Monday, February 28, 2005

The Stress of Working by the Hour

Yes, it's nice to have the flexibility of scheduling nominally allowed by the fact that I'm only getting paid for when I'm there. But it's also extremely stressful, especially for someone with an overdeveloped conscience like mine, to sit at a job where I get paid by the hour if I don't have something specific to do. If my supervisors are out at meetings, haven't yet responded to my emails, reviewed the last thing I've accomplished nor given me a new assignment, in theory it's their fault that I'm not doing anything productive. And yet I still can't legitimately sit at my desk and goof off...at least I don't think so. So I do some combination of possibly-maybe useful web research and goofing off, while trying to look busy and focused. This involves keeping my ears tuned for approaching footsteps and having my fingers ever-ready on the alt-tab keys, and results in my being bored and stressed simultaneously. I also end up shaving bits off of the time I bill for, because I feel guilty that I wasn't really working during some of that time. But if that wasn't my fault...

Sigh.

Help, please!

I need to come up with a topic (which presumably should be vaguely anthropological in some way) around which to design a research proposal for the course I'm taking. Any ideas?

Tuesday, February 22, 2005

Is it just me?

...or is it really rather absurd that the New York Public Library branch I returned a book to today does not have a book return bin? I leaned between the 15+ people waiting at the desk to ask "Where can I just return this?" The woman pointed to the line. I didn't understand -- I explained that I didn't have to pay a fee. A woman on the line said, "Neither do I."

Flabbergasted, I took my place at the back of the line. But really, they're not saving their own staff any time or effort that way, they're just aggravating the people who have to wait and annoying everyone else in the library by making it so crowded. When I finally got back to the desk, I politely asked the woman behind it why they don't have a bin for books that aren't overdue and don't need to be renewed, and she just gave me a blank stare and didn't answer.

Our tax dollars at work.

Mayim Rabim

See here.

Kol hakavod,
Shanna. Telchi mi'chayil l'chayil. :-)

Sunday, February 20, 2005

Title Change

Yeah, see, I spoiled it.

No, not really. It's just that although that title is more interesting, it's also representative of the past. I like the past a lot; sometimes I think I'm in love with it (or certain parts of it). I need to stop looking over my shoulder, though. I wallow in memories a lot, which is often pleasant and often painful...and sometimes both at once.

I want to keep the people from then, and keep the memories too, but I'm making a change in title to remind me to change the emphasis in my life. I'm on a bridge between eras right now, and pushing forward is the key.

Kadima.

Title Explanation

I've been telling those who asked for an explanation of the rather esoteric title of this blog that I would post one eventually. So, despite my suspicion that I have only a very few readers who do not actually understand it on their own, here it is:

Spinach: One shabbat morning when I lived at the CJL, I was lazing in bed when a friend who lived down the hall sauntered into my room, looked at my shape (one leg straight out, one leg bent to the side) under my large, fluffy down comforter, and said, "You look square. You look like...a knish. Hey...Knisha!" And soon thereafter it was decided that I was, specifically, a spinach Knisha. After shabbat she drew a picture of a knish, with spinach hanging out the edges, on the dry-erase board on my door. Judging that to be insufficient, she then drew an x-ray view of a spinach knish, showing the spinach inside as well, and labeled each drawing accordingly. I have henceforth been known among my then-next-door neighbors and other select friends as Knisha.

Almonds: I have, among my knicknacks, a small bar of wood along which sit several different types of nuts in their shells, glazed and with googly eyes. Their bench is captioned, "Sometimes I think we're all nuts." Anyone acquainted with my circle of friends might agree that this declaration rather aptly captures our zaniness. (No, I don't think we're unique in that character description, but that doesn't minimize its accuracy.) Anyhow, during that same year when I resided in The House, a conversation arose in which the participants attempted to identify the particular nut that each one of us exemplifies. Shanna, for example, is a walnut. The others don't have online presences, so I'll leave their privacy intact...but I'm sure you've guessed by now what I am. No, I can't explain why we each are what we are. We just are. There are definitely reasons, but they are too elusive to put to words. We just understood (and still do, I believe), based on our familiarity with each other and the others we honored with classification, what their own individual brand of nuttiness is.

Sharp Pointy Teeth: During my freshman and sophomore years (yes, quite a long time ago), I was a Chai Note. One random evening during break a bunch of us (plus a groupie) were all in NYC and decided to go out to dinner together, and that meal produced a similar characterization session, except in this realm, we are all animals. I, apparently, am an alligator.

Wednesday, February 16, 2005

Catching my breath

I just want to acknowledge that I've been posting rather sporadically. Keeping up with work and school and some degree of recreation and chores and city commuting and parental distractions...well, I'm looking forward to Presidents' Weekend very much.

Go Science!

This could be a huge step in the sustainable energy revolution. Very, very cool!!!

Saturday, February 05, 2005

City Life

I was walking through Central Park to where I was invited for lunch today, and there was an odd arrangement lining the walkways on the way into and out of the park. It consisted of rows of stone slabs about three feet long, with two smaller pieces of stone about three inches thick under each end of each slab. Each unit had a flat, plastic, iridescent orange thing on either end of it that reminded me of the little orange tags around newly planted lawns that tell people not to walk on them.

Apparently, these are the foundations of The Gates that will soon be erected as an art exhibit. My first impression of them, however, was of baby benches being planted so that they can grow into big, strong adult benches. Hey -- in a city whose storekeepers and building maintenance personnel spend all the non-winter months watering the sidewalk, it would hardly surprise me.

Friday, February 04, 2005

Sigh

Would you just look at this kitchen?!!! Drool...

Thursday, February 03, 2005

ARGH!

This morning I ran out of the apartment, realized in the hallway that my earlobes were naked, ran back in to grab something with which to clothe them, and ran out again.

Just now I looked in the mirror at close range while brushing my teeth and noticed that I am wearing one pearl earring and one gold ball. Tell me, couldn't someone have told me this over the course of the day? I can't imagine that no one noticed. But then again, couldn't I have noticed any of the handful of times I was in the bathroom? I hate looking like an airhead...even if it sometimes happens to be true.

Outflow

I'm getting very frustrated by the fact that everywhere I go and everything I do in this city is causing me to spend money. I'm not saying I'm being forced -- certainly my willpower could use some reinforcement. But that's just the point -- I can't walk two blocks here without being required to call upon that willpower. I really better clamp down, though, or else I won't be going anywhere next year.

And in addition to losing money, I'm gradually losing sleep. I find it simply impossible to go to bed at 11 most of the time. I need time to do work for my course, time to run errands, and time to relax (yes, blogging is included in that). But I actually do need 8 hours, so by the third day after getting only 6-7, I'm zonked...and by the weekend, I'm running on adrenaline or falling over. I ask again, how does everyone who has so much more to do than me, do it all???

Wednesday, February 02, 2005

Phrase of the Day

Today I was told that I was speaking with "intelligent confusion." I'll leave the rest to your imagination.

Tuesday, February 01, 2005

Mikvah Musings

Oops, one more. Just want to refer you to Shanna, who's starting a really cool project!