Nothing to say. I just think I need to plonk something down. Expect to be less-than-overwhelmed.
I went to P-la-P today for an orientation session for work. I gave a presentation on the details of the program. It was a presentation that I was happy with. My supervisor, maybe less so. AJ and I had taken a class through work called 'Presentation Skillz' and I applied all the recommended points. (OK. 'Skills'). I loved this class. It was two days long and I learned several things, but most importantly, that I can speak in front of people in a clear and interesting manner. It's like realising you are creative, not because you pick up a clarinet and find that, lo! it is playing you, but because you are just a person so it's normal, you just never thought about it before. Perspective, I'm telling you, is everything.
If you go to a room called 'Ambassador Room C' of a hotel chain, and walk around the Canadian Tire next door to get some air over lunch, does that count as having visited the town?
AJ called me because she didn't go today. She wanted the uncensored de-brief (ha ha!) before we got to work tomorrow. She is a person who will repeat things a lot and is really chatty even though she's allegedly an introvert (a good source of fun-poking) - I would venture to say she 'goes on'! - but she never, ever annoys me. The more she talks, the more she repeats things, the more she realises what she is doing and makes fun of herself, the more charmed I am by her. I told her yesterday that without her at work, I would not know what is real and what is spin. The only job I ever had where I didn't have that touchstone of reality in a person, I nearly lost my mind.
It's dish-doing time.
Monday, 20 April 2009
Monday, 13 April 2009
Ah. Day off.
I handed in a draft of my thesis last Friday, the writing of which required an insane amount of time invested. For three weeks, I was on a roll and stayed away from the blog and most other enjoyable things. Now, I have Easter Monday off - to myself - and the aimlessness of the day has me gripped. I just do not know what to do with myself and I love it.
These past few weeks have not been entirely anti-social. B, C-McK and I went out the weekend before last for one of those surprise nights that sticks with you throughout the week and keeps you interested in life when work tries to ensure you are anything but interested. We started out at a swanky hotel lounge. They were ordering all kinds of martinis and margaritas, but I was off booze for Lent, so it was shirley temples soda water for me. I gave up Catholicism long ago but I've always liked Lent. I 'observe' it in some way most years, but it's been a long time since I stopped drinking. This was a great decision, well-timed with my end-of-March goal to finish a draft of my thesis - no valuable writing time wasted being hung over or tired or out of it.
Two of C-McK's friends joined us. They were wonderful. The lounge had a pianist who played hit after hit, so heavily embellished that it always took a little time before anyone at the table could figure out what song that was. We had dinner and dessert and even coffee and there was a lot of laughing.
By a quarter to twelve we headed to a club to see these guys, but the show was sold out by the time we arrived. Luckily, a dude who happens to work at the club happened to be standing outside smoking and happened to recognise C-McK from 'back in the day' or whatever, and he not only got us all into the sold-out show, but free-of-charge.
B and I had gone earlier in the day to that ridiculous '80s-inspired clothing store that actually sells gold scrunchies. You know the place of which I write. It was crawling with enormous glasses, leggings and moppy hair, the opposite of flattering, but the experience served as useful content for a funny discussion at the lounge. We'd all bet that the club would have a plethora of folk sporting this look and we were not wrong. The first thing to greet us when we walked into the club was a giant, clear-plastic-rimmed pair of 'ironic' glasses. Then I was immediately introduced to a guy with a moustache. He looked about 15.
The band was awesome and I never once felt tired.
I am going to wander over to the Y for a swim now.
These past few weeks have not been entirely anti-social. B, C-McK and I went out the weekend before last for one of those surprise nights that sticks with you throughout the week and keeps you interested in life when work tries to ensure you are anything but interested. We started out at a swanky hotel lounge. They were ordering all kinds of martinis and margaritas, but I was off booze for Lent, so it was shirley temples soda water for me. I gave up Catholicism long ago but I've always liked Lent. I 'observe' it in some way most years, but it's been a long time since I stopped drinking. This was a great decision, well-timed with my end-of-March goal to finish a draft of my thesis - no valuable writing time wasted being hung over or tired or out of it.
Two of C-McK's friends joined us. They were wonderful. The lounge had a pianist who played hit after hit, so heavily embellished that it always took a little time before anyone at the table could figure out what song that was. We had dinner and dessert and even coffee and there was a lot of laughing.
By a quarter to twelve we headed to a club to see these guys, but the show was sold out by the time we arrived. Luckily, a dude who happens to work at the club happened to be standing outside smoking and happened to recognise C-McK from 'back in the day' or whatever, and he not only got us all into the sold-out show, but free-of-charge.
B and I had gone earlier in the day to that ridiculous '80s-inspired clothing store that actually sells gold scrunchies. You know the place of which I write. It was crawling with enormous glasses, leggings and moppy hair, the opposite of flattering, but the experience served as useful content for a funny discussion at the lounge. We'd all bet that the club would have a plethora of folk sporting this look and we were not wrong. The first thing to greet us when we walked into the club was a giant, clear-plastic-rimmed pair of 'ironic' glasses. Then I was immediately introduced to a guy with a moustache. He looked about 15.
The band was awesome and I never once felt tired.
I am going to wander over to the Y for a swim now.
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