Came home from working concession at the show after the CSZ show tonight (and which was very funny, and enjoyable) with words spinning in my head, and lofty plans to sketch out a story that is intended to fill a gap in my SnapeFic series (as well as serve as a belated birthday gift for Janet, who always leaves such sweet comments in BOTH my blogs), and instead of writing, have gotten lost in netsurfing and sort of watching Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets yet again, to get the speech patterns back in my head.

But did I write? Nope. Not a word. Except here. Which doesn’t count.

(Have I mentioned that I love sentence fragments almost as much as parenthetical clauses and aliiteration? Well, now I have.)

I spent 53.25 hours at work last week, which mean, thanks to a phenomenal number of closings in May (I beat the threshhold number for the top level spiff. Go me.), as well as the oodles of overtime, my checks for the next two periods should be big enough to cover the Edge card I need for my laptop as well as an actual iPod and getting my highlights redone. Tech before primping though.

Fuzzy has an interview on July Sixth for a big promotion at work. Send job karma then.

Am still prepping for BLOGATHON 2006. I’m still vacillating about my charity of choice. So far the leading contenders are Habitat for Humanity and First Book. Any thoughts?

Am almost finished reading Spirits in the Wires, my second CDL book, about the Internet as a sort of faerie borderland. Interesting concept, love the characters, have become quite the fan of this author.

Have been up far too many hours today. Awake at 5:30, at WORK two hours later, although, there was breakfast. These last two weeks have really messed up my sleep. I’m NOT a morning person. But I’ll be starting July with an approved pipeline of like 25 loans, so it’s not all bad. And training liked my resume.

Sleep now.

I spent the day wrapped in metaphysical cotton,waking from feather-soft sleep to muted grey light beyond my window, created not from clouds but the absence of morning sun. It was false dawn which greeted me.

At work, there was an element of disconnection, as if I was observing events, but not really participating, at least until an errant sheet of paper sliced my right index finger.

With the welling of my blood came the sudden onslaught of noise and activity, as if the cotton had finally been ripped away, and I was once more part of the world.

90% of the time, I really enjoy my job, but right now, I feel really trapped, like I’m ready to move on to something new and challenging in a different sense than just, “Gee, how many files can I push through in a single day?” I’m not learning anything new, or adding skills, except that I did finally manage to untwist my telephone cord, but that’s hardly a moneymaker.

I’ve spent almost my entire life in the mortgage industry, and there’s nothing wrong with that, but I think I’m a little afraid to push harder for different opportunities. And the corporate part of things drives me crazy, with the minimum time at Company rules and the minimum time in position rules, and stuff. I mean, I understand that it costs money to train people, but they didn’t teach me how to process loans. They didn’t even train me on the software – I shadowed other people for a week until I had access, then largely figured it out myself. I mean, THEY KICKED ME OUT of new hire training because I KNEW TOO MUCH. So, truly, there’s no investment that way.

And there are departments suffering for people, where I would be challenged. Not to mention have more money AND better hours.

So while I still love the people I work with? Right now? Not loving the actual work.

Two AM.
Eyes open.
Ticking clocks
And falling rain.*

Left work at 7:15 on Friday night relieved at avoiding a mandatory Saturday again. Next week doesn’t look so good for that, as it’s month end, which seems to come sooner and sooner. We went to ComedySportz with the intention of JUST watching, since I didn’t think I’d get there early enough to help out with anything, but I ended up floating between the bar (concession stand, really) and stamping hands. I’ve never been able to be there on a Friday before, as I usually don’t leave work til 7:30. The show was funny, as always, with many many 12-year-olds in the audience, and the themes resulting therefrom.

Today, had lofty intentions of actually doing something productive, but all I managed to achieve was leaving a message for my cousin in New Jersey, who had left me one a week ago. Can I help it if I’m never home? Slept, read, slept some more, showered, went to ComedySportz again, and again did hand stamping and bar – we needed one more person, really, as the show was beyond sold out, and there were only four of us – we didn’t really have a greeter – but we managed.

After the show, went to the piano bar with some of the troupemembers – had fun singing along, but still need to work on not staying so internal – I’m not as shy and quiet as I end up being, really, and it’s frustrating. Still, I had fun. It started raining while we were there, and as we were leaving the lightning really kicked in.

The lightning, actually, was glorious – we were ooh-ing and aaah-ing in the car, especially when there were Dracula-esque flashes around the tops of the tall downtown Dallas buildings. Wish I’d had the camera with me. At one point on the ride home (well, sort of, we gave someone else a ride) a lightning flash illuminated one of the giant giraffe statues at the Dallas Zoo, which startled me, because I was geographically disoriented, and wasn’t expecting it to be so close. Was a cool effect though.

Stopped at Denny’s for breakfast food on the way home, as we haven’t shopped in eons. When you’re at work from before eight to after seven all week, things like shopping aren’t really easy to schedule. This week should improve – at least there’s no more training.

Tomorrow, I plan to sleep late, eat something reasonably healthy and not be shy at workshop. Wish me luck with that please?

*From Be My Music by Lee Curreri.

An open letter from a friend has me considering colors. What does it mean that forest green is a comforting color to me, and why don’t I have much blue in my wardrobe, when I love the colors of the ocean so? Today, not feeling well, I wrapped myself in white cotton and a comforter of navy, cobalt, periwinkle and white, and slept away the afternoon, choosing to lose three hours of work rather than force myself to get through the day, only to lose more time tomorrow. Soft green leafy thoughts cushioned my mind while I dreamed peaceful things.

The day began with me stumbling around in a sleep-befuddled state, going through the motions of showering, putting on makeup, etc. We left the house at seven, stopped at Starbucks (where, I have to say, it’s criminally incompetent to have a new barista working during morning rush). I got to work to find that a file I KNOW I had stips for was returned by the underwriting for lacking the very stips I was certain were put in. I told my teammate K, who was covering my desk this week, that I would handle it at lunch, but either she didn’t hear me, or the manager on-call was trying to be helpful, because it went to underwriting AGAIN, and was returned with a “Decline Incomplete” status.

Meanwhile I was in the training class from hell, in which Scott (not his real name) went through a powerpoint presentation of screenshots of the new software (which, mind you, we had two weeks of training on in APRIL) as a helpful “review.” Had this lasted the five minutes – ten at the outside – that it really required, this would have been bearable, and almost informative. Alas, he kept us captive for THREE HOURS, during which he went through every. single. screen. Twice.

You know that scene in The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy when Ford and Arthur are subjected to Vogon poetry and their heads nearly explode? I felt like that. Only instead of being repulsed, I was bored nearly to tears. And that, coupled with severe lack of sleep, meant that it was all I could do to stay awake and pretend to care about what was being said.

It wasn’t just me, though. At the break there was almost a queue to beat our heads against the wall. Almost. A teammate, my manager, and I all vented to each other, then got more coffee (I’d already nursed a quadruple venti iced almond nonfat latte all morning).

So, by noon, I’m bored, jittery from a quantity of caffeine that was a bit much even for me, and crabby because I was tired. We went to lunch at the corporate cafe where they were pimping the most amazing taco salads ever, and I proceeded to douse my shirt with cranberry juice. (At least it wasn’t white).

After a luxurious twenty minutes of actual lunching, we all trooped up to our desks, working for forty minutes while our teammates bitched about having to help with our files. Well, not MY teammates, because our team is uber-cool and we get along splendidly, but the other ppl’s teams were much with the bitching. Not fun.

A bit later, we went back to class, where we were subjected to a lesson on how to do a verification of employment. We have all been through training on this. We all do about ninety such verifications a month. We told the trainer this when he asked. HE WENT THROUGH THE ENTIRE THING ANYWAY.

I’m pretty sure I slept through most of it, because by that time my pod-mate and I had amassed a collection of chairs, and made ourselves comfortable, and Todd’s voice is relaxing, with a neutral accent, and no real dynamic changes. . Our managers shook their heads, laughing, and didn’t care. (They were busy surfing flickr and looking at vacation pictures, anyway.) Anyway, we were granted another break, and the lot of us trooped over to the espresso bar for caffeine and sugar. (The sugar ended up being one really intense slice of chocolate mousse cake and ten forks, – we all shared the cake.)

We sat in the cushy lobby chairs and chatted for a while, then went back to class for another hour, after which half of us went back to work. I was greeted with a plate of really amazing pizza, and an apology from another teammate. “I forgot you were in training, and we ordered this today. Have some?” It was cold, but I like cold pizza.

Still, my brain was fried, is fried, and I barely got through the last two hours of my day. Finally I could leave, and now I’m home, beating my Creative Zen Micro into submission and preparing for sleep, and another boring day of training I neither need or want.

Would someone remind me, please, why I sold out to the soulsucking corporate world?
Yeah.
I don’t know either.

I’m in training all week at work, because they think it actually takes a week of eight-hour sessions to learn a piece of software. I’ve begged them to just give me the manual (which is in serious need of editing) and let me just figure it out, but they say I have to sit through it.

(I hated school for the same reason I hate training classes. I have no patience for people who teach to the lowest common denominator.)

I did score my own copy of the manual, however, so, hey, bonus.

* * * * *

The worst thing about being stuck in a class, however, is that my usual schedule is that I still have to work from the end of class, at five, to the end of my normal shift, at seven, which isn’t so bad, really – we’re well paid – salary + OT + incentives – and they’re bridging our bonuses so those of us in training aren’t losing income – but class starts at 8:30, and I have enough of a workload because I was covering two desks in addition to my own, last week, that I have to be in by 7:30 or so every day this week, in order to keep caught up.

Which means being up at six.

And I am so NOT a morning person. I mean, I LIKE my cushy 10-7 shift, and not having to worry about what the traffic will be like between Grand Prairie and Irving, or lines in Starbucks, or, or or…

Ugh.
Yeah.
Just UGH.

We keep the ringer on the bedroom phone turned off, for the most part, so when I heard the phone ringing at 12:15, I thought it was the television. Of course, I was watching Rent, and the phone in the guy’s flat sounds nothing like any of our phones, so I did finally glance over and see that the caller ID was active, and the area code was from Minnesota.

I knew, of course, that it’d be Julia (Bripadme to the LJ crewe) calling from Cupertino, where she’s spending her weeknights for the next month or so. “Melissa!!!!!!” she shrieked into the phone so loudly that I could actually count the six exclamation points. “Guess where I am?”

But I knew. Well, sort of.

“San Jose!!!!!!!” I squealed back, using SEVEN exclamation points, because, hey, I’m the one writing the entry. (Actually, I did not squeal. I never squeal. Ever. Well. Not in public. But I was properly enthusiastic, if a little jealous because I’ve been homesick all month, and it’s not improving. )

Anyway, she was calling from the middle of Stevens Creek Blvd to ask for advice on late night dining. I’d recommended Hobee’s because no one should miss out on such a place, but it was after ten in California (obviously) and since it’s Sunday, it was closed. She found an IHOP as I was looking up addresses for Denny’s (which I knew would be open, though the only one I’m familiar with is the one on Bascom in Campbell) on the web, but it, too, was closed. (As I’m writing this I’ve just remembered that the IHOP on N. First in downtown San Jose is open past ten, but sending her to downtown San Jose, from Cupertino, after having been on a plane all day, seemed cruel. I mean, if I was gonna send her that far, I’d have just sent her to Original Joe’s.)

I need to remind her that there’s generally a nifty piano player in the lobby of the SJ Fairmont at night. She’d enjoy it, I think. (Actually, I dated a guy who played piano at the Fairmont way back in the mists of my pre-Fuzzy life, but that is a completely different story, and I’m saving it for the book, I think.)

Anyway, I finally just sent her back the other way on Stevens Creek, knowing that if she went far enough she’d eventually hit Safeway and/or McDonalds, and I recommended she check out Miyake for lunch while she was in town, so all is well.

But the ten minute conversation we had was enough to wipe away the remnants of me being incredibly frustrated and disappointed in myself earlier tonight, and it was good to talk to her, however briefly. *sigh* I really need more women friends.

My last words to her, “Hah, I’m giving you directions in a city I don’t even live in. I am so blogging this.” And so I’ve done.

Last year, with the help of all of you, I raised (roughly) a thousand dollars for Habitat for Humanity

This year, I’d really like to double that, but I need your help now. (I’m also considering a different charity. Something smaller. $1000 goes farther for a small charity than a large one.)

First, I need help with an over-all theme. You may remember that I solicited pix of doors last year, and used them, along with song lyrics, as inspiration for entries and flash fic on a theme of houses and home. This year, I’ll likely be MoBlogging at least part of it, because of external committments, and because it’s way easier to stay awake when you’re out and about.

Second, I need a support system. Especially during the wee hours of the night. If I know you, and you’re local, I’m willing to host a sort of “Slumber Party for Grown Ups,” just to have help staying up. If you’re NOT local, please consider chatting with me over IM during the ‘thon. This helps more than you could ever know.

Third, I need your money. (But not yet.)

Blogathon 2006 begins at 9:00 AM EST on Saturday, July 29th, and lasts 24 hours, with a required post every half hour. Charities are chosen by individual bloggers, and must be able to accept online donations. No blogger ever handles any donated funds..

I say… And you think…?

1. Band :: Aid
2. Tan :: Shoes & pink shoelaces
3. Mount :: Ararat
4. Arcade :: Pinball wizard
5. Customize :: Specify
6. Hamburger :: Mary’s
7. Solid :: State
8. Forbidden :: Forest
9. Deter :: Desist
10. Torment :: Sweet torture

Like this meme? Play along here.