. Should Kessel have been benched for the last few games? They don't pay me to make those decisions, so I'll just say I'm glad he responded the way he did.

I had pretty much resigned myself to letting go of this series and saying "maybe next year." I can't decide if I'm happy that they won or if they're just tormenting me by prolonging the agony. As a Bruins fan, I am used to the disappointments. It has become (in my mind) similar to the Red Sox not winning the World Series for 86 years. I know that some thirty-odd years since winning the Cup is not 86 years, but it's been most of my lifetime and it's getting old. I would love to see the Bruins win and stop being the forgotten team in this area. A little respect is all I want.

And speaking of respect, Harry Sinden - WTF? Once again you have shamed the Bruins and their fans with your stupid, pointless remarks. You should have let go of this team years ago. You are the direct cause of many of the problems the team has faced in the past few decades. There is a management team in place, finally, that seems to 1.) Know what the hell they're doing, and 2.) Actually care about what happens. Time for your big ego to go retire to Florida. Maybe you can hook up with Phil Esposito and reminisce about your glory years. Bye now.

In any event, I am looking forward to Saturday nights game with my usual mix of anticipation and nausea. I'm a little scared to hope out loud for a positive outcome, but oh, how I want it.

If Not Now, When?

Never, that's when.

If I don't start writing blog posts right now it will just keep getting harder and harder to come back.

So many factors have conspired to prevent me from blogging. There are many times during the week that I will think of something or see something and compose a little post in my head. That's as far as it usually gets. By the time I get home, I'm usually exhausted and don't feel like writing. I did all the work to think of it, why don't you just read my mind? Thanks, that would be much easier.

Another thing that often keeps me from posting is my fear of not meeting expectations. I start to feel sort of hemmed in by the parameters of this blog, feeling like I need to talk about knitting, or cooking, or some sort of catastrophe. Thinking that most of the things that I feel like writing about don't really fall into any of those categories. Feeling like what I write should be funny or sarcastic or at least some sort of wry observation. To be honest, there hasn't been a whole lot of funny in my life for the past six months or so. My sense of humor has let me down quite a bit lately, and I'm not used to that. I feel that by posting an entry that is not about any of the expected things or if just isn't funny, I'm letting someone down.

It occurred to me this weekend that this is in fact my blog. My place to write whatever the hell I want. And I want to write stuff. It isn't going to be pretty, and it probably isn't going to be funny. It might be about knitting, it might be about the Stanley Cup playoffs, it might be about the Red Sox, it might be about a book I just read, it might be about the tricycle riding demon that lives downstairs or the ass who cut me off on the way to work. I don't know. I don't care anymore. I just felt like saying hi, and maybe I'll keep stopping by.

dammit dammit dammit

Ever put together a nice long spreadsheet of numbers in Excel that you've pulled from other worksheets, moved things around, totalled different columns for different purposes... inserted the totals from that sheet into a larger calculation... only to find (by freak chance) that an equation was wrong?

Number of curse words = COUNT of people you've already shown your incorrect figures to
Degree of stupidity = SUM of total screwed up subtotals
Reminding myself I'm only human = also being thankful that today is Friday and my boss and coworker have the weekend to try to forget what a twit I am

Erg. Time for a Friday-style beverage.