Not exactly a ‘People Person’

typed for your pleasure on 5 February 2006, at 1.18 pm

Sdtrk: ‘Flieger’ by Death in June

I can’t remember how I discovered this particular article, but it’s something I think everyone, especially garrulous blabby extroverts, should read over.

Are introverts misunderstood? Wildly. That, it appears, is our lot in life. “It is very difficult for an extrovert to understand an introvert,” write the education experts Jill D. Burruss and Lisa Kaenzig. [..] Extroverts are easy for introverts to understand, because extroverts spend so much of their time working out who they are in voluble, and frequently inescapable, interaction with other people. They are as inscrutable as puppy dogs. But the street does not run both ways. Extroverts have little or no grasp of introversion. They assume that company, especially their own, is always welcome. They cannot imagine why someone would need to be alone; indeed, they often take umbrage at the suggestion. As often as I have tried to explain the matter to extroverts, I have never sensed that any of them really understood. They listen for a moment and then go back to barking and yipping.

It’s bizarre; sometimes I think I’m fooling myself when I say I’m an introvert, as I often enjoy spending time with my mates now and again. But just because a person has a group of friends that they like to spend time with, doesn’t necessarily define them as being an extrovert. Especially when you consider that I only spend about fourteen hours out of the week with them (the week-ends, obviously; and then, of course, not in a row). Wanting to spend time with someone is far different than wanting to live with them, or having them constantly round you at all times.

I think part of the problem with modern society is that so many people who may actually be introverts try their hardest to fall into lockstep with what popular culture dictates — ‘introverts are loners, and loners are losers’ — and in the process, they become even more miserable, as they’re trying to be something they aren’t, just for the sake of ‘fitting in’. Obviously it’s great to receive the approval and acceptance of others, but a person shouldn’t base their life round what others think of them. If it’s your mates, they’ll be perfectly alright if you don’t think exactly like they do, and if you’re not into the exact same things. If it’s some tosser off the street who thinks less of you due to you not fitting their ideal, their opinion is less than worthless, and every minute of attention paid to them is far more than they deserve.

Personally, I never understood people whose goals were to live according to what popular culture dictates. I always figured they were filling a personality-shaped void within themselves. I’d always assumed that existence was living life for your assumptions and standards, and not for anyone else’s. ‘If it harm none, do as thou wilt.’ If others mock and deride you for your introversion, simply reply, ‘You’re goddamned right I’m an introvert. At least I’ll always be associated with a better class of people.’

At any rate, be sure to read the article

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It’s Atavism! All the kids are doing it

typed for your pleasure on 19 January 2006, at 5.10 pm

Sdtrk: ‘Specialist’ by Interpol

(gleefully stolen from Penda’s Backroom)
Wow, I ended up doing a lot better than I thought. And I didn’t use any reference material at all! Thumbs up!
But I was hoping I’d rate a Brady or Sutcliffe. 😛

You Are A Sick Puppy
Congratulations! You scored 61!

You Have A Dark Soul. You Get A Kick Out Of Other Peoples Misery, You
Most Likely Have Several Books On Serial Killers On Your Shelf. ~~ You
Rate An Albert Fish ~~

My test tracked 1 variable How you compared to other people your age and gender:

free online dating free online dating
You scored higher than 83% on Killpoints

Link: The Serial Killers Test written by upstart68 on Ok Cupid, home of the 32-Type Dating Test

I do actually have several books and compendiums about serial killers currently gathering dust on my shelves — maybe it’s time to crack those spines again, for old-times’ sake. Ha, a pun!

Somewhat-yet-not-really related: Go read Tsugumi Ohba’s manga ‘Death note‘ — it’s completely mental

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Heh, watch this

typed for your pleasure on 2 January 2006, at 11.43 pm

Sdtrk: ‘Neat neat neat’ by the Damned

This is just plain embarrassing.


Holy crap, it’s ô:41? I’m late!!

As the top two vertical bars on the second-from-the-leftmost digit have suddenly vanished, it looks like now I have to buy a new watch. I’m like the White Rabbit*; I always have to have a watch on me so I either can be assured that I am indeed running late for whatever, or so I can periodically check it in order to formulate a proper excuse for taking my leave. The funny thing is is that I’ve had this watch since.. egad, it’s been since at least 1999, cos I’d bought it for my Quest job. I needed a timepiece small enough that would allow me to stretch a pair of rubber gloves across it.
No, unfortunately that job was a lot less kinky than it sounds. There was pee involved, however.

Compared to my gradeschool/highschool tour of duty, my timepiece needs are a lot simpler. In fact, up until my Quest job, I’d gone through several different versions of the calculator watch, finally reaching my peak with the first version of the CASIO Databank that stored addresses and phone numbers and the like. It’s true; I was kind of a nerd! So fuck you. But I’ll tell you this: with my last couple of watches, I was getting tired of the plastic strap it came with, so I bought this black leather affair for it, which sported one wide strap down the middle, and a narrower strap on either side, which made for a truly cyberpunk presentation, even without the silver studs that it boasted. I wore that bastard until two of the three straps gave out. I loved that watchband..

These days, however, I don’t need to store all of my sundry information into my watch, for goodness sake, that’s what I have my phone for! So a smaller watch is what I require. Anything 1) digital and 2) under $15, cos let’s be honest — spending more than $15 on a feckin’ watch is lunacy. Unless, of course, it’s one of the retro-futuristic watches sold on Tokyoflash. But sweet slow-roasted Christ, those are expensive. Not to mention complicated. And heavy. Here’s a prime example:



Morse Code by Morse
‘Tokyoflash is proud to present the first ever Morse Code watch.

The watch has 3 modes for telling the time.
Using a bulit in speaker that refracts the sound off your wrist through the solid stainless caseback it sounds out the time in Morse Code.
If thats to hard to follow, you can press a button to see the time in Morse Code on the LED display.
If that’s still too hard to decipher or your running out of time, one more press of a button you can see the time in regular digit form.

Stimulate your mind and learn to tell the time in Morse Code.

The quality is second to none with 150 grams of solid stainless, this watch is built like a Navy Seal!
With its high polish strap & mirrored lens – in bright sunlight you could even signal in Morse Code.’

JAPAN RETAIL: ¥18900 (161 USD)
TOKYOFLASH PRICE: ¥12900 (110 USD)

Looks ace, but the price is a wee bit prohibitive. Plus in comparison, by and large you’re not gonna be too concerned if anything adverse happens to a $15-or-less watch.
Getting back to my malfunctioning timepiece, frankly, I’m surprised that it’s taken as long as it has to start going out-of-order. Note that I say ‘start’, as it still basically works — it’s not as if the screen has gone out — but it just doesn’t work very well. It’s like driving a car where the left turn indicator doesn’t work. You can still drive it.. just not very well. Funnily enough, between the time I bought this one and now, I’ve actually gone through three other watches, not to mention the fact that I’ve only replaced the battery once (a couple of months ago) since purchase. Hrrm. Maybe this watch killed the other watches? I suspect foul play.

So I suppose this week, I’ll scour Target and/or Meijer half-heartedly for a new timepiece. O, the Excitement.
Upon reflection, this post reminds me of the time that I went on about buying a new electric shaver! I am dutifully continuing the legacy of being a cheap bastard

*Speaking of the White Rabbit, d’ya know what would be absolutely perfect? A digital pocketwatch. That would be the best product ever, hands down

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GIVE ME A GODDAMN BIG GULP OR I SHOOT

typed for your pleasure on 8 December 2005, at 10.44 pm

Sdtrk: ‘Et moi, et toi, et soie’ by Cléo

Heh. I’m thinking someone just managed to squeak by on their psychological tests.

Police: Officer Zaps Partner After Soda Dispute

POSTED: 7:19 am EST December 8, 2005

HAMTRAMCK, Mich. — Authorities said a police officer in Michigan used a Taser stun gun on his partner during an argument about stopping for a soft drink.

The suspect was fired after the Nov. 3 incident and is charged with assault.

Ronald Dupuis, 32, could get up to 93 days in jail if convicted.

Authorities said Dupuis asked partner Prema Graham to stop at a store for a soft drink, but she refused and instead kept driving back to headquarters.

Authorities said the partners struggled over the steering wheel, and Dupuis hit Graham’s leg with his department-issued Taser gun. She wasn’t seriously hurt.

Apart from the fact that she was tasered in the leg, of course.
At least his badge was revoked. And why only 93 days? Might as well round it off and make it a year, just to make sure. This is the sort of thing that further solidifies the idea that I’ve always held, that you really have to be a certain type of psychotic to become a police officer these days

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I’d forgotten how much I love working with people!

typed for your pleasure on 8 December 2005, at 5.21 pm

Sdtrk: ‘Your daddy’s car’ by The Divine comedy

As stated before, I don’t really plan on ever writing very much about my job on ‘Shouting etc etc’, cos it’s a hideous and dreadful position; however, yesterday’s workday stood out a bit, mainly due to its going-out-of-its-way-to-be-noticeable stupidity.

I work the first shift at a telemarketing fundraising place, which means I go in Monday – Friday, from 10am to 2pm. (Save your envy, I’m only getting paid $8 per hour.) On my shift, there are roughly 40 employees present, all doing the same bollocks I’m doing; calling churls in a couple of states, and requesting donations. Ever since Thanksgiving, though, the donations are down to a trickle, as people are obviously concentrating on buying gifts, giving to other charitable organisations and whatnot.

So over the course of the day, the two supervisors are walking up and down the aisles, loudly exhorting people to ‘speak up’ and ‘get strapped in’ and ‘knuckle down’ and other would-be motivational bullshit, but as anyone with a brain knows, all the loud talking in the world really won’t make a lick of difference, as it’s ultimately down to the person on the other end of the phone to decide whether or not they fire off a cheque or money order. Now, round the third hour of our day, our supervisor George — the fat surly one with a complete lack of a personality — goes up to the cubicles of several employees and speaks with them semi-privately. Shortly after, those employees collectively punch out and leave. It turned out that those particular employees hadn’t had a sale in a little over three hours, so they were sent home. The Fat Angel of Death merely passed by my doorway, as I had just gotten my first sale of the day fifteen minutes before then.

Now, maybe it’s just me, but does that not seem a little.. fucking stupid? Wouldn’t it make more sense to keep more employees in their seats in the hopes that they might get a donation, as opposed to having less people on the phones, and decreasing your chances? It’s the exact opposite of buying a mess of lottery tickets. That whole event struck me as being contra-productive at best, and petulant & childish at worst. Such a lovely work environment, I’m tellin’ yer.

I’d also just like to add that today, I wore my black cardigan with the HAL 9000 patch on it, and not one, but two coworkers, on two separate occasions, asked me what that patch was about. *grits teeth* Of course, in my mind, I’m screaming ‘have you never fucking seen “2001”??’ but then, I work in a place where more than a couple of people are into hip-hop. And when I say ‘more than a couple’, I mean ‘ninety-nine per cent’. Trying to explain something ‘artsy’ like ‘2001’ to these people is like.. well, I don’t want to say anything along the lines of ‘pearls before swine’, but you can’t say it doesn’t fit

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click ‘Hello?’ click ‘Hello?’ click ‘Hello?’ etc

typed for your pleasure on 21 November 2005, at 3.28 pm

Sdtrk: ‘You and I’ by Silver apples

Today was my first day at my even newer job! Yep, new job. Let me bring you up to speed on my recent attempts at ‘gainful’ employment: The job I previously had driving to and fro wasn’t really bad at all, apart from the fact that the hours were virtually non-existent. It was an on-call kind of thing, and during that time of year, there wasn’t a hell of assignments available – more often than not, it was a case of there being more drivers than tasks available. Whilst at work one day in early October, my dispatcher called me over to the side, saying ‘Just so you know, if you want to look around for another job, you can, cos we’re really not going to have a lot of work until the beginning of the year’. At first, I thought it was just me he didn’t have any work for, but as it turns out, it was across the board. My friend/coworker Dave Z was firing off resumes left and right as well, as the hours were really scarce. One day I came in, worked about an hour, sat round in the dispatcher’s office for another 45 minutes waiting for a new assignment, was told there wasn’t anything left for that day, and was sent home. Now, a two-hour workday would be feckin’ ace if it were a normal job, wherein you’d be paid for eight, but we were paid by the hours we actually worked. WOO HOO.

So! I did a bit of job-hunting, and interviewed at some place that needed outgoing callers in the daytime. They called me back a couple of days later; they told me that I was hired, but they’d let me know in a week what day to come in, as they were in the midst of getting a project from a new client. So a week went by, and I was in relatively high spirits. The bloke who interviewed me called me back while I was in line buying my laptop, saying ‘Well, the hours for the job have changed, as the new client wants us to call some days in the evening’.
‘What days?’ I asked.
‘Monday, Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday’, he replied. ‘I remember that you said you have classes, but I don’t remember what days..’
‘Monday and Tuesday eve’, I replied, cutting him off. As you suspect, I was rather pissed off at that point, especially since I had just quit my driving job the day before. He hemmed and hawed, telling me that they’d keep my name on the list, and I hung up on him.

Thankfully, two weeks ago, I was graced with an interview and a callback for my new job, which I’ve just come home from. It’s *sigh* fundraising via telephone again, but this is something that’ll be able to put fuel in my tank until I graduate. Mon – Fri, 10am to 2pm, at $8 per hour, plus commission when I get succesful sales. Err, I mean donations. It doesn’t sound like much, but 20 hours a week is a hell of a lot better than six to eight hours a month.
The office contains about 40 people, and since it’s in Southfield (a nice 15 minute drive from mine), 95% of the workers are playas and would-be gangstas. So of course I’ll fit in even less there than I usually do most places. *shrug* Our paid orientation was four hours, and it’s about as straightforward as you can get. Like I’d said, it’s something to put fuel in my tank.. It’ll be nice not being absolutely broke!

Ooh, look at what comes out at BestBuy tomorrow!

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Annoyed beyond reason and politeness

typed for your pleasure on 27 October 2005, at 2.15 pm

Sdtrk: ‘Bop scotch’ by Stereolab

AN OPEN LETTER TO MICRO$OFT

Dearest shitwicks,

I say this in all honesty, and without the slightest trace of insincerity: the lot of you need to choke down a cock, after which, you should crawl into ditches by the side of the road, and die. Tell me; if I’ve already bought a brand-new computer from a chain store that’s bundled with MS Windows, why in burning fuck does it not come with MS Office built into it? For free? I’m not talking about the ‘trial’ version, which is only good for 50 uses, I’m talking about full-usage Word, Access, Excel and PowerPoint being installed on the computer I just paid $1000 for. You know damn well people need Word at home, at the very least, and if you’re running any sort of business, I suppose the other three are useful as well. Once my classes are complete, I’ll probably never use Excel or Access ever in my life — much like algebra — but that’s irrelevant. Why are these not standard-issue programmes?

I was over at BestBuy this morning, checking on the prices for MS Office 2003 Student/Teacher Edition, as I was told by a classmate that it was only fifty bucks. Well, this just confirms that shouldn’t listen to my classmates at all, as she neglected to add a one in front of that fifty. And naturally, I was at the store with only $55. Apart from the fact that the basic, i.e. Student/Teacher version should already be in all store-bought PCs that run Windows — that is to say, all of them — if you insist on selling it separately, you really need to lower your goddamn prices. Christ in shitty knickers, $150?? For the ‘incomplete’ version?? So what all does the Professional version do that the cheaper version not do? I mean, if the Professional version is four hundred fucking dollars, there had better be a blowjob that ranks as a profound spiritual experience. Actually there should be several of them, and it doesn’t count if Bill Gate$ face is involved.

There is no reason why MS Office isn’t standard issue on PCs. There is no reason, if it’s not bundled with a computer, why it should be so horrifically expensive. No reason on earth. Bill Gate$, you need to stop being a cumguzzling profit whore for once in your life, and do what I tell you to do, you weedy little shit. Failing that, your dramatic and humourous self-immolation would be the only other thing I’d want from you.

And your money. That goes without saying.

Love,
Davecat

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