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Today was a mess. I left one of my purses at home - the one that had my wallet, driver's license, credit card, badge, etc, and didn't realize it until I got to work. There was a while back when I was wondering why I saw women on BART carrying 2 or 3 purses at a time in the morning, but now I don't. I bought myself a large, cute bag from KaraB, and it fits my small purse with all the mentioned necessary stuff, my lunch, 2 books and a magazine. Yes, I need 2 books to read, in case I finish the first one and need something else to start on. Anyway, today I completely forgot about my small purse, which was also carrying my iPod, so I was stuck listening to NPR again. (Also completely forgot about a meeting I was supposed to attend. Oops. Luckily, it will have no bearing on my job performance. Wondering if I will ever work in a place that is not Office Space.)
From NPR, I learned a lot of depressing things, and heard a lot of liars and scumbags justifying their stupidity and evil as somehow "patriotic" and "American".
I had no money for the MUNI train so I walked back to the BART station, where my train was late. I felt like I was on one of those Japanese bullet trains where everyone just tries to shove themselves on. I was pushed and jarred and squeezed in between a bike and a homeless man.
I had the following conversation with an apartment person:
Me: Hi, I'd like to make an appointment to check the place out.
Her: Have you driven by the place yet?
Me: No.
Her: Well, we ask that people drive by first before you request an appointment.
Me: I live in *really far East Bay suburb* and I work from Monday to Friday, so it's kind of hard for me to just drive by.
Her: We only show the apartment from Monday to Friday from 9 to 5.
Me: All right, then. Thanks, bye.
I knew that customer-service tone of voice, too, because I've used it myself. It's that tone where you just repeat what you know you have to say, flexibility and special cases like the fact that your "driving by the place" would mean an hour's drive for a two second glance be damned, because rules are rules and nothing's going to change. That's why I hung up, but I was sputtering a little afterwards. I may be wrong, but don't most people who are looking for apartments look during weekends and evenings, because they have jobs that will pay said rent? Other people I talked to seemed amenable to me checking out places during those times.
Tomorrow we're going to Marine World, and having fun with whales and dolphins. Taking my cousins, who have never been before.
Just finished Killing the Buddha, which is kind of weird. It's a collection of stories - various authors rewriting chapters of the Bible, interspersed with the two main authors, two guys who decide to travel all over the U.S. and collecting people's religious stories. They find them in strip clubs, in a pagan circle, in Southern churches, etc. I don't think there's actually a Buddha story, though.
I found it strange and compelling, but felt impatient with it. I'd gotten this book free from Bookslut (result of one of their giveaways yay!), and thought it would be totally awesome. I think the problem is that I don't know what they were trying to do with the fiction. It pulled in so many directions that I had a hard time reading the book and staying interested enough to move to the next chapter. I liked the nonfiction sections, where they talk to random people and get all their stories about how they find god and stuff like that.
Then I started reading Edgar Allan Poe and wondered if he spent most of his life wishing he was dead. He certainly seems in love with the idea.
From NPR, I learned a lot of depressing things, and heard a lot of liars and scumbags justifying their stupidity and evil as somehow "patriotic" and "American".
I had no money for the MUNI train so I walked back to the BART station, where my train was late. I felt like I was on one of those Japanese bullet trains where everyone just tries to shove themselves on. I was pushed and jarred and squeezed in between a bike and a homeless man.
I had the following conversation with an apartment person:
Me: Hi, I'd like to make an appointment to check the place out.
Her: Have you driven by the place yet?
Me: No.
Her: Well, we ask that people drive by first before you request an appointment.
Me: I live in *really far East Bay suburb* and I work from Monday to Friday, so it's kind of hard for me to just drive by.
Her: We only show the apartment from Monday to Friday from 9 to 5.
Me: All right, then. Thanks, bye.
I knew that customer-service tone of voice, too, because I've used it myself. It's that tone where you just repeat what you know you have to say, flexibility and special cases like the fact that your "driving by the place" would mean an hour's drive for a two second glance be damned, because rules are rules and nothing's going to change. That's why I hung up, but I was sputtering a little afterwards. I may be wrong, but don't most people who are looking for apartments look during weekends and evenings, because they have jobs that will pay said rent? Other people I talked to seemed amenable to me checking out places during those times.
Tomorrow we're going to Marine World, and having fun with whales and dolphins. Taking my cousins, who have never been before.
Just finished Killing the Buddha, which is kind of weird. It's a collection of stories - various authors rewriting chapters of the Bible, interspersed with the two main authors, two guys who decide to travel all over the U.S. and collecting people's religious stories. They find them in strip clubs, in a pagan circle, in Southern churches, etc. I don't think there's actually a Buddha story, though.
I found it strange and compelling, but felt impatient with it. I'd gotten this book free from Bookslut (result of one of their giveaways yay!), and thought it would be totally awesome. I think the problem is that I don't know what they were trying to do with the fiction. It pulled in so many directions that I had a hard time reading the book and staying interested enough to move to the next chapter. I liked the nonfiction sections, where they talk to random people and get all their stories about how they find god and stuff like that.
Then I started reading Edgar Allan Poe and wondered if he spent most of his life wishing he was dead. He certainly seems in love with the idea.
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