dianaschnuth

A few months ago, the World showed me how small it is after all, and inserted a former RCC coworker into my current employment at Sky Bank. Not someone I had ever hung out with, but someone I had always thought it would be fun to know. Did I say anything about this? Ever? Of course not. This is me we’re talking about here.

One day we were discussing our currently-unused degrees — mine in Visual Communications, hers in Computer Art — and she mentioned that she had a web page. I mentioned mine, too, and gave the URL (since it’s easy enough to remember… at least until I get married). She quietly avoided mentioning hers.

So I went on Google and I found it. Stalking? Hardly. Simple curiosity.

Honestly… I had expected more of the site. The work is cool, the text-based adventure intriguing, but I’m more of an interface person myself. At any rate, I opted not to mention anything at work about me seeking out her website, as that could be construed a number of ways. Not the least of which would be moderately creepy.

Yesterday and today at work, the people who provide and service our Citation document processing systems came up from Florida to install a new system. In the process of bullshitting with Rick and Randy from TMR, Rick gave my coworker and I his personal URL, and invited us to check it out. My coworker then mentioned that she had a website and had recently started a LiveJournal. She said she had her own server space, but liked being able to update from anywhere and not have to worry about coding. (I like not having to code, too, but that’s why I use Dreamweaver.) Of course, she didn’t mention her username or anything.

So I went on LiveJournal and I found it. Stalking? Hardly. Simple curiosity.

After reading my coworker’s personal comments, written specifically for her friends and fellow MUSHers, I discovered something about blogs. They can be quite audience-specific, and quite personal. Of course, I knew this from reading strangers’ blogs (see right), but it’s different when the subject in question isn’t a complete stranger. I can see why she didn’t want mere coworkers reading her comments. Not that her journal is lewd or vulgar or anything like that; it’s just personal. I almost feel like I’ve violated her privacy on some level by seeking this out. But, on the other hand, one has to be prepared for anyone to read anything posted online in a publicly-accessible website. I feel I also have a new perspective about her.

I wonder… were she to read my website, would she have a new perspective on me?

Ok, dudes. If I have to work one more 50-hour-plus week, I think I’m going to flip. I worked 14 hours today. Hell, I even took this past Friday off as a paid vacation day, and still racked up 40 hours before I left Thursday evening. Too bad a vacation day can’t count for time-and-a-half.

My co-worker Mary, a woman about a year or two older than my Mom, agrees that this is bullshit. (Not in so many words, of course.) We’re planning to talk to our "real" boss this week. Yes, our "real" boss, as opposed to our co-worker / boss who mainly just has seniority over us and knows more about how the Lockbox department runs.

I haven’t had a 40-hour week for literally three months, at least. As much as I’m liking the overtime, this is just getting ridiculous. I might not have social functions to attend after work like some people, but that doesn’t mean I enjoy my off-work time any less. There’s a new schedule in the works that could either save us all, or save everybody else and fuck me bad. I know what I’m guessing…

I didn’t really want to leave Sky yet, but if my hours don’t get more reasonable by next year (read: give it another month), I’m going to start actively job-hunting again. This is bullshit.

Hey, for once I worked an 8-hour day! Yeah, we were doing so well that we actually took a one-hour lunch and everything. Just for reference, yesterday I worked a 14-hour day. Seriously. My co-worker and almost-supervisor, Loni, worked an hour and a half more than me, since she came in at 6am. Damn, that sucked. Makes the normal 8-hour day seem like a luxury instead of a burden.

OK, all you people who are still in college. All you people who hate your 8:30am classes. All you people who think your life is more tedious and horrible than anyone else’s. Who hate your 15-hour-a-week job. Who can’t wait to graduate and get the hell out of school. Yeah, you. I’ve got an update for you. You have it MADE. You have about, what, three to five hours of the day max that you have to spend in class? Then go to your job for about three hours, if you’re part time? I remember that. I didn’t realize how cool it was, either.

Late this August, as I was hopping the cab to work, I saw all the collegians trudging to campus for their first day back to school. The only thing I wanted to do just then was to jump out of the cab and be in college again. Go to class, then come home an hour later and nap. Play on my computer. Go to class again. Go take some photos. IM with friends. Walk up to Timmay’s room and see his latest tech-toy. –Seems a little counterproductive, my fantasy, since I earned my Bachelor’s Degree in December 2001.

Nothing like dreaming of the past while rushing for the future.