April 26, 2007:
Truth is like the sun. You can shut it out for a time, but it's not going to go away.
~ Elvis Presley
I hate waking up in a funk. And even though I'm not specifically sad about one thing, I just don't care about anything. Everyone is full of advice too - just smile! Put on a bright color! You have to pull yourself out of it!
Oh fuck you all.
So I put on some pink underwear. I'm Pollyanna on the inside and Johnny Cash on the outside.
I have a bunch of theories about why I'm pissy. Maybe it's hormones. Maybe it's because I haven't been laid in a week or so. Maybe it's because I'm just not happy. Who knows. I know I yelled at a guy who was busy talking on his cell while driving to class tonight. I know I work in the cell phone industry and all? But seriously guys - get a bluetooth and stop trying to talk, shift and drive while not killing anyone. If you're going 55 mph during rush hour while doing all that? Don't be surprised if you get shot one day. Drive. Then get home and call them back. Seriously.
Before my lovely driving experience, my work experience was similar, only no one was going 55 mph. It was more like driving blindly with your hands on the pedals.
I love my boss. I like to drink with him and I would take a bullet for him. He's a good guy. He just reacts too much. In the past couple days, our OEM found a pretty stupid bug that got through somehow. So my boss came up with this brilliant idea of scripting the UI test plan so that these things can get caught. Well ... that's a great idea but I'm very very skeptical.
First, I've yet to see one of these brilliant ideas be taken to complete fruition. Next would be the simple fact there are 2200 screens possible on our software. 2200!! Now if what I understand is going to happen, these screenshots are going to be dumped into a folder for us to review. Um. 2200 screenshots. Apparently, we're going to "figure" out a way to import them into Excel so it's easier as well. I'm not holding my breath ... I'll continue to do it the old way. I'm telling you ... it's like you're excited to have sex for the first time with a new girl, you share all these great positions with her, get the hard on and then get tired - without getting her off. And she's just bitter.
Yea. That's my job.
So after that har har, I go to class. And I love school. I mean - I love learning. Filling up my brain with new stuff is great. Especially writing stuff. Teach me - I'm your sponge. But people who attend night classes are ... special.
You have a third of the class who are what I like to think like me. People who just want to become a new improved model of an already decent model. We just want to get better. And then you have another third who really aren't sure what they are doing. They're just there to do something. And then you have the utterly clueless ones. The losers.
I am a geek. A nerd. A dork. But I'm not a loser. And if I'm in a class, I'm not going to pull some stupid stunt so that I can monopolize the teacher's time. A woman in tonight's class basically did that. A few weeks ago she could have taught the class. Tonight? She was so lost. So confused.
Alas, poor me.
<hand to the forehead>
That was her tonight. Barf.
During the 15 minute break, she told me her sob story in less than 2 minutes. She is poor - her son died - she took care of her daughter's kids while they were on welfare and a bunch of other things. All I was thinking about was how I could distract her enough to escape to get a Diet Pepsi. The only reason I was being so callous is because I had already heard her story. Four times so far tonight. Man, trying to be understanding when you want to tell someone to grow a fucking spine is so hard.
God I can be such a bitch. But I hate the victim role. Hate hate hate.
We've all been dealt an interesting hand. I mean, I know about shitty things. I do - I promise. But I know that somewhere out there someone is living a much harder life than I and someone is even leading a much worse life than them. And when you think it can't get any worse? It can - you die a horrible death. So it can be bad. Really really bad. So don't dwell. Or the universe just might show you how bad it CAN be.
Suppose I should take my own advice, huh.
The grant writing class is interesting. And even though I would rather write a ton of grants making my life easier, something deep inside said this is the way for me to do something good. Write for churches. Write for nonprofit orgs. Give back in a way I only can - by writing. Learn the craft and donate my time to writing grants for others. So that's my plan. The pen is mightier than the sword.
How funny it seems to be all cranky and write about doing good for the world. I kinda feel better though. Maybe it was the pink background ....
P.S. Hi Jules... hope Mexico is treating you well!