Azure Jane Lunatic (Azz) 🌺 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
azurelunatic) wrote2014-04-15 02:33 am
azurelunatic) wrote2014-04-15 02:33 am
Various items!
Another 2nd Thursday survived, despite the death of my work computer's hard drive. I came into work earlier than I otherwise might have on account of some research scheduling issues (I didn't know whether Researcher Sweatervest had all the information he needed, there was an early-ish study, and I was having troubles logging in from home, troubles which may have included an out of date password for the share drive) and while all that turned out to be unnecessary, it also let me get a good solid start on the last half of the notes. I powered through those notes and finished them! Whee!
THERE WERE DUCKLINGS BY THE DUCK POND. Everybody was pretty delighted by that. Apparently the ducks started out at the top of the hill but paraded down later. All the fun photos aren't shareable, alas. (As much as ducks in general horrify me, the babies are adorable.) (And just in time! Ducksies and taxies! <- this is a joke that only Tay and I will properly appreciate, because you had to be there, and "there" was our bathroom in the mid-90s with a billion little busy baby ducks.)
I refilled the "hummingbird feeder" with jellybeans. There are no actual hummingbirds here. This is the candy dish that I maintain for my co-workers. Every now and then one of them flits by to feed, barely a blink of an eye in my monitor rearview mirrors and a rustle at the dish.
Today the Stage Manager dropped by and rang my doorbell for the specific purpose of telling me that I was evil. This may have been related to the old-fashioned cake doughnuts except with chocolate frosting that found their way onto the collaboration table. I'd only wanted the one, you see...
The elevator in my building has been having a few problems. First there were some smears of blue ink. Then there was a rude phrase written in blue ink. Then there was a rude phrase written in blue ink, and the phrase had been sliced through with a very sharp blade. Due to the difficulty of writing cleanly over a gap, it was apparent that the phrase had been written first, and sliced second. The slice was not in a place which looked to be accidental. It's both a disturbing and obnoxious form of vandalism. It vaguely recalls to me the lighter brands on the backs of the green schoolbus seats from elementary school.
I find it hard to overstate how much of a sheer mental relaxation it is to have a friend with a substantially similar background. Purple and I were both weird kids in public school who grew up outside a small town with rural conditions. Our fathers also have certain similarities. When we tell each other stories about our childhoods, our families, it's to someone who knows how those things were, not someone who's shocked by the weird shit that we considered perfectly normal. Someday I will write down the "I can do anything a boy can!!!" story, but today is not that day.
I shared my schedule woes with Purple. He indicated that he was impressed that there had been no bloodshed (for he is familiar with what happens when I don't get enough sleep). Sadly (though I did not relate this part) the only bloodshed happening currently is in my pants.
My workplace has relaxation/quiet rooms. My building's quiet room has an assortment of possible junk including a rolling rack with a great big TV on it which would have fit right in my 1995 high school classrooms, a standard plastic shelf unit with various prayer rugs on it, a giant beanbag, and a couch. Every now and then when my brain has gone too wobbly and my sleep schedule has bitten me in the ass, I tiptoe in to get a nap.
Some of the other buildings' relaxation rooms are somewhat different in nature, doubling as game rooms, rather more brightly lit, with the doors gone or permanently open.
Lately those other relaxation rooms have suffered some ... changes.
Picture, if you will, the lush rolling green hills and blue, cloud-speckled skies of the default Windows XP wallpaper background.
Picture some breezy white Adirondack chairs, suitable for a beach.
Picture a room which used to have couches and a foosball table stripped, the floor slathered with astroturf, the walls painted blue and cloudy, and a couple really amazingly uncomfortable chairs dumped into it.
Apparently this change comes down from on high. The actual people actually using these rooms haven't been any too thrilled.
Today Mr. Zune had some work-related reading to do, from a great honking thick book with a Dilbert strip on the cover. He wanted to know where on earth (or maybe just on campus) there was a suitable place to sit and read quietly. I offered to show him the relaxation room in my building. When we hit the elevator, I noticed that one of the wall-pads had a vertical slit in it (near a smear of blue ink, but no rude words this time). I was not best pleased. When we got out of the elevator, we found that the electronic badge scanner that operated the lock of this relaxation room was entirely missing. Mr. Zune headed off to one of the insufficiently relaxing relaxation rooms, and I headed back upstairs, to file two tickets: one about the damaged elevator wall pad, and one asking after the fate of the relaxation room.
Apparently I'm gaining a reputation for sharp, well-written tickets. One of the #cupcake guys said that he wished that most [zilla] tickets were written half so well as a typical ajl ticket, which delighted me no end. This particular ticket went a little like this:
When it came time to head out, I was nearly out of the elevator when I spotted a second slash. This one was a very long horizontal cut on one of the other walls. I was not about to go back to my desk to file a ticket, so I called security to report it. Again, very clean, so done with a very sharp implement. Most things don't have corners sticking off that are that sharp. You'd have some more ripping or tearing.
Purple and I chatted in the parking lot for a bit. He's learning that one of the ways I express my appreciation for a really horrible joke is a swipe not intended to connect, or intended to connect not hard. (This is agreeable with him.) My staring off into the distance this time included an airplane. The black helicopter joke that I tried to make turned into an explanation of Welcome to Night Vale. I cry easier than he does. Both of us cry when we have various painful body horror. Life is good.
THERE WERE DUCKLINGS BY THE DUCK POND. Everybody was pretty delighted by that. Apparently the ducks started out at the top of the hill but paraded down later. All the fun photos aren't shareable, alas. (As much as ducks in general horrify me, the babies are adorable.) (And just in time! Ducksies and taxies! <- this is a joke that only Tay and I will properly appreciate, because you had to be there, and "there" was our bathroom in the mid-90s with a billion little busy baby ducks.)
I refilled the "hummingbird feeder" with jellybeans. There are no actual hummingbirds here. This is the candy dish that I maintain for my co-workers. Every now and then one of them flits by to feed, barely a blink of an eye in my monitor rearview mirrors and a rustle at the dish.
Today the Stage Manager dropped by and rang my doorbell for the specific purpose of telling me that I was evil. This may have been related to the old-fashioned cake doughnuts except with chocolate frosting that found their way onto the collaboration table. I'd only wanted the one, you see...
The elevator in my building has been having a few problems. First there were some smears of blue ink. Then there was a rude phrase written in blue ink. Then there was a rude phrase written in blue ink, and the phrase had been sliced through with a very sharp blade. Due to the difficulty of writing cleanly over a gap, it was apparent that the phrase had been written first, and sliced second. The slice was not in a place which looked to be accidental. It's both a disturbing and obnoxious form of vandalism. It vaguely recalls to me the lighter brands on the backs of the green schoolbus seats from elementary school.
I find it hard to overstate how much of a sheer mental relaxation it is to have a friend with a substantially similar background. Purple and I were both weird kids in public school who grew up outside a small town with rural conditions. Our fathers also have certain similarities. When we tell each other stories about our childhoods, our families, it's to someone who knows how those things were, not someone who's shocked by the weird shit that we considered perfectly normal. Someday I will write down the "I can do anything a boy can!!!" story, but today is not that day.
I shared my schedule woes with Purple. He indicated that he was impressed that there had been no bloodshed (for he is familiar with what happens when I don't get enough sleep). Sadly (though I did not relate this part) the only bloodshed happening currently is in my pants.
My workplace has relaxation/quiet rooms. My building's quiet room has an assortment of possible junk including a rolling rack with a great big TV on it which would have fit right in my 1995 high school classrooms, a standard plastic shelf unit with various prayer rugs on it, a giant beanbag, and a couch. Every now and then when my brain has gone too wobbly and my sleep schedule has bitten me in the ass, I tiptoe in to get a nap.
Some of the other buildings' relaxation rooms are somewhat different in nature, doubling as game rooms, rather more brightly lit, with the doors gone or permanently open.
Lately those other relaxation rooms have suffered some ... changes.
Picture, if you will, the lush rolling green hills and blue, cloud-speckled skies of the default Windows XP wallpaper background.
Picture some breezy white Adirondack chairs, suitable for a beach.
Picture a room which used to have couches and a foosball table stripped, the floor slathered with astroturf, the walls painted blue and cloudy, and a couple really amazingly uncomfortable chairs dumped into it.
Apparently this change comes down from on high. The actual people actually using these rooms haven't been any too thrilled.
Today Mr. Zune had some work-related reading to do, from a great honking thick book with a Dilbert strip on the cover. He wanted to know where on earth (or maybe just on campus) there was a suitable place to sit and read quietly. I offered to show him the relaxation room in my building. When we hit the elevator, I noticed that one of the wall-pads had a vertical slit in it (near a smear of blue ink, but no rude words this time). I was not best pleased. When we got out of the elevator, we found that the electronic badge scanner that operated the lock of this relaxation room was entirely missing. Mr. Zune headed off to one of the insufficiently relaxing relaxation rooms, and I headed back upstairs, to file two tickets: one about the damaged elevator wall pad, and one asking after the fate of the relaxation room.
Apparently I'm gaining a reputation for sharp, well-written tickets. One of the #cupcake guys said that he wished that most [zilla] tickets were written half so well as a typical ajl ticket, which delighted me no end. This particular ticket went a little like this:
What's happening to the [building] relaxation room?
A colleague was looking for a quiet place which hadn't been filled with clouds and astroturf. Last I saw, [location] was still okay. Found that there was no card reader on the door anymore.
Please tell me this room isn't getting the "makeover" too; that would be unfortunate.
More to the point, where does a person go currently to read, pray, or nap?
When it came time to head out, I was nearly out of the elevator when I spotted a second slash. This one was a very long horizontal cut on one of the other walls. I was not about to go back to my desk to file a ticket, so I called security to report it. Again, very clean, so done with a very sharp implement. Most things don't have corners sticking off that are that sharp. You'd have some more ripping or tearing.
Purple and I chatted in the parking lot for a bit. He's learning that one of the ways I express my appreciation for a really horrible joke is a swipe not intended to connect, or intended to connect not hard. (This is agreeable with him.) My staring off into the distance this time included an airplane. The black helicopter joke that I tried to make turned into an explanation of Welcome to Night Vale. I cry easier than he does. Both of us cry when we have various painful body horror. Life is good.