At one job, I play with mice, figure out how to melt candles in the shape of letters, and plot to catch a dairy theif.
At the other job, I make pazookies, research custom toothbrushes, and yell at the top of my lungs about columnist photos without getting a reaction.
Some days I'm amazed I get paid for this life.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Friday, July 25, 2008
10-6. Every day.
Lisa's picture of her workspace made me want to post one too, but my camera's on the fritz. So I'll describe it, in all it's painful, mundane detail, as an appropriate homage to the last 25 minutes of my workday, during which I have nothing else to do.
The computer. It's big. White. Mac. The screen is as big as my dad's home computer, a fact that immediately left him outraged and in a huff. Stickie notes covering the frame, some with to do lists (Incubator, IACUC, Elion, BMS, Fellowships) some with quotes from coworkers ("That mouse has to die." - Andrew) some with my favorite excerpts from songs and e-mails alike that have bettered my life ("beautiful lovely effortlessly adept poignant breathlessly brilliant jo"). A little, penny-sized reflective apple in the middle of the bottom panel, that I look into every morning with each eye seperately. When I wink the left eye, nothing happens, but when I wink the right eye, my viewpoint shifts. I don't get it. Two photos, one on each side of the computer. On the left, Ross and Nicki. On the right, Ben in one of his planes. Everyone's wearing sunglasses, but I know all their eyes are smiling.
Other stuff on the left of the computer: A big wall calendar with appointments for the whole lab. It hurts worse than a kick in the teeth when someone writes on there with bad handwriting (i.e. any handwriting that's not MY handwriting). But they do. They all do. Also a black, three-tiered intray. Orders sent, orders confirmed, orders received. The delightfully plodding steps required to get everyone everything they need at the right time is one my favorite joys. No one else likes it. I specialize in liking the unlikable. Keys, purse, RollerBall Pens, descriptions of rabbit antibodies and a plethora of postits also adorn the left of the desk.
Other stuff on the right of the computer: Phone. Portal to the outside world, but worse, and more importantly, to the inside world of bureaucrats and time-wasters. The buttons stick. It's hard to hold it against your ear without hands. It feels cheap. So it goes. Also an awesome art cube that my parents bought for me, with a crazy array of Van Goh paintings. You move it around and fold it to show different works. Love it. Water bottle, printer, stapler lie in wait.
On the wall is my Medecins Sans Frontieres worldmap. I'm trying to learn the location of a new country each day. My geography is in need of work. In my random drawer is a rapidly expanding stockpile of candy, sent to me directly from a member of our finance department. A highlight of my week, that mini-Christmas in a manilla envelope.
I successfully whittled away the remainder of my workday! That was Joanna Copley, and this is all the news that fits.
The computer. It's big. White. Mac. The screen is as big as my dad's home computer, a fact that immediately left him outraged and in a huff. Stickie notes covering the frame, some with to do lists (Incubator, IACUC, Elion, BMS, Fellowships) some with quotes from coworkers ("That mouse has to die." - Andrew) some with my favorite excerpts from songs and e-mails alike that have bettered my life ("beautiful lovely effortlessly adept poignant breathlessly brilliant jo"). A little, penny-sized reflective apple in the middle of the bottom panel, that I look into every morning with each eye seperately. When I wink the left eye, nothing happens, but when I wink the right eye, my viewpoint shifts. I don't get it. Two photos, one on each side of the computer. On the left, Ross and Nicki. On the right, Ben in one of his planes. Everyone's wearing sunglasses, but I know all their eyes are smiling.
Other stuff on the left of the computer: A big wall calendar with appointments for the whole lab. It hurts worse than a kick in the teeth when someone writes on there with bad handwriting (i.e. any handwriting that's not MY handwriting). But they do. They all do. Also a black, three-tiered intray. Orders sent, orders confirmed, orders received. The delightfully plodding steps required to get everyone everything they need at the right time is one my favorite joys. No one else likes it. I specialize in liking the unlikable. Keys, purse, RollerBall Pens, descriptions of rabbit antibodies and a plethora of postits also adorn the left of the desk.
Other stuff on the right of the computer: Phone. Portal to the outside world, but worse, and more importantly, to the inside world of bureaucrats and time-wasters. The buttons stick. It's hard to hold it against your ear without hands. It feels cheap. So it goes. Also an awesome art cube that my parents bought for me, with a crazy array of Van Goh paintings. You move it around and fold it to show different works. Love it. Water bottle, printer, stapler lie in wait.
On the wall is my Medecins Sans Frontieres worldmap. I'm trying to learn the location of a new country each day. My geography is in need of work. In my random drawer is a rapidly expanding stockpile of candy, sent to me directly from a member of our finance department. A highlight of my week, that mini-Christmas in a manilla envelope.
I successfully whittled away the remainder of my workday! That was Joanna Copley, and this is all the news that fits.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
180
As I sit here getting pretty annoyed at it all, at the vague, dense mire that I have to wade through so frequently just to squeeze a tiny ray of objective and meaning out of the paper mountain surrounding me, I was going to make a list of all the things that irk me. Instead, I'll save that for another day, and go with what makes me genuinely and childishly happy instead:
Cafe Claude
Finishing a run
Getting to deliver something on the shuttle, which gives me a good guilt-free hour and a half to read my book
Finding candy in my campus mail
My flatmate
Juliette and Benny tipsy
E-mails from Ross
The Economist
Baking
The Daily Cal newsroom at ALL hours
The Vicar of Dibley
Rain
Going home
Supporting myself
Bringing a mug of tea to lab meetings
Chubbers
The way Cristian says leukoplakia
House of Curries
Flowers on the ledge, bubblegum cigarrettes and handmade birthday notes
Watching tennis finals
My little black journal
Passing judgement with Tatyana
Paul!
All in all, amidst the mire, a good life.
Cafe Claude
Finishing a run
Getting to deliver something on the shuttle, which gives me a good guilt-free hour and a half to read my book
Finding candy in my campus mail
My flatmate
Juliette and Benny tipsy
E-mails from Ross
The Economist
Baking
The Daily Cal newsroom at ALL hours
The Vicar of Dibley
Rain
Going home
Supporting myself
Bringing a mug of tea to lab meetings
Chubbers
The way Cristian says leukoplakia
House of Curries
Flowers on the ledge, bubblegum cigarrettes and handmade birthday notes
Watching tennis finals
My little black journal
Passing judgement with Tatyana
Paul!
All in all, amidst the mire, a good life.
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