So, the UGF's surgery went very well. It took about 2x as long as estimated, but she's healing up nicely, and has no nerve pain, so it was successful! Thanks to everyone who sent messages of support! Neither of us have ever had any surgery more complex than tooth extraction, so we were pretty nervous. Actually, I was completely freaked. Fandom pretty much saved my sanity. During endless eons in waiting rooms and doctors offices, in cabs or on the bus, or sucking down warm and comforting noodles at Cafe Saigon, I consumed vast (and I mean VAST) quantities of fanfic, specifically The Sentinel fic. The 852 Prospect archive is VERY BBerry friendly, and TS fic is VERY comforting. Lots and lots of warm-fuzzy domestica... Except now I've been sucked back into an ancient and moribund fandom, with lots of dead links and very little media. Season 1 DVD's are arriving at my home (courtesy of Netflix) even as I type this, but I was appalled to discover that the other 3 seasons have still not been released! For shame!!! How am I to be obsessive and crazy without DVDs? Need. More. Hairboy. Woe.
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I like telling people what to do. I'm good at it. I make a living at it. I say jump, and others say "how high?" If that were necessary, which it's not, because I've already negotiated a contract that specifies height, depth, and width. Literally.
But some things I can't control. Like the UGF going into emergency surgery on Friday. There's nothing I can do about that. I cannot tell A to be at B at such a time to do C, and don't fuck up, damnit, because that's my life you're cutting into, my heart, my raison d'etre.
All I can do is wait, and worry, and love, and shake the cat's litterbox twice a day.
It doesn't seem like enough.
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I'm having some sort of post-Nanowrimo, holiday, seasonal affective disorder. Also know as ennui. Apathy. Lack of motivation, drive, ambition, or anything resembling such. Mostly I'm listening to more pop than is probably safe (will too much Auto-Tune really make one's head explode), rereading classic Sentinel fics (thank you, Wayback Machine!), and eating buckets of rice noodle soup (there is no bad, here). I'm avoiding the many, very costly, things that I should be dealing with. I just can't cope.
I didn't make word count for Nano, but I didn't really expect to, so that's okay. My writing workshop has been good, edifiying and challenging and all that jazz-- I'm looking forward to this weekend's meeting. It's weird, though, because I've never taken any sort of writing class or workshop, before, so I feel like a total tyro. It's not a feeling that I'm used to, not anymore. At my age, I've been around most blocks at least once, but this... it's odd. And I'm not hip. Oh, no no no, not at all. I feel old, straight, and slightly embarrassed, in fact. Also, massively amused. After last weekend, I will never again be able to think about Bruce Springsteen without blushing. Not that I have spent much of my life contemplating the man, but now, should I do so, I will be unable to avoid also thinking about hankie codes, anal fisting, and Born in the USA. Sentinel fic actually suits this, somehow, like a side of green beans with roast chicken and potatoes.
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It's worth listening to the whole thing, especially for the verse she doesn't sing...
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11/02/09 Day Two Wrote another 350 words.
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11/01/09 Day One I have written maybe 100 words of my novel. Mistake #1 – napping Mistake #2 – obsessive dish-washing #3 – dithering #4 – video games #5 – putting in an interesting movie for back-ground noise. Because that always works out so well. [W., by the way. Excellent, if horrifying.] #6 – eating. #7 – endless cups of herbal tea, which leads to endless trips to the loo. Which leads to #8 – endless smoke breaks, because as long as I’m upstairs to piss and make more tea, I might as well go out and have a smoke, right? #9 – keeping a fucking record of my inadequacies. Way to self-motivate! #10 – feeling like a fool. Why am I even considering this? Do I really think I have anything interesting, or even mildly entertaining, to present to the world? Because this is public, at least in my head, and I don’t know if my fragile ego can survive learning that the contents of my brain are banal beyond endurance. Ta-da! Writing is terrific for ego-death. When did I become this whining, annoying bitch? I hate people like that!
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Courtesy of DemConWatch
DemConWatch also pointed me to this article in which CT Republicans not only confuse freedom of speech with fraud, but also don't seem to understand what freedom of speech means, i.e. the Twitter TOS is not a Congressional ban. These days it seems like the Republican party's members are required to be male, white, unethical, and either stupid or doing a good job of faking it. Sigh.
I used to be one of those people who thought political parties were basically meaningless, on an individual level. Party, I believed, was about the roadmap to progress... the Democratic platform advocated one path, Republican another, Socialism yet another. Isn't the goal supposed be justice, dignity, and the general welfare? But the past two years have disabused me of that notion. Conservative/Republican pundits, politicians, and people like my father, have convinced me that the R's only goal is to hang on to whatever white, male, Christian entitlement and privilege they possibly can, by whatever means necessary, even to the detriment of their own families and constituents. Maybe especially to the detriment of these groups. Frankly, it makes me very sad.
I'm especially saddened by the impact on my own family: my father and I no longer speak. Years ago, I made it clear that he couldn't use racist and cultural slurs in my presence. That was fine, he respected that, and I love him despite his prejudice. We remained close. But the tone of public discourse has so degraded over the past year that he now feels I'm being unreasonable, (love this!) infringing upon his freedom of speech, and "oppressing" him by not allowing him to use such terms in conversations with me, or confronting his double standards (e.g. black men must be foreign with fake birth certiticates; white men must be US-born citizens, and do not need a birth certificate under any circumstances). So, not only do we not talk politics, we don't talk at all.
So, you know? Screw it. I don't care. I'm doing NaNoWriMo next month, taking a writing class, taking my dog to Advanced Obedience training. I have a full time job, volunteer commitments, a family, a life. Maybe the US will get sane and humane health care; maybe not. Maybe civil rights will be extended to all citizens; maybe not. But I'm tired. I'm not outraged, or angry, or whatever I'm supposed to be to keep the fires burning and the hope alive; I'm just tired.
Tomorrow, I will go out with my BFF and we will eat oysters, and oyster-related delights, until we pop. Then I will nap. Then I will read and hang out with my wonderful UGF and our adorable "kids." My life, despite it's stresses and worries, is awesome. As my mom used to tell me, the haters are just jealous.
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| 2009-09-30 12:21 |
| Sad |
| Public |
 sad |
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Today, for the very first time ever, I have unfriended people for reasons other than "eh, FList is too big/who are you?/nothing in common anymore/excessive Tweeting". Now I can blame Roman Polanski for that too. But, I'm afraid the ongoing privilege, classism, and sexism inherent in this particular debate about whether it's appropriate to extradite a convicted criminal back to the country in which he committed his crimes has made me all foamy. Roman Polanski is not being extradited because he is famous. He is being extradited despite being famous. YAY! A pedophile who isolated, subdued with drugs, then orally, vaginally, and anally raped a 13-year-old, pled guilty, and was convicted under fair and reasonable laws, may finally serve the sentence to which he agreed under the terms of his plea bargain. I am truly shocked that a rich, white, man may finally go to prison for his horrible crimes. I'm not shocked by the apologists, but I am deeply angered by them, and occasionally surprised and grieved by who they are. I'm especially saddened by those I've found on LJ. But I'm through trying to point out how deeply hypocritical it is to say "of course, oh, of course, horrible crimes should be punished, but if the perp is rich and powerful enough to evade arrest for long enough and dresses well enough and hasn't actually been videotaped sodomizing babies since his last conviction, well, we should just let it all blow over, because it's such a bother, and kind of expensive, and really what about the victim, what does she want?" Yeah, let's not forget about the victim. She's already been raped three times over-- once (multiply) by Polanski; again by the courts; and finally by the media. I'm sure she really wants to have never been raped by Roman Polanski. If that hadn't happened, the rest wouldn't have followed. And I'm sorry that Roman Polanski is a convicted pedophile and rapist who took advantage of his position to gain access to her in the first place. Unfortunately, that's what pedophiles do, and they rationalize their actions in many, many ways (“If I had killed somebody, it wouldn’t have had so much appeal to the press, you see? But… f—ing, you see, and the young girls. Judges want to f— young girls. Juries want to f— young girls. Everyone wants to f— young girls!” --Interview with Martin Amis, 1979). They also use whatever means necessary to continue victimizing children. In Polanski's case, he fled to a country with no extradition treaty with the US, where the age of consent was 15, and proceeded to (rather publicly) have a sexual relationship with a 15-year-old girl over whom he had professional, as well as personal, influence. But my sympathy for Polanski's victims has zero to do with the fact that he is a fugitive from justice. The man needs to serve his sentence. The fact that he also ran just proves that in a addition to being a rapist and a pedophile, he's a coward. All in all, an empty shell that pretends to be a human being, but has neither conscience, nor soul. He cannot presume to be an artist, not can any of his sympathizers: their pretensions to art are a sham and a lie. Now, I have seen what lies behind the cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, the solemn temples, the great globe itself, and there is nothing.
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| 2009-09-28 16:19 |
| The Pain... |
| Public |
 distressed |
| Brian Seltzer Orchestra |
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...in my ass is literal this time.
I woke up on Sunday morning with a pain in my left buttock. There is no reason for it. I didn't fall, there isn't a giant bruise, or a cyst the size of, well, my left buttock. No, it just feels like it.
I'm beginning to suspect that it might be psychosomatic. Stress-related. Related to the stress of needing to come up with about $20K and no idea how to go about that. I've been looking for part-time jobs (some of them quite dodgy) and freelance work (less dodgy, but also less well paid), and it's just too much. I want to beat my head against something really hard until my skull shatters like a jack o'lantern on pavement. I'm sure there's nothing in there, at this point, just hot air and white noise. The high panicked whine of hamsters burning themselves out on an endless wheel.
So what did I too, since I'm short of money? I bought tickets to the Oyster Frenzy in October. Brilliant. As if by spending what little I have, I will magically summon more to my doorstep. Why do I do this? Well, partly because oysters are delicious, but mostly because rationalization is what I do, oh, yes. After all, I'll figure something out, right? Except, I've already discovered that my eggs are too old, so no one wants them, not even for free; plasma doesn't bring in enough money, fast enough, unless I discover some sort of black market bank that will drain me dry in exchange for free plumbing work and a reasonable honorarium for my survivors; I'm far too prudish to take up prostitution, and too paranoid to deal drugs. Maybe I can sell a kidney.
Anybody need a kidney? Only slightly used-- it's a bargain at twice the price!
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I can't eat it, but I looooooove playing with it.
Last night I made bacon/cheddar/scallion/chard scones for the UGF &c. I'll probably take them with me to tomorrow's meeting. I still want to make tea bread from the canoe-sized summer squash - I can probably get 4-5 loaves out of them, easy. I used the last of the flour, yesterday, so I was going to restrain myself and wait until next weekend to make tea bread, except that Lily went midnight grazing last night, and ate about 5 cups of finely shredded coconut. The coconut was going to be another 2 or 3 batches of macaroons. Since I was suddenly out of flour, coconut, AND baking soda (entirely different story, and very boring to boot), I was compelled to walk down to Pike Place Grocery for more of each. Oh, the woe.
Actually, it was quite the trek. The hill is almost vertical, and walking back up with 10 lbs of flour, 5 lbs of shredded coconut, 10 lbs of assorted seafood (how can I resist?), and the baking soda very nearly killed me. I must quit smoking.
I seem to have vast amounts of spare time, suddenly. Mostly, it's because we no longer have TV, but I've also been making some other life changes, which have resulted in free time. And really, the amount isn't actually vast, but going from "not enough time" to "more than time enough" is so amazing that I feel like I could, oh, quilt or something. Not that I will, or at least not soon, but I could. That, my friends, is remarkable.
I'm supposed to be writing some jacket copy, but I got distracted from the novel in question by the poetry thing, so I'll be finishing the reading portion this week. Hopefully, I'll find something to say about it by Monday. Why does it take so much longer to write 200 words than it does to read 50,000?
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I did not die. I wanted to die. My mind tried to die, but my body won. Thus, I live.
I'm told the reading went well. I don't actually remember my reading or anything for about 10 minutes after. I eventually stopped shaking, and later the UGF took me out for medicinal sushi, which was actually quite necessary, because I hadn't been able to eat much of anything for two or three days prior. By 9 PM on Saturday, I wasn't just hungry, I was starving.
One of the other poets who read on Saturday, whom I particularly admire, had some very nice feedback for me after the whole shebang was over. She also suggested that I hook up with a local writing collective, which I believe she belongs to, as do a couple other of the evening's performers. I'm not quite sure how to take her suggestion, although I want it to be a good thing; nonetheless, I tend to look for the barb, even when that's not what is intended. Really, I've spent too, too long at the Salt Mines, among people who never say anything nice unless it's actually an insult or criticism.
I slept in a bit on Sunday and spent the rest of the day cooking and baking. I made macaroons for me, dipped in dark chocolate; for the UGF, I made chocolate chip drop cookies and shortbread; for our dinner, I roasted squash, made polenta gnocchi and marinara (from our own tomatoes!). Then I prepared today's lunch. And then, I made a pound cake for Lily. Yes, for the dog. No, it's not really a cake, just a cake shaped treat-bomb, that we will dole out over days in exchange for good behavior.
Tonight, I think I'm going to make savory scones and tea bread for the UGF, the folks at Wednesday's meeting, and the custodian here at the day job. What does it say about my workplace that my favorite people are the custodian and the security guard? What does that say about me?
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I'm a nervous wreck and Mafia Wars isn't loading, so I've been surfing the interwebs, looking for something to assuage my complete and utter terror, and all I can find is the usual round robin of death panels, Hitler, and socialism. Don't these people ever get bored? Does not a one of them ever look in the mirror in the morning and think "Dear Godwin, if I hear 'it's Socialism!' one more time, I'm going to shoot myself in the head." I realize that there is a script (although I forget the name of the guy who usually writes it), but has it occurred to anyone else that the script is dumb? And also very boring?
I mean, yeah, it was fun to go on Newsvine and define Socialism to the ditto-heads... for a couple of days. Any longer and the pleasure palls: the right wing rants are stale and repetitive, and what might have been a conversation turns into a conservative circle jerk. "Sheep! Ooooh! Kool-Aid! AAAAAH!! Hitler! Yes!!! Death panels, oh, yeah, yeah... Socialism! I'm-- I'm-- I'm cooooming..."
Really, now. Is that the best they can do? The Republican party dominated political speech for decades, and yes, while they did it with misdirection, mistruth, and misogyny, appealing to the most reactionary elements in American society, the party leadership was aware that framing the dialogue was a tool, a tactic, not the goal. But the past year has produced some of the most idiotic rhetoric I've ever witnessed from people that apparently have no trouble invoking Godwin's Law with a straight face. Michelle Bachmann alone is a walking, talking drinking game. And whose brilliant idea was it to make Sarah Palin John McCain's running mate? When party strategists sat around thinking up ways to make the Republican party appear more diverse, why did they skip over smart, experienced women to pick a clueless redneck being investigated for multiple ethics violations?
And Joe Wilson? Frankly, he's just embarrassing. What's he going to do next, shoot spitballs? Put a frog down Nancy Pelosi's blouse?
And spare me the "Democrats did it, too!" Uh, no. In June 2004, my Representative, Jim McDermott, said, "Mr. Speaker, this administration is out of control. They have made obeying the law a thing of the past. They have implemented 'the big lie' theory of communications. This theory takes propaganda to a whole new level." He did not shout "YOU LIE*" at then-President Bush during a televised address. And I cannot source a single instance of an elected Democratic member of Congress calling Bush Hitler. A liar and an incompetent, yes; Hitler, no.
Rhetoric from the ground level, including my own, was more inflammatory, but I'm not a member of Congress, an elected official, or any sort of political leader. I expect my political representatives to be smarter than me, or at least better at public speaking. Don't Republican Americans have better choices than Wilson, Palin, and Bachmann? Is this the best the party can come up with? Even the National Republican Congressional Committee canceled its support of Bachmann's reelection campaign, but no one better stepped forward, so one has to assume the answer is yes, this is the best that Republicans get. Which is very, very sad.
* Feel free to visit Thomas, OpenCongress, or your political website of choice, and read the actual text of HR 3200, which demonstrates that Wilson either a.) has not, or b.) is the one lying. Or c.) all of the above.
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VIAfangirlsays, here.
The mormon front group NOM, an anti-gay hate group, has put out their first ad of the season, claiming that marriage equality in Maine will lead to lawsuits and graphic gay sex education in schools. A dude from Boston College law school is in the ad, implying that B.C. endorses the denial of equal protection and due process to some people.
No On One has to raise $22,000 more by Thursday to afford to put their own ads on the air. If you can spare it, please donate at No On One's ActBlue page. If you want to comment (anonymously is okay) after you donate, I'll put up a running tally in edits to this post. Casa del Lesbos donated $100-- normally I would wait until Friday (payday!) for my monthly donation-to-a-worthy, but payday only two days away, and ActBlue has a deadline.
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RIP Mr. Swayze. I'm still not sure whether it was you I crushed on, or Jennifer Grey. Probably both...
Rehearsal on Saturday went well. I'm still terrified, but I'm almost certain that I will survive. Now my biggest problem is WHAT DO I WEAR?!?!?!?!?! AAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!
Gacked from ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) rm:
1. The illnesses I live with are:
Non-Celiac Gluten Intolerance, Lactose Intolerance, Arthritis (caused by NCGI damage)
2. I was diagnosed with it in the year:
2008
3. But I had symptoms since:
Ever
4. The biggest adjustment I've had to make is:
Learning to shop, cook, and eat in a way that is healthy for me.
5. Most people assume:
That I'm on a diet, of some sort, although I'm pretty quick to talk about my illness, so few people need to assume for long.
6. The hardest part about mornings is:
It can be incredibly difficult to get up if I've been exposed to gluten. Not just the tiredness, but muscle weakness, joint pain, migraine, sinusitis, and IBS can make the physical act even more challenging than the usual I-don't-wannas.
7. My favorite medical TV show is:
I don't like them, any of them.
8. A gadget I couldn't live without is:
Dolly, my laptop, who knows all.
9. The hardest part about nights is:
Insomnia, night sweats, a bladder the size of a PEA.
10. Each day I take [?] pills & vitamins.
I'm on B-12, D, a multivitamin, and Milk Thistle.
11. Regarding alternative treatments, I:
Since my intestines are shredded from a lifetime of eating a food that I cannot digest, I can no longer take most pain killers, OTC meds, et cetera. My life is all about alternatives.
12. If I had to choose between an invisible illness and a visible one, I would choose:
This question makes no sense to me; hypothetical choices rarely do.
13. Regarding working and career:
It's a little odd to work in the food industry and not be able to eat certain foods. On the other hand, I've got a lot of food knowledge, so I'm probably able to make more informed choices than someone outside the industry. I dunno, I make it work.
14. People would be surprised to know:
That I don't really mind my illness. It sucked ass when I didn't know why I felt like shit all the time, and was getting fat while starving to death, and couldn't walk or have sex, or enjoy anything, really. Old friends and family, who know how large a part of my diet cheese and bread (and their offshoots) used to be have more trouble wrapping their head around the issue than recent friends, acquaintances, and coworkers. I've found a lot of joy in food, in sourcing good food and preparing it well, and I take a great deal of pride in the cookery skills I've learned.
15. The hardest thing to accept about my new reality is:
That simple, wonderful foods like a tomato sandwich, or cornbread and buttermilk, banana pudding, or home-made mac'n'cheese are not my friends. I mourn the loss. Many of my best life memories feature foods that I can't eat without severe, long and short-term consequences.
Also, I can never be thoughtless, and just "pick up something" for lunch. I always have fruit and nuts with me. I have to pack msyself snacks and lunches for work, trips, and outtings. Meals are usually planned in advance, for several days. I've become an almost compulsive researcher of restaurants.
And finally, I am hungry a lot! I need to eat about every 3 hours.
16. Something I never thought I could do with my illness was:
This is an odd question, for me, because my diagnosis was like being healed. I guess I thought I couldn't live without my daily bread, but it turns out to be not such a big deal. I miss it, but I missed having a life a fuck of a lot more.
17. The commercials about my illness
Yeah, right.
18. Something I really miss doing since I was diagnosed:
Buying a NY bagel sam a couple mornings a week (toasted bagel, sour cream-cream cheese spread, lox, tomato, red onion, and capers) and walking down to the park next to Pike Place to eat breakfast with the pigeons and the morning dog walkers, overlooking Puget Sound.
19. It was really hard to give up:
Bread and cheese.
20. A new hobby I've taken up since my diagnosis is:
International cookery, and walking, like it's going out of style, man!
21. If I could have one day of feeling normal again, I would:
This is my normal again, and I'm grateful every fucking day.
22. My illness has taught me:
That the industrial medical industry is seriously, deeply flawed, and I am right to trust myself. Also, that people who wrinkle their nose or make gagging faces/noises while I'm heating up my lunch are idiots, and treating them with blatant contempt is fun.
23. Want to know a secret? One thing people say (about my illness) that gets under my skin is:
"Well, we would have invited you, but we didn't think you'd be comfortable," because god forbid I might have a salad or mussels, when everyone else is scarfing pasta, much less enjoy my salad. But you want to know another secret? People who say that sort of thing turn out to be people I don't actually want to socialize with, so it's worked out.
24. But I love it when people:
...just assume that I'm a responsible, competent adult who can manage her own issues without drama.
25. My favorite motto, scripture, quote that gets me through tough times is:
Breathe. In pink. Out blue. In pink. Out blue...
26. When someone is diagnosed I like to tell them:
To ignore substitute GF/DF products. They don't taste good, they're expensive, and they don't satisfy the root craving anyway, so ignore them-- drill down to what you actually want, and learn to feed yourself. It takes time, but it's totally worth it.
27. Something that has surprised me about living with an illness is:
How much it becomes simply another thing about me, like having fine hair, big hands, and skinny feet.
28. The nicest thing someone did for me when I wasn't feeling well was:
Take me out for sushi. Sushi is pretty much the perfect food for me, and fortunately it's among my favorite things on the planet, so when I recently got seriously funked and couldn't face cooking, cleaning, or even trying to eat, being spirited out to a sushi bar after work, in the middle of the week, was an amazing kindness. The one place where I can tell the chef to just go to town and not have to worry about anything biting me in the ass.
29. I'm involved with Invisible Illness Week because:
I don't think I am, since I just gacked this list from my flist, but getting diagnosed saved my sanity, as well as my life, and probably my marriage.
30. The fact that you read this list makes me feel:
A little sad. I'm a little sad now. Also, hungry. Time for some dolmas!
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Signal Boost: Soul Food Farm, an organic, local poultry purveyor in Vacaville, CA, was damaged by the recent fires. The community is asking for donations of time, energy, building materials, auctionables, and doh! cash, to get them over the hump. They lost two chicken houses, almost 1000 chicks, a barn, 30 acres of pasturage, and all of the income that would have been generated. Soul Food, like many small operations, operates at cost; they've been especially hard hit this year with closures of restaurants and declining orders due to the weak economy. If you live in the area, or are a supporter of small farmers and local foods, you can go to the followin link to learn how to help: http://soulfoodfarm.com/blog/2009/09/needs/
Deconstructing Obama's school speech: Marc Ambinder makes a funny in The Nation - Out Of Context Socialism
Glenn Beck has the hots for Van Jones: Grist.com has many good pieces on the latest loony witch hunt.
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| 2009-09-04 13:08 |
| Nice |
| Public |
 curious |
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What is "nice"?
I work with someone who is frequently described as nice, as in "oh, she seems nice." I smile, but I really want to ask, "what do you mean by that?" I don't, because I've found that it's the sort of question that generates funny looks in my direction, but I want to know. Especially in regards to this person, because I don't think she's "nice" at all.
She has a loud, cheerful voice. She makes polite conversation with customers, and coworkers when she wants something from them. She is fairly attractive, in a carefully groomed, normative way, complete with expensive blonde die job. She's youngish. She agrees with people who rank her.
But nice? In the four years I've known her, she's talked smack about everyone in the company; I assume she does the same about me, when I'm not around. Her primary pastime is shopping. She's worked in several different positions within the company, and is convinced that she has excelled in all of them-- her failure to succeed is incomprehensible to her. She has been fired once, but was rehired into a different position due to a personal relationship with someone who holds considerable power within the company.
She makes assumptions based on faulty data, acts on these assumptions, and blames others for the results. When presented with correct data by peers or people whom she considers "under" her, she argues; her primary argument is "I've been with this company for ## years!" not with current and accurate information. When told an action is not possible for reasons legal, financial, or pertaining to the laws of physics, she stomps her foots, pouts, and huffs off to tell someone about how she's being undermined, sabotaged, or persecuted.
She takes advantage of others' kindness and generosity. She'll ask a favor, and not only will she never repay it, she assumes that the person who did the favor will continue to do whatever it was in perpetuity. When that doesn't happen, she gets angry-- stomps her foot, et cetera. See above.
She will refuse to speak to, return emails from, attend meetings including, or act on the advice of people who have caused stompy-footness, to the active detriment of her customers, and our company.
She does not seem to realize that people compare notes or notice behavior that does not directly affect them, because she does not notice anything that does not directly affect her. Her behavior and performance is so consistently poor, in fact, that she comes up as "an issue" in meetings of other departments. Her boss(es) freely acknowledges that she is neither qualified nor suited for her current role: she has been closely managed and "mentored" for over a year in her current position, after being fired from her last, because in over five years in that role she never managed to perform to a reasonable expectation. Her strongest skills seem to be talking on the phone, agreeing with people who wield power and influence, and personal grooming.
And frankly, I usually don't have a problem with any of this. Whatever. It's mostly not my problem. But it does make me wonder... is she nice, or does she simply create a first impression of niceness? Is "nice" such a shallow descriptor that that is all that is required? I don't think of myself as a particularly nice person, and I don't think it's a word people often use to describe me. And I don't think I want to change that, at least if this person is "nice," because I don't want to be anything like her.
So tell me: what is "nice"?
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amused
quixotic
confused
tired![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small}
cranky
sleepy
hungry