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2001-09-20 / 6:00 p.m. ~An Extra Hour~ Everything sort of shut down at work today, about an hour and a half before quittin' time. The "print server", then our tracking program. Then the main employee database, then the phones. NO, not the PHONES! Oh yeah. Oh yeah, baby! I think I was the only one about to fly through the ceiling with springy joy-filled feet when M (Manager) came over and said, "Go home, go home, go home". Whoo hoo!, says I. This day started like crap. Wait, back up. This morning I was intent on remembering the lyrics to the theme song for "Beverly Hillbillies". Here's how far I got: "Lemme tell ya a little story 'bout a man named Jed, But.... You ask me, ol' Jed didn't have much of a mind of his own. Or maybe he was just susceptible to suggestion. Still, can't remember the synonyms for "crude oil". I could look it up...this is the Internet after all....but....nah. No drive. No energy. So, Lulu brought sweeties to work, muffins and crap, and first thing in the morning I can't eat, not unless it's sausage or something. I like the savories, prefer them, I guess. But those muffins....no, couldn't do it. But jeez Louise, the fucking vultures at work were ALL over those things. And B. from the other department, well, whatever department, but she was invited, or inserted herself or something, and look, first thing, let me log the fuck in, okay? Let me turn on things, phone, PC, me. Let me get going. The noise level, the volume increased, oh, food, oh this muffin, that bear claw, oh, chocolate chips, oh raisins, oh whatever! And B. is in my fucking cubicle, amidst a damned gaggle of gals all gurgling and scarfing food and talking with mouths full and I'm sort of disgusted, and halfway jokingly say, "Um, you're in my CUBICLE!", and get out, and can't you see the door (imaginary of course), but really I'm just giving some shit, okay? Really, it's a territory thing, and excuse me, but here is where I bring race into it.... The black folks don't respect the boundaries. They don't, sorry, but true. (NO, I'm not a racist, please read through my older entries.............) You - are - in - my - space. Move. Oh, B. freaked, started saying things to me, I don't even know what, but the last was, "GET A LIFE!", and this bothered me for the rest of the day, no kidding. Get a life. Why? Because I work in the Call Center Dept and you open mail or something, and I need to be ready to accept calls, get things going and you are so excited about a fucking free muffin you can barely contain yourself and you are standing with your butt up to my chair back and I want you to go away, but I am joking and you are not, and what the fuck? Yeah, so your cousin was in the WTC tower last week, she got out, you told me the whole sob story and didn't I stop and listen to you, offer the appropriate facial expressions of sympathy, didn't I let you get it off your chest, for the hundredth time that day, to the hundredth person, me? So my day sucked. So I decided not to talk to people, was in one of my Oh, fuck, I hate these people, moods, and I guess poor Lulu didn't get it, she just avoided me. And I think, well, these people don't understand me at all, do they? I am offended, or hurt, I react, the offender or hurter reacts to my reaction, badly, always, and that's the end of that. Silence. That is how it is. So, one of the computer guys (and why can't they keep a server up and running for more than one day at at time?) offers me some tickets to the last pre-season Thrashers game on the 29th.....and I say sure...thanks....and he's going to give them to me, I guess when things stop crashing computer-wise, but hell if that isn't the day I was considering rallying with other peace-niks in D.C. Um, well, I'm going to gauge the numbers, see how big this D.C. thing is going to be. If it's worth it I'll find my activist buds and try to hitch a ride, or see if we've got another bus going, or rent a car and head up on my own. Not sure, but it's a Saturday, it's very doable. Hmmmm...... Right, so we got to leave an hour early, and that was great. I was happy. Now I've got to scrounge up some viddles, and if I had a cement pond I'd go swimmin' in it, or at least let the critters take a dip. "Texas tea....", then what? Anyone? Bueller? (Let me just say this one more thing - gee, just one? - if Bush preempts the "Big Brother 2" finale tonight I am gonna be really pissed! All he's got to say is that we're going to kill people, and we don't know how or when, or if "he" knows, he's not going to tell us, security and all that, don'tcha know, so why talk about it? I'm sick of this whole thing, already. Man, Francine linked to a great article yesterday or the day before - if only Bush would read it - here's the link. Read it, it's really good, really long, but really good, tells us how to fight this "thing".) (Yet another entry with yet another addendum: Fuck me to tears if I'm not now panicking about the little racial observation mentioned above. Ya know? It's not PC to say shit like that, but I am the ONLY white person in my department, okay? It's all black women....and me. They are different from me. Black people and white people are like.....REALLY different. Yeah, yeah, we're all just folks, our blood turns red when oxygenated, yeah, sure, got it, but there are so many differences it's not even funny. Yesterday, here's a reverse example for you, I say to Lulu, "Listen, Missy...", blah, blah, being silly, 'cause yesterday was the silly day, right?, and she gets this look....she says, "You know black women don't like to be called 'Missy'", and I say, no, I didn't know. Thank god K. is there to say, "Hey, I say 'Missy' all the time!", and then one more says it, and one more, and Lulu suddenly looks really confused and I am so fucking thankful I wasn't once AGAIN accused of being something I am not. Jesus Fucking Christ, people are too sensitive! So, if you, whoever the fuck you are, okay?, read that, about the boundaries thing, it's an observation. Of course....no one is like me. Not even other white people. And don't get me started on Southern white people!!!) Cost of the War in Iraq
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