Tales from the Steppes

2005-03-31

3:05 p.m.
And life's like an hourglass glued to the table, No one can find the rewind button

I suppose I could rant about my fucktard of a thesis advisor. I know, I know, it's not nice to call someone that. But I showed up today to have him say "There was no document attached to the email you sent me." Gee, when I look at what I sent you, it is showing an attachment. And my message referred to the attachment, so if it got "lost in the mail," you could have emailed me back and mentioned it. But no, you did nothing. But piss me off. So I have given him a new hardcopy and sent another electronic one. Perhaps he can get a dog and have him eat it. I'm just so glad I did not inconvenience myself by showing up early to hear his pathetic excuse.

So now on to today's burning topic. And no, it is not Terry Schiavo. Far more significantly, an Inquiring Mind emailed me and asked after the descriptions of my entries - what they mean, where they come from etc. Well, I.M., about 10 months ago I got tired of coming up with catchy phrases to describe and differentiate my entries. Because they are all basically the same - me whining about the minutiae of my life. Since I listen to music for most of my waking hours, it only seems natural to "borrow" phrases or lines from whatever I am listening to at the time. As to meaning, sometimes there is meaning and sometimes not. Your mileage may vary.

It appears like I am getting a job offer on the position I interviewed for a couple of weeks ago. My boss has been contacted, my team leader called, and they have asked for my references. Today my boss told me I "nailed the interview." That's nice, let's see what they come up with for an offer.

I have some reservations about this job. Part of them center around juggling my current life while working another 20 hours a week. The other part has to do with the division chief I would be working under. Jeff is considered by all to be a smart person, very knowledgeable, and a good manager. The problem comes in with where he puts his eyes. The entire time I interviewed, he stared at my chest. He spoke to it, even when I tried to make eye contact with him. And this is while I was wearing a turtleneck. What's going to happen when I wear less?

I said something to Kathy about it. Perhaps it was my imagination. (I KNOW it was not wishful thinking) Oh no, apparently he has been written up for this before. Now I will not be working directly for him, so that is a plus. I am still loathe to put myself in the position of being a subordinate to someone who can't look me in the eye.

Oh fuck. I just found out that I have to present my thesis work. In five minutes. To a professorial candidate. That's notice for you.