Have fun storming the castle!

So...The Alchemist is going to be a pretty quiet place for the next week or so.  Not that you guys will notice the difference, but whatever.  I'm going on vacation, and I'm going to a place where there is no internet.

 

No, seriously, I'll be in the Middle Ages for the next 8 days or so.

 

I am about to embark on the single nerdiest thing I have ever done.  I am attending the Pennsic War.  In brief: a massive (read: 10,000 people...that's a LOT of geeks!) event thrown by the Society for Creative Anachronism (motto: "The Middle Ages as they SHOULD have been!"), at which people walk around in very silly costumes, learn trades such as knife and axe throwing, leatherwork, and archery, play music, and drink a lot.  It's basically summer camp for grownups in funny clothes - my brother and his girlfriend go every year.  Oh, and there's apparently a rather impressive field battle that will be staged at some point.  I'm still a little unsure if I will actually adopt a full-blown persona for the week, but if I do, I'm thinking it'll be some sort of saucy gypsy peasant type...so far, the name I like is Aishe Petulengro - Aishe means "alive" (Damara, which means "bitter" is also tempting, but I love saying Aishe with a mysteriously ambiguous accent) and Petulengro is apparently the Gypsy equivalent of Smith (the closest I could come to my real last name).  I'm hoping to maybe learn a little quarterstaff...brush up on my bellydancing...learn to pick pockets when I inevitably run out of money...and, most importantly, not HAVE to do anything for a whole week.

 

So now you understand why I have recently taken up tunic manufacture.

 

There's going to be a lot of downtime, I'm told, so I'm taking my fiddle and some new music to learn, as well as lots of books and a journal.  So if I play my cards right, I'll be blogging while I'm there, it just won't get posted until I can transcribe it into this new-fangled device.  And yes, there will be pictures.  Possibly even a few of Aishe.

 

I raise my mug of mead to you all, and will see you when I am no longer lost in time.

Tunic Tuesday

The pile of fabric was successfully converted into a tunic-shaped pile of fabric, and eventually an actual tunic.  Just thought you all would want to know the latest.

 

Am I being cryptic enough yet?  Are you people DYING to know why I am suddenly making tunic-type things?  Golly, I hope so.

Happiness is...

Coming home to a freshly vacuumed apartment and cold leftover chili chicken from the Hakka restaurant down the street in the fridge. 

 

I should get a cleaning lady so I can feel like this more often.

 

Unfortunately, that freshly laundered fabric that is patiently waiting to be turned into a tunic is still mocking me.  More on that later.

 

Many...many things I want to write about, but it is late and it's a school night and I already have too little to present in group meeting on Tuesday.  If I'm going to have as many interests as I do, I should really work more on my time management skills.

Like, Totally OMG!

In the interest of full disclosure: I am blogging at work.  I don't normally do this but hey, it's lunchtime, and I'm writing ABOUT work, so it's not totally egregious.

 

I had the weirdest conversation with a sales rep this morning.  He was calling me to follow up on a request I made yesterday...you know, one of those online forms where you tell them what product you're interested in and why, so that they will be prepared with the appropriate information when they call you.  I had missed his original call, then he missed my return call, so I left a message with the secretary (ahem...administrative assistant, sorry).  Now, I feel the need to mention here that I HATE the phone.  Thanks to crummy sinuses, my ears are always a little bit blocked, so I often have to ask people to repeat things.  If you throw in an accent, you can pretty much guarantee that I am only understanding about half of what you say to me on any given day.  This is why I try to accomplish as much as possible via e-mail or face-to-face, both at work and in my personal life (and why the current trend of outsourcing to call centers in India gives me panic attacks).  I find people get less frustrated at being asked to repeat themselves if they can see that you are smiling and/or genuinely trying to understand them.  This secretary (administrative assistant) was audibly Asian, which means I am guaranteed to have a hard time understanding her.  Her English is excellent, and she makes the added effort to speak very slowly and distinctly - the problem is totally in my ears, trying to decipher her accent through the phone.  So she asks if I sent some sort of request, and I said that I had sent an e-mail yesterday, asking for information about <insert name of material here>.  She said okay, she would have <name of dubious sales rep withheld> call me back as soon as he got out of whatever phone call/meeting/morning dump he was in the middle of.

 

So Sales Rep calls back in a few minutes, and I answer the phone with my usual greeting of, "Fearless Leaderlab, this is Beth..." 

"Um...I'm trying to reach Elizabeth M_...is that you?"

Dude.  I just left a message for you by the name of Beth M_... the same last name as this Elizabeth person.  Is it really that big of a leap to figure out that we are, in fact, the same person?  Surely I am not the only person out there who uses my full name on formal requests and goes informal on the phone.  I mean, if I go to a conference, my nametag says Elizabeth, but I introduce myself as Beth.  Mainly because if you call me Elizabeth, I won't know you're talking to me, as I only use my full name when I'm being formal and, well, you should all know by now that in real life there is absolutely NOTHING formal about me.

But whatever, I'm nitpicking.  I suppose it is theoretically possible that there is both an Elizabeth and a Beth at this number, and Sales Reps don't want to waste their time making a sales pitch to, say, a secretary (administrative assistant).  Fair enough.

So I guess there's a little confusion about what exactly I requested, as I told the secretary (administrative assistant) I had sent an e-mail and what came through on their end was some sort of request form or whatever.  So he says, "okay, sometimes we have some problems with...English with her.  But that's okay, her English is a lot better than my Japanese." <insert pompous, mildly racist chuckling here>  Seriously, dude, that was completely unnecessary.  Her English is just fine, it's the stupid white girl on the other end of the line that has the problem.  But I guess everyone IS a little bit racist, after all.

So whatever, we go about our conversation, where I tell him what we want to do, and he tells me which version of his product will do the best job and how much it will cost. 

Then he asks, "So...you have your doctorate then?  What exactly is your position?  You work for the university?"

"Yes, I am a postdoc."

"Oh, okay.  So I should be calling you DR. Beth then..." <insert more pompous chuckling and token compliment about how no, seriously, a Ph.D. is quite an achievement>

Actually, asshole, if we're going that route, no, you should be calling me Dr. M_.  But I just make my standard joke of, "the only people that call me Dr. M_ are my students and that's only because it's the only way they know I'm not one of them."

"You do sound young...how old are you, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I'm thirty."

"Oh!  You sound younger than that.  I have daughters that are 22 and 18, and you sound just like them.  I bet you look young, too." 

Okay, I'm sure this is just Sales Rep's guy of chatting me up and getting chummy in an effort to make the sale, but it's starting to get fucking creepy.

I've been told I sound like an actor/singer, told I sound well-educated, told I look young.  But this is a first - I've never been told I SOUND young.  In fact, most people, when trying to guess my age, tell me they think young when they see me, but after talking to me would place me closer to my real age.  Of course, most people also have enough tact not to imply that a potential customer is essentially Postdoctoral Barbie ("aww...isn't she cute?  She comes complete with bags under her eyes, bottomless cup of coffee, and clumps of hair still entwined in her little fists from finishing the last chapter of her thesis...if you squint and tilt your head just so, you can actually make out the emotional scars."  She comes in a set with Graduate Student Skipper - who carries a coffee mug filled with wine, is about 20 lbs. heavier, and when you pull the string in her back, mutters, "I'll be done in 6 months" over and over again.).

 

<shrug>

Have you ever just hung up the phone and gone, "um, what the fuck was that?"

Hmm. So there's that.

This post is more about sorting out my thoughts than about being funny/angry/whatever it is that you people come here for.  So I apologize for the interruption, and shall try to resume regularly scheduled snark as soon as possible.

So, I met the guy from Oshawa today for a couple of beers.  I don't really know what to say about it, but I figured I owed it to you people to follow up and keep you posted on any progress (or lack thereof).  I had a good time - very nice guy, genuinely funny, and smart in totally different ways than I am.  I'm always picking up on verbal and non-verbal cues that tell me that the person I'm talking to is thoroughly intimidated by what I do and my education...I didn't get any of that from him, and that is refreshing. 

So I'm trying not to think too much about it, because I don't want to overdo it.  Because it still remains to be seen whether there is any actual chemistry there...anything that will really keep me hooked.  But if I spend too much time analyzing it when he's not around, I'm bound to either talk myself into or out of something.  It's not really fair to place expectations either too high or too low, and I do that a lot.

But I think it's safe to say he kinda likes me.  Or, more accurately, like Sally Field at the Oscars, right now he likes me.  I caught That Look in his eyes a few times...the one I see people get when they're finding me charming, no matter how stoic their voice or body language may be.  Who knows what he'll think a week from now, or what I will.  But whatever happens, at least I got a rather entertaining Sunday afternoon out of it.

But man, it really sucks that he lives all the way out in Oshawa.  When you have to go to that much effort to date someone, you can't really take early dates as lightly as you should.

And this is exactly why I have to keep telling myself to stop thinking so damned much.

Blerg.

No Good Deed Goes Unpunished.

Once upon a 1:30am subway transfer...

 

There's an old(ish) guy with a grocery cart.  That should've been enough to push my "Avoid" button, but as I walk by him, he asks, "How do I get upstairs?"

 

A quick look around reveals I am the only person in the immediate vicinity, so I point to the end of the platform where there is an elevator that will take him to street level.

"You just need to go over there, and go upstairs to get out."

 

Crazy Batshit Man points at the elevator in front of him and says, "I go that way."

I, of course, am TOO STUPID TO LIVE, so I correct him.  "No, that one won't go up from here.  You need to go over there, and take the other elevator..." as I point towards the elevator in question. 

At this point, Crazy Muthafucka says, "Don't give me the finger, young lady!"

"I'm not giving you the finger, I'm trying to show you where to go..."

"You're giving me the finger."

I believe at this point, my jaw drops open and my response, reminiscent of the articulate wit for which this blog is so famous, goes something like, "ep...uh...ya..."

"Go on, young lady.  We're done."  as he shoos me toward the train.

"FINE.  We're done.  And THERE'S your finger!" as I walk away and flip him off over my shoulder as I get on the train.

Blerg.

You know what should never, ever happen? 

The Night Bus on a Tuesday.

This is what happens when your friends don't have the decency to have their birthdays fall on a Friday or Saturday like civilized people do.

Also, I apparently really enjoy guys named Ryan who have girlfriends.  Seriously - this is the third one in a year and a half that I have found myself really enjoying chatting with.  Luckily, this time I knew about the girlfriend ahead of time, so there was no disappointing revelatory moment.  There is no Ryan #4 - that's the single one. 

Apropos of Nothing

So...I haven't written in a while, due to a combination of being out of town on weekends/not noticing anything amusing enough to warrant its own post/having to actually write something for work.  But I have had a few thoughts lately that I might as well share:

 

1.  I'm apparently sassy today.  Probably the cumulative effect of the heat, the bus air conditioner dripping on me all the way to the subway, my innards keeping me up late last night, and the mildly psychotic woman in front of me in the only open line at the grocery store this morning.  I apologize to anyone who is not appreciating my sass, but personally, I am finding it fairly amusing, even if my innards aren't.

 

2.  You know what blows my mind?  Sod.  Yesterday, I left for work, and the front yard of the house next door was nothing but raked dirt.  When I came home...BAM!  Instant lawny goodness!  I grew up with parents whose lawn care regimen only extended to mowing and trimming - our grass was always patchy, weedy, prickly, and laden with above-ground tree roots from the maple and sycamore in the back yard.  Made for some seriously uncomfortable picnics (and some choice swear words when one of the ropes supporting Dad's hammock would inevitably snap), but we were okay with that.  Therefore, the idea of ANY lush, green, soft lawn, let alone one that WASN'T THERE 8 HOURS AGO just boggles my little brain.

 

3.  I am SO not cut out for this online dating thing.  I mean, you're supposed to talk to lots of people, and give them all a fair shot, and keep your options open.  I am too much of a one-man girl for that.  I start talking to someone, and I want to see where that goes before talking to someone else.  And if I'm excited about talking to one person, it's very hard for me to give someone else that started talking to me two days later a fair shake.  And it's not their fault - nowhere in my profile does it say that the quality I'm most looking for in a man is proximity.  I'm kind of a crush whore, but at any given time, I focus the majority of my crush attentions to one person.  If I have too many crushes at the same time, I can't focus on one person and end up dating no one.  I've also slowly come to the realization that, as I've gotten older and more picky...SO HAVE THE GUYS.  Who knew???  This has made me constantly paranoid that confessing my phone phobia or not having the proper platform regarding raisins will get me dropped like a hot potato.  THIS IS NOT GOOD FOR MY PSYCHE.  OR MY INNARDS.

 

4.  <RASPBERRY>

 

5.  Oh, there is one person I've actually progressed to phone contact with.  We'll call him G, because that's actually his name.  No, seriously, that's what people call him.  Of course, when he told me this, my immediate response was, "Ever since I was a lower-case g.  But now I'm a Big G, the girls see I got the money.  Hundred dollar bills, ya'll...."  He didn't close me after the old-school hip-hop reference, so he gets mad props.  Only time will tell whether he is lower-case or capital...especially since I probably won't actually see him face-to-face until late next week.  (He actually said, "I'd ask if you wanted to get together, but...I have a beard."  He's growing the beard as part of a running joke for a wedding he's going to this weekend - I have to admire that sort of dedication to comedy that only a handful of people will actually get.  It sounds like something I would do if I were capable of growing facial hair.)  So...we'll see.  I've also gotten as far as open communication with another guy from Oshawa (which is about a half an hour away from my house, and in the wrong direction) that seems odd and fun...but I'm not sure how well I can juggle commuting to both work AND my social life.  Chances are, that one won't go anywhere, but who knows...maybe he'll find me charming enough that even high gas prices won't keep him from me.  I've had stalkers travel farther than that before.

 

6.  By the way, here's one of the reasons I haven't been posting much lately:
 

That's where I was over the Canada Day weekend.  My new digital camera has a stitch assist feature, so I was playing with it to do a panoramic shot on a particularly pretty evening in northern Wisconsin.  The stitch is pretty lousy, but hell, I was on a wobbly dock, with no tripod, and the software was free.  You'll never see me turning into one of those Photoshop geeks - I would just always opt for being out taking pictures over sitting at a computer, manipulating them to make them perfect.  I am totally in love with my new camera, though, and since it doesn't eat batteries in two shots like my old digital P&S did, you can expect to see a lot more illustrated posts.  I think we can all agree that that's martha.  And in case you're wondering, that's my cousin's wife and yes, she's making that face intentionally.

 

7.  If you can't trust Mr. Noodles, who can you trust?  I opened up a package of ramen noodles last night, and NO SEASONING PACKET.  Good thing I had bought a case, and thus had a backup plan.  But now I have a block of raw, unflavored noodles that I can't do a thing with...that's like $0.20 down the drain!  Am now suspecting Mr. Noodles of skimming bouillon off the top....brown-collar crime, perhaps?