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Scenes of me not sleeping
Jan. 12th, 2005 12:22 amI read once that Jay Leno only sleeps like two or three hours a night, almost every night. I wondered how the hell he did that. Now, however, I know. I'm averaging about four or five hours. The kicker is that when I sleep more, I feel like I'm hungover. Let me qualify that. When I know I'm not hungover, I still feel hungover. But when I sleep less, I'm still tired, but not quite as much. WTF? Last week, Rob and I drank till almost midnight on a MONDAY of all days. Tuesday morning? I was fucking early cause I zipped right up and got rolling. This is not me. Is this that odd quality known as "drive"? Wild and wacky stuff.
Work is smearing me across my cubicle. There is SO much to do now. And there's only three of us, two if you factor in the utter uselessness of this other guy. It's me, Rob, and...Tyrone. Tyrone is a nice guy, really. Help desk skills? Ranked somewhere between my eighty year old grandmother and a can of compressed air. Jeebeezus, he's really bad. He hovers outside of my cubicle door, waiting for me to get off the phone, or finish talking to a user. He's pacing, faithful steno pad in hand. I'm expecting some substantial questions. For instance, right about this time in my help desk infancy, I would be looking at things of complexity. Like how to make Outlook not leave a sig on new mail, only on replies. Geek stuff. Tyrone is having trouble opening the CD tray. It's like watching a honest to god nerd with no nerd skills. It's sad, really. I keep wanting to force-feed him Jolt cola and stuff a pocket protector on him to see if I can jumpstart his techno-geek cortex.
I would complain, but I have no one to complain to. I think I know who my superior is, but you know, he's over 50 different locations. That's only for server stuff, too. If it's a network outage, or phone system failure, or desktop repair, or printer purchase, well then I'm SOL, cause those are all different people to call. Hello? If you want me to work for you then tell me who the hell I report to! Cause I want more money! And a car! A MINI. In Purple Haze. I'll forego the John Cooper Works package, cause that's just ridiculous for you to have to pay that. I'll pay for it.
In some ways, I'm like "I have no supervision." Then I'm like "I have no supervision!!!!!!!!!! Let the vestal virgins in!!!!" Fuck them. I'm going to run that place like I want. You know what they'll say? "I did it myyyyyyyyyyyyy waaaaaaay!"
I came so so so close today to blowing 150 clams on that new iPod. I'm hooked. I love this player work bought me for Christmas. It's so friggin small, I carry the thing everywhere. Sounds good and the music is almost free. The iPod Shuffle is just plain cool. Pretty shiny-shiny, I want, I want.
When was I making money? What did that feel like? If I had saved and been a frugal person...well then I wouldn't have had a kickass time. What I can remember of it kicked ass, at least.
Okay. I'm going to go be productive somewhere in the house instead of being an LJ whore.
Work is smearing me across my cubicle. There is SO much to do now. And there's only three of us, two if you factor in the utter uselessness of this other guy. It's me, Rob, and...Tyrone. Tyrone is a nice guy, really. Help desk skills? Ranked somewhere between my eighty year old grandmother and a can of compressed air. Jeebeezus, he's really bad. He hovers outside of my cubicle door, waiting for me to get off the phone, or finish talking to a user. He's pacing, faithful steno pad in hand. I'm expecting some substantial questions. For instance, right about this time in my help desk infancy, I would be looking at things of complexity. Like how to make Outlook not leave a sig on new mail, only on replies. Geek stuff. Tyrone is having trouble opening the CD tray. It's like watching a honest to god nerd with no nerd skills. It's sad, really. I keep wanting to force-feed him Jolt cola and stuff a pocket protector on him to see if I can jumpstart his techno-geek cortex.
I would complain, but I have no one to complain to. I think I know who my superior is, but you know, he's over 50 different locations. That's only for server stuff, too. If it's a network outage, or phone system failure, or desktop repair, or printer purchase, well then I'm SOL, cause those are all different people to call. Hello? If you want me to work for you then tell me who the hell I report to! Cause I want more money! And a car! A MINI. In Purple Haze. I'll forego the John Cooper Works package, cause that's just ridiculous for you to have to pay that. I'll pay for it.
In some ways, I'm like "I have no supervision." Then I'm like "I have no supervision!!!!!!!!!! Let the vestal virgins in!!!!" Fuck them. I'm going to run that place like I want. You know what they'll say? "I did it myyyyyyyyyyyyy waaaaaaay!"
I came so so so close today to blowing 150 clams on that new iPod. I'm hooked. I love this player work bought me for Christmas. It's so friggin small, I carry the thing everywhere. Sounds good and the music is almost free. The iPod Shuffle is just plain cool. Pretty shiny-shiny, I want, I want.
When was I making money? What did that feel like? If I had saved and been a frugal person...well then I wouldn't have had a kickass time. What I can remember of it kicked ass, at least.
Okay. I'm going to go be productive somewhere in the house instead of being an LJ whore.
