linden_jay

I've been commenting in a lot of places over the past few days, and I've friended a few new people, and I realized that I don't have one of those handy 'all about me' posts to give people the quick 'who is this person?' details about who's just shown up to babble in their journal. So I'm gonna do that now.

( Jay Linden used to be my 'oh my god, you're a total freak' name. As in, someone would approach me, be a total freak, and ask for my name, and this was the name I gave out automatically. It was an obvious choice when I came onto live journal, where being a freak is kind of the order of the day and all.... )

Yes. Um. That. I posted that on twitter, and never quite explained myself. So, new job!

This is one of those situations where someone went 'hey, the night auditor at the hotel doesn't have nearly enough work to do--so why don't we also have them do all the pool maintenance, as well as mopping the pool area/vacuuming the front lobby area/other work that we used to pay a bellman to do. This is much better!' As it happens, I disagree with this assessment. But they don't pay me to disagree.

As much as I tangle my work, home life, and fandom all together, I think I'm going to be mostly blogging at work over at jay_bean, just to keep it away from the jay_linden identity. I'll also probably be flocking most of my work related rants whether they're here or there, but particularly if they're here (oh, there are going to be work related rants... I can see this already), so if you want to be on that filter, or you want off that filter, then look! It's a handy poll!

[Poll #1557066]

Later, I can do the actual, y'know. Ranting. But I figured I should know who wants to listen to me do the ranting first.

It's been a full week since my interview, I've heard nothing yet, and they're still running the ad in the paper. I'm really not sure what to take from that... or what the policy is for what someone should do, in this eventuality. Is a follow-up email appropriate? Assuming I could find an email address to even write to. Gah. This is why I hate looking for work. Just hire me, people! I'm awesome! I will bring the internets to vouch for me! I'm organized and all kinds of shiny... can the people in my RPG who have seen my dorktastic organizational skills be my reference? Perhaps not.

The Frog and Monkey are mostly over the cold/flu/respiratory virus of doom, except that the Frog is still coughing his little lungs out. All night. Which wakes him up even more than usual, which wakes me up even more than usual. I can't tell if my sore throat is just a protest of the seasonal change and lack of sleep, or if I'm getting sick...er. Since I don't know that I ever got over being sick in the first place.

It's kind of ridiculous the stuff that happens while under the influence of lack of sleep. I know that the Frog woke me up at sometime past 5:00am. I know that I took him to bed with me and we both fell back asleep. I know that I did not put him back in his crib. I have no memory record of the Academic Husband coming in and relieving me of the Frog. So, at some point, he came in and like, literally took my wee one out of my arms and spirited away with him... and I do not remember this at all. One hopes that if it were someone, y'know, OTHER than my husband doing that, I would remember it. SIGH.

Sigh. The Frog did not sleep. I know, right? Shock. He's still sick, still snotty, and I think he keeps trying to breathe through his nose in the middle of the night, not being able to do it, and freaking himself out into a coughing fit because of it. Every. 45. to. 90. Minutes. Good grief on toast.

You know it's bad when the babies are so tired and snarky that they can't get through a bowl of applesauce. Take a bite, lip tremble, SOB. Only an hour after they wake up. Okay, back to bed for you. Never mind that Mummy hasn't slept yet, that's immaterial! Clearly we need a nap! Except... why are you bouncing in your crib? Two minutes ago you were so tired you were rubbing apple sauce in your eyes and hair... and now you're bouncing? WOT? That makes NO SENSE.

Babies are freaks, man. Also possibly evil.

I was already prepared for today to suck. I'm a month away from running out of maternity leave (I know, cry moar you Canadian, with your year long paid maternity leave), but that means that I need to find more work. Because my job won't start up again until September, because that's when the new school year starts.

There are two things I hate more than anything in the world: doing the cold call walk in the door and drop off a resume thing, and training for a new job once I get the new job. HATE HATE HATE. I hate not being good at things. I hate the fucking up until you get it right stage. Plus, I'm convinced that my resume looks like it was put together by a particularly intelligent Shi-tzu.

I think that I don't hear babies. Oh please, please let me be right. I am so tired.

Why? Because this is my wee frog, who is still supposed to be a tiny baby and not growing up and getting ready for y'know, his own car, and university, and dating, and whatever, but here he is, at ten months, sixteen days, and he's standing, all by himself.



*does iharthdarth BREATHE*

I'm not ready! Where did my tiny wee alien who left the hospital at under five pounds go?

And you know, his sister's not far behind him. Look!



I think I really do need to go lie down. Or have a drink. Or a cry. My babies are growing up!

*awesome Hollywood t-shirt from sabrinagb

**awesome monkey dress from ashinae

( A few more GIANT ALIEN pictures behind the cut... )

I spent the entire evening caught in a wiki loop, researching up on orcas. One news story, and I got stuck for hours. IRRITATING. I had PLANS.

I have more or less learned how to use delicious, and I will now be moving most of my bookmarks over onto there, for the stuff what I read. This will make me much less tense about losing the links for the bunches of stories I've got saved. It's also giving me the impetus for a project I've been wanting to do for ages.

See, I suck at feedback. I mean I epically suck at giving feedback. I get shy, I get worried, I'm afraid that my comment will suck... whatever. And it's all stupid because I know how much I love getting feedback, especially on my older stuff. It's neat knowing that people are discovering things years after I write them.

So. I plan to bookmark things as I reread them, and try and leave feedback for the authors. So, if you're wondering why you're getting feedback from me on something that you wrote years ago? It's because I've had it in my memories or my bookmarks and I've reread it seventeen times, but been too shy up until now to comment. So... yes. Anyway--that's my plan.

That and scouring around for every bit of good fic from the Fast and the Furious world as I can possibly find, now that I've finished the fourth movie. (And am not watching the third one. I need the thirty second version, because no Paul, no Vin, no Tyrese? NO.) I babbled about the fourth movie here, and I'm glad that I finally watched them. After poor apetslife had to keep at me for like, hell, nine months? Hee.

Also sleeping more. Good luck there though.

If you forward me an email, and it's a joke, I'll read it and laugh, especially if it's funny, and not sexist, racist, or homophobic.

If you forward me an email, and it tells me I have to send it to X number of people in order to incurr good fortune/save the spotted owls/earn money/not bring on the apocalypse? I will delete it. Unless it's meant as a joke, in which case I'll probably still read it, but then delete it, and I wouldn't expect me to forward it to anyone else. Just saying.

If you forward me an email that has seven THOUSAND forwarded lines in it above the actual message and I have to scroll for an hour to get to the message? I will yell at the top of my lungs and frighten my children and cats, before I delete it with a growl and an angry stab of my mouse finger. I will then wish bad things to happen to you. Not really bad things, because I'm not that guy, but maybe your milk will go bad before the expiration date, and you'll eat a bite of really bad eggs and it'll taste gross, and you'll run out of toilet paper and forget the next time you sit down and have to use tissues or paper towel. Something like that.

This rant inspired by some dippy twit I friended back on facebook, not anyone on any journaling system, but y'know. Sometimes you gotta rant.

2010 is here, and thank fuck for that. Seriously. I have never had a year that I was so happy to see end as 2009, and I know it's been that way for a lot of people that I love. So goodbye, 2009. Don't let the door hit you where the good lord split you, as they say. I got two good things in 2009, and they're both sleeping right now, which is another thing I'm grateful for. I might do some of those retrospective things in the next day or so, if I can stop hissing at 2009 long enough to get them typed. But for tonight, at least:

( The Bad )

( The Good )

What's sad? I know I've missed some of the bad stuff, but I'm pretty sure that I got all of the good stuff.

Anyway--goodbye, 2009. You will not be missed.

*From my 2010 'The Daily Bitch' calendar, which I was given for Christmas by my mother in law. I love that our relationship is such that she can give me a Daily Bitch calendar, and she knows it'll make me laugh. I'm planning on using them as my status messages for the year, as I try and post more.

Getting so frustrated whilst trying to get your uncooperative boycreature to sleep that you end up winding yourself up, so that by the time he falls asleep... you can't.

Hey, you know what's not fun?

That, because I just lied.

I will now celebrate my newfound sleeplessness by cleaning my house... after taking two muscle relaxants to make my back stop hurting.

Actually, this could be fun after all....

ETA: Why does it make me giggle that this is the 600th entry in my lj? SIGH.

And oh my god, does it feel good, even though I feel ass.

There will be a more detailed update of all the what the fuckness that was my Friday through Tuesday night at another time. So for right now, a few bullet points ( under the cut... )