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Jun. 18th, 2007

2007.06.18 (ongoing daily post; updates will cease by 6pm GMT -7)

11:39

Have applied for the job. Scared me to death and I was flailing and gibbering (literally; hcolleen can testify to this) but I did it. Thank you, coffeechica and samurai_ko, for helping me out. It has been submitted, and I see that there is a group interview type meeting at 6pm on the 21st. I think I'll have to have a few words with the office, it being a holiday and all as well!

Song of the moment: "Seaport September", Latin Quarter. Pandora brought it up, and I had to Google the lyrics when I heard "He'll help you to find out / Why they put 'angst' into 'gangster'."

The Rise of the Participatory Panopticon -- pace linked to this, and it's a fascinating read. I aspire to be Simon Illyan when I grow up, seriously. I don't want to be bland like he had to be, and I don't want to be a spy. I realize I court serious problems should my backup system fail, which is one of the reasons why I continue to invest time and effort in LJ in addition to buying that permanent account. If LJ went down, I would be one seriously unhappy camper, because there's so much of me here.

12:23

I have strawberries. I have tea. These are both good.

1:12

I will need to get with Management and arrange about things. They've been expecting my imminent backscaling of time for a while now. We'll see. And how could I forget that Figment works there now? *facepalm*

1:21

I'm going to have to come out of the LJ closet at the new workplace (should I get hired), because I cited not just volunteering (which can be vouched for without identifying my LJ identity), but identifiable blogging experience as potential job skills. This is in my cover letter rather than the resumé itself, but I think two translations to Russian counts me as at the very least well-written and in the right place at the right time.

1:52

*vibrate* Eeeeeeeeeeeee. *looks around shiftily* I got plans, yo. *nibbles on some duct tape* MUENSTER, BABY. (I hope.)

Beet Pulp Safety Warning -- linked as a relative of Dogs in Elk. And of course, anything that mentions the topic of cricket release should probably link back to that classic of the genre: Lost:big box of crickets on the subway

2:17

Huh. Sweetheart Supervisor (who is known for being really sweet to those in positions of power over her, but having a short temper with those whose opinions she doesn't think matter) is back out front wanting to know if she can get her job back. Last I heard, she'd just no-showed out. This could be interesting.

3:20

Looks like she might just have been here with an applicant. Still and all.

There was salad in the break room. Yay salad!

5:05

*jitter* Still having stage fright. But, time to send off things and head out.


"Seaport September", Latin Quarter

Feel that wet concrete through the seat of your jeans
No cab-fare, just the cold air
You're a man without means.
A bank roll lighter and light years older
Someone's hand was in your pocket
While they cried on your shoulder.

Don't stare at that man in the tropic white suit, ah!
He may mop his brow but he's liable to shoot yah!
He's no Peter Lorre, he's no merry prankster,
He'll help you to find out
Why they put "angst" into "gangster".

Seaport September, a night to remember
Bad Luck is no exclusive club
They just make you a member.

Sometimes it's easy to forget where you are
When Marseilles seems just a day away
Before this Singapore bar.
Asking a Joe, does he know somewhere finer
Then a blow up and you show up
On a slower boat to China.

And a head that might be yours
Is aching on a lower bunk
Did you really set to sea
To be a sailor on this junk?


Gone away, gone ahead,
Echoes roll unanswered.
Empty, open, dusty, dead.
Why have all the Weyrfolk fled?

Where have dragons gone together
Leaving weyrs to wind and weather,
Setting herdbeasts free of tether;
Gone, our safeguards, gone, but whither?

Have they flown to some new weyr
Where cruel Threads some others fear?
Are they worlds away from here?
Why, oh why the empty weyr?

-- "The Question Song", Anne McCaffrey
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