Wednesday, November 29, 2006

I'm not saying I'm funny...

...but when I am funny, this is the kind of funny I am:
the Wit
(61% dark, 23% spontaneous, 15% vulgar)

your humor style:
CLEAN | COMPLEX | DARK

You like things edgy, subtle, and smart. I guess that means you're probably an intellectual, but don't take that to mean pretentious. You realize 'dumb' can be witty--after all isn't that the Simpsons' philosophy?--but rudeness for its own sake, 'gross-out' humor and most other things found in a fraternity leave you totally flat.

I guess you just have a more cerebral approach than most. You have the perfect mindset for a joke writer or staff writer.

Your sense of humor takes the most thought to appreciate, but it's also the best, in my opinion.

You probably loved the Office. If you don't know what I'm talking about, check it out here: http://www.bbc.co.uk/comedy/theoffice/.

PEOPLE LIKE YOU: Jon Stewart - Woody Allen - Ricky Gervais

The 3-Variable Funny Test!

So...Yeah. I got that going for me!

Tuesday, November 21, 2006

And then Brad Pitt says "Do you know you're insane?"

I will give $500 to anyone who names the movie quoted in that title.*

So, I was sitting around in the apartment tonight, and I had this sudden moment where I imagined someone asking me what I was doing at precisely that moment. I answered:
I'm sitting around in the dark, watching a copy of The Wall I downloaded off Limewire.
Jesus Christ! What am I? Fifteen years old?

I mean...shit! I'm not even on drugs!

* It's Se7en. And I'm totally lying about the $500 prize.

Monday, November 20, 2006

Come on, already!

So...I called MCG's HR department to get final word concerning this jobby thing. First, I talked to one person in "Employment" who put me through to another person in "Classification" (and what the hell does that mean?) who took my name and number and told me she'd call me once she'd talked to someone over in "Employment" about the position.

Normally, if I was getting this kind of runaround in a customer service situation, I'd've gotten very pissed. Since I want this job, I was unfailingly polite. But, Jeebus, Marv and Joanna, people! Let me off the damn hook one way or another, would you?

Sunday, November 19, 2006

Boredom

I got very bored at work yesterday and took a bunch of pictures with my phone. Most of them are details of various objects, although there are a few attempts at photographing images on high-definition TVs that turned out surprisingly well. They're all pretty much a waste of time. But I honestly had nothing better to do while I was taking them.

Friday, November 17, 2006

A living, some dreams and a death

Well, it's been two weeks since my interview at MCG and I've heard no word. In the interview itself, I was warned that it might take as long as two weeks for a decision; I'm assuming that decision has been made and that I can expect a politely-worded letter or email thanking me for my interview but informing me that a "more suitable" candidate has been accepted. Don't get me wrong, I'm going to follow up through the HR department just to force somebody to say that I didn't get the job. But it seems clear to me that this is a done deal.

And remember where I said in my last post that "I'm trying not to get too worked up about it"? Yeah, well, I did get worked up about it. The situation was so nice (a good job, with a good salary and excellent benefits, in an area I know well and where I have good friends and would still remain close to my family) that I just couldn't help but extrapolate on it. By the time last Monday rolled around I'd paid off my medical bills; was on top of all my student loan payments; was dating a pretty, divorced nursing student; and was putting in a bid for a small A-frame on a quiet Aiken cul-de-sac.

In reality, I was in such a frenzy of doubt that I emailed Kate to tell her that I didn't think I was getting the job. I also pretty much begged her to write me a return email reassuring me that I wasn't completely useless, which she kindly (and sincerely) did. That worked as a total mood reset and, by Monday night, I found myself drifting into my regularly scheduled fantasy. That, by the way, is the one where, somehow, I receive millions of dollars, move back to Milwaukee, buy the penthouse of the Blatz, convert one of the rooms into a "creative space" lined with Macs which allow me to scan and design and write and record music at will, then proceed to visit all my friends and family for a few weeks before taking off on a vacation to Australia, with a side-jaunt to Antarctica.

I'm not sure which fantasy is worse: the one so far removed from real life that there's no hope of it ever happening, or the one that's so close I can smell the pine trees from its back deck. Probably not best to dwell on it, honestly.

Tuesday and Wednesday were exceptionally weird days for me as well. On Tuesday I woke up with a fragment of dream so unusually clear in my mind that I couldn't stop thinking about it. In the dream there was a woman locked in a trunk. The trunk had a padded lid and was sarcophagus sized. She could breathe in the trunk, but she couldn't hear or see or smell or feel...total sensory deprivation. I had to find her and free her. My only companion in this task was a fanged mountain gorilla dressed as a priest. And I don't mean like Father Joe at the local Catholic school, either: this gorilla had the full, flowing, black cassock and a huge, dark-wood rosary in addition to his clerical collar. But he didn't walk around like a priest wearing a gorilla mask: he moved like a gorilla, in that hunched-over, knuckles-and-toes, loping-simian gait. And he was huge. And angry. And did I mention he had fangs?

Anyway, I found where the woman was being held and we managed to get the trunk open: the gorilla/priest busted the lock and shoved the padded lid off and on to the floor. Then, of course, I woke up before we could actually get the woman freed.

Now, look, I'm no fool: I don't put much stock in dreams and I know that a gorilla dressed like a priest is just a damn silly thing to dream about. But it's rare for me to remember my dreams at all. And the implications of a priest who is also a gorilla? Well, they're disturbing. Especially to think that it's running around in my head.

Then, on Wednesday afternoon, while I was catching up on all the blogs I hadn't read whilst wooing my imaginary nursing student, I found out that a guy I'd gone to college with had died.
DAVID LEE MCLAUGHLIN

Mr. David Lee McLaughlin, 37, of Aiken, died Tuesday, November 14, 2006.

A memorial service will be held at 2 p.m. Sunday in the Shellhouse Funeral Home Chapel, Hayne Ave. Reverend Phillip Lee will officiate. The family will receive friends following the service.
The Aiken Standard Online, Friday, November 17, 2006
Now, I'm not going to make this into something it isn't: Dave wasn't a friend of mine. We knew each other well enough to say "Hi," ask how things were going and exchange pleasantries if we both had enough time and weren't due to be someplace else. He slipped me a few free beers on occasion, and I always tipped him the full cost of the beer in gratitude. You know the kind of relationship: accquaintances, people who share friends in common but aren't friends themselves. We weren't close enough that I could write him an elegy (something Clint did very well) and I wasn't having to grapple with his death the way Ombra was, but it's darkened the rest of my week.

Mainly, I find myself thinking about the people I know who were close to Dave, people I haven't seen for at least 5 years. Because I haven't seen these folks in so long, they're strangely frozen in my memory. It's like they're all in a room somewhere—a party, a bar, a classroom—and the power's gone out. The room's gone dark and the word starts going around about a tornado warning. They're shocked, and freaked out, and there's really not much comfort available until the storm passes.

But there's something wondrous here, too, in the way that one man's life can affect so many. In reality, of course, all those people aren't in one room: they're all over the place, living their own lives, when the word of this horrible and violent accident gets to them. All of them pause and remember. Some take a longer moment to think about death in way, of necessity, we rarely can; as sudden and terrifying and inevitable and final. Some go to where the death occurred, flowing bright and fresh to this raw spot on the world. No one who knew him is unchanged.

I don't know. In the end, I think we all die alone. At least those we leave bereaved don't have to mourn us alone. Maybe there's some comfort for all of us there.

Friday, November 03, 2006

The rapture is near!

Don't forget your pets!

The Morning News | "The Kennel at the End of the World" by Federico Garduño



Been a busy couple of days here in John-land. Last Thursday I got a call from the Medical College of Georgia up in Augusta regarding a graphic designer position I'd applied for. "We're interviewing on November 2," says the voice on the phone. "Would you be interested in the position?"

"I'm fascinated with the position," I replied. "What time should I be there?"

"Well," says the voice, "we're only interviewing on the second, and you're the first person we've called, so we're pretty much open. When would be good for you?"

"Earlier," I replied, certain parts of my brain which deal with the reality of situations coming out of their stunned state. "As early as possible would be best for me."

"How's nine, then?"

"Nine is perfect! Just tell me where I need to be at 9 a.m. on the second and I'll be there!"

So the voice gives me a place to be, some cursory directions and wishes me a good day. I thanked him, breathlessly, and got the heck off the phone quick because, at that point, the part of my brain which deals with the reality of situations was screaming at me about several urgent difficulties with this particular situation:
  1. I already have a job, albeit one I hate, and I don't know if I'm scheduled to work on November 2;
  2. I have no money for a place to stay in Augusta;
  3. I have no money for gas to get there!
Despite these factors, I have agreed to be there and interview! Am I that desperate for a good job that I have completely ignored the reality of my situation and agreed to something which may be impossible? Am I mad?

The answer to the first question: an emphatic, shout-it-to-the-heavens-replete-with-all-the-emphasis-tags-I-can-bring-to-bear YES!

The answer to the second question remained to be seen. Fueled by my desperation I leaped into action!
  1. A quick check of my schedule revealed that, not only was I scheduled at 5 p.m. on November 2, I was also off on both October 31 and November 1. A quick request at my current job and I swapped shifts with my boss on October 30 so that I got off at 5 p.m.—I now had plenty of time to get to Augusta and back!
  2. A quick email to my friend Kate in Aiken (who threatened me with a beating if I didn't apply for the job in the first place) and I am welcome to stay in her and her husband Chris's home—I was now lodged, comfortably and amongst excellent company, within 30 miles of Augusta!
  3. A quick phone call to my Dad (who encouraged me to go after this job with claws out and teeth bared because MCG is one of the best employers in Augusta, if not all of Georgia itself) and he generously agreed to send me $100 for gas—I was now able to travel without bouncing my rent check!
So the answer to the question "Was I mad?" is emphatically answered: NO! To the contrary, I am loved!

Okay, that may be a bit melodramatic, I know. But I feel loved. Not because of the material value of the generosity shown to me, but for the generosity itself. Thank you Dad, Chris & Kate for making it possible for me to pursue a good job in a place where I'm comfortable, close to all my family and already have excellent friends. What you did for me means a lot. I appreciate it much more than I can make clear here.

How did the interview itself go? Well…it was awful. They laughed at me and told me to go back to retail, as I wasn't fit to be a graphic designer at Kinko's, much less at MCG….

Hah! Fooled you! The interview went splendidly. I feel very good about it and I think I've got an excellent chance of getting the job. I'm trying not to get too worked up about it, though. I've done all I can and it's out of my hands.

(However, if y'all want to keep your fingers crossed for me, I'd really appreciate it.)

No matter what, whether I get the job or not, I have to admit that I feel better about myself than I have in a long time. I'm going to take that positivity and do everything I can with it.

I'm grateful to everybody who's helped me to feel this way, too. Thank you all so much.