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words my censor missed
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total nonsense from a girl who ought to know better
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Status check:
Eloped. (Screw the wedding industry.)
Now employed full time. Still in academia, but this time as staff. I wouldn't recommend it.
Must write more. Oh well.
We have a house! And land! And a mortgage...
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Thursday, April 30, 2009
Two months later...
Yeah, I dunno what happened to March and most of (okay, all of) April either.
I'm still here, still ticking along. Signed up for another week-long travel event at the end on June - but it's for a workshop I really wanted to attend, and it is only one trip, not four all squished together. It should be fine, I'm sure.
And if not, at least it will be interesting.
Also, it will be an important test run for the possible Salt Lake City trip in August. Jay has a conference there, and I would really like to accompany him, but not really sure how it's going to feel like traveling at that stage.
Anywho... I have actualy work to do today, so I better get to it.Labels: Vermont life
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Friday, February 20, 2009
February Shmebruary, and a note to male students
So I'm still not really back in the habit of regular posting yet. Who knows if I ever will be. I had a five day travel to Florida for a conference experience, quickly followed by rehearsals and then a performance of the Vagina Monologues, then poker night. By the time we got home on Friday the 13th, I was shaking so bad I was just about literally crying for sleep.
And this week I've been pretty lame. Had another late night on Tuesday, hosting an event to talk with students about advising at the college, and since then have just been coasting toward the weekend. Next week the students are all gone for winter break, and I am heading south to NYC to check in with my sisters. Yay!
Of course, then I get back from that and leave for another (more local) two day conference down in Nashua, NH (starts on my birthday, thanks a lot), but Jay will be at another conference in Massachusetts that weekend, so it's not like we would be enjoying the time together in any case. I get home from that on the 7th though, and then on the 10th, I leave for another conference in Saratoga Springs - where I will actually be presenting. Ack.
So, pretty much what I'm saying here is that the scarcity of posting looks like it won't let up for a while yet.
But you're used to it now, I'm sure. Heh heh.
And finally, a note to the college men who come to my office:
Please bathe. Regularly. With soap.
I will be more likely to spend lots of time with you and help out and let you use my computer if you don't smell like someone who has been sleeping in their own stench for weeks at a time.
If you smell like sour funk, don't be surprised when I suggest that you go look up the information about the college you might want to transfer to in your own room, and then come back when you have something more concrete. And after you have bathed.
That is all.Labels: teaching, Vermont life
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Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Bawk bawk
Sometimes I forget that seemingly normal people often have deep wells of The Crazy hiding inside. And I've been trying to limit my consumption of The Crazy, so...
I waited until said coworker was occupied and spoke directly to the student organizer.
"Hey, I was just browsing the website last night and, gosh, I think the rules must have changed since X last checked them, because..."
Wimpy, but effective. And didn't have to absorb any Crazy. Yet.Labels: things that irk me
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Monday, January 26, 2009
Pants on Fire
Or maybe not...
I think I just caught a coworker in a blatent lie that affects another former coworker.
But maybe she just has poor reading comprehension?
What to do, what to do?
Would feel better if I didn't suspect confrontation will end badly for me.
Don't want her to think I was checking up on her, even though I totally was.
Maybe I will wait a day and mention the "updated" rules to the organizer directly.
Hmm.Labels: things that irk me, Vermont life
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Thursday, January 22, 2009
Milovan Loves You
In fact, I think Milovan loved just about everyone except his "wife, that bitch."
I met Milovan when I worked at the large, downtown hotel in Salt Lake City. I was one of the guest services managers, and he was one of the bellmen, and I have to say that I never did quite get a handle on him.
What I know is this.
He grew up in Croatia, got married there, had a daughter. During the conflict in the area, he moved with his family to Germany for a few years until he was able to bring them to the United States. At the time I knew him, his daughter was about 13 years old, and had thankfully not inherited her father's looks. I met her once or twice - slim, blond, blue-eyed, no obvious deformities - pretty, but not shockingly so. Milovan, god bless him, would not have been out of place in a line of gargoyles.
I know he had done construction work in Germany, but he told me he much preferred working at the hotel and for one of the local airport shuttle companies in Salt Lake. Because the hotel we both worked at had a contract with the shuttle, and Milovan worked a double shift most days, I saw quite a bit of him.
He always greeted me (sometimes many time throughout the shift) with "Heeeey, Kate. Milovan loves you." Which, despite being mildly creepy, was also very hard to resist because of his general good nature, and fact that he greeted most of the women who worked there in a similar fashion. I should probably add that not all of them found it as amusing as I did.
He was never inappropriate - and was in fact very generous with time and favors (like driving me home when my car was out of commission), without ever implying that he expected anything in return.
All the same, I have to say that I was never tempted to dig much past the surface. I liked working with Milovan, and enjoyed his unique outlook and interactions, but I had the sense that if I looked more closely, I would find things I didn't want to know. And when I left the hotel in the Spring of 2003, I heard my last ever "Heeey, Kate. Milovan loves you."
Nonetheless, I don't think I'll ever forget it.Labels: friends
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Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Glenn
I realized the only way I'm going to actually write these things that I want to write is to not worry about any sort of order and just throw them out as they occur to me.
So, Glenn.
I moved to Grand Canyon, Arizona in May 1999. I moved there because I no longer wanted to live in Pittsburgh near my parents. Also, I fell deeply deeply in love with the Southwest United States on a family road trip in 1995. The hot, dry air, the subtle colors of the rocks and sand, the surprisingly varied plants - from Ponderosa Pine to short and spiky yucca. And the Grand Canyon herself... The Canyon seemed like a religion to me. You know, a religion that wouldn't make me want to beat my head against the wall or go out a shoot someone. A pretty damn rare and special kind of religion.
Sadly, I've never been especially good with religion, and I never quite made it into the ranks of the True Believers, which is partly why I left the Grand Canyon in May 2001. But that's not really relevant to this little essay which I'm pretending is about someone I once knew who made a lasting impression on me.
So. Glenn. Glenn was one of the leads (like a supervisor) at the Bright Angel Transportation Desk (the BAT desk - hah). Unlike the myriad employees of the concessionaire who sported name tags proclaiming origins of "Iowa", "Indiana", "Pennsylvania", or "France", Glenn's read "Arizona", though to be more precise, it could have just as easily read "Navajo Nation". And also unlike the mostly transient employee base, Glenn, like many of the other Navajo employees, were much more permanent residents and workers.
When I started working at BA Trans, Glenn had been there for five years. He'd been in the park for 10. This in a place where the average length of employment ran about 2 months. He didn't speak to me. He rarely made eye contact when he did speak in his low and steady, nearly-monotone voice, and he said the most appalling things to the guests. At least, as far as I was concerned.
One morning, a couple approached the desk and asked if the weather was going to hold for their overnight mule trip to Phantom Ranch. "Let me consult my crystal ball," Glenn replied. The thing I heard him say most often was, "Ma'am (or sir), you need to calm down. I'm trying to help you." As part of my training, I went on that particular overnight trip and had to listen to this couple complain about how rude Glenn had been to them.
Of course, after 2 years of dealing with similar questions, I couldn't believe how calm he managed to remain. We never had a close friendship, but I know we appreciated each other's competence at the job. Most likely because competence was in ridiculously short supply.
If you listened carefully, you might have realized that the man had a wicked sense of understated humor, and that he always called 'em like he saw 'em. He would not hesitate to tell you if he thought you were wrong, or being an idiot. He was never late for a shift (shockingly rare trait in the staff there) and he never made any of the tragic mistakes that some of the other leads did (like overbooking or letting guests with questionable English skills go on the mule trip). Of course, by the time I got there, he had spent five years at the job, so maybe his mistakes had been ironed out by then. I do know that while guests complained about his rude treatment (as they perceived it), they never complained that he gave them incorrect information. I saw him spend hours at a time trying to help visitors with travel problems or reservation difficulties. He wasn't perky about it, but he really would do everything in his power to solve a problem.
And even though, when a mutual friend and former coworker stopped in for a visit at the Canyon (yes, Glenn's still there), Glenn claimed not to remember who I was, I still remember him fondly, with just a tinge of exasperation.Labels: friends, navel gazing
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Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Interlude
I'm strangely proud of this one:
Not that I needed this quiz to tell me any of that. Heh.Labels: fun indoors and out
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