Yesterday, on a whim, I perused the Gigs section of Craigslist.  I found two potential gigs (short-term/single project jobs) and shot off emails to them.  One responded right away, and we quickly ferreted out that I did not yet have the skills necessary to do what he needed.  (Which was fine.  He was very polite, the whole transaction was extremely professional, and I came away proud of myself for trying.)

The second gig is still up in the air, and as I learn more about it, the more murky it seems to be.  To the point that I’m thinking of just emailing the guy and telling him I can’t do it in the timeline he wants.  (There’s irony for you. This is a non-paying gig, I’d be using it to get a site design under my belt, and the guy expects overnight turn around.)

The interesting part in all this is why things are getting murky.  In his response email to me, the guy included a link to his current site, and a copy of a grant application he was preparing.  (The latter was to be used for developing site content.) Both the email and the grant had some.. odd phrasing, the kind of thing that made me wonder if English was his first language. When I tried to call him I got his voicemail, and low and behold, English is not his first language.

The grant application also included a bibliography which cited this site three times, including an article entitled “Children of Divorce: Rapists and Other Criminals”.  Not that I would inherently turn down a job because I don’t believe in/or agree with their cause, but it definitely gave me pause.

Interesting fun fact: this guy also named his kid Nixon.  Who the hell names their kid Nixon?

Anyway, after some serious thought, I think I’m turning down the job.

• It’s an unpaid gig with a super tight deadline.
• It involves writing the web content, something I’m not sure I can do with a straight face.
• There’s a language barrier.
• I can’t get the guy to return my calls and emails in a timely fashion.
• The guy named his kid Nixon.

I think it’s safe to say: I’m out.

I finally got a new ATM card, as well as a refund from my bank for the European porn, but I haven’t received my new ATM code, so I can use it as a credit card, but can’t make deposits or withdrawals. Oops.

I waited to hear about the job, didn’t even get a phone interview. Oops.

I’m still waiting to hear about prop 8, but I guess I’m feeling more resigned. I alternate between anxious and hopeful. Except now I don’t even do that these days. I think I’m a little bit numb.

I’m glad tomorrow is the end of waiting about this election. I hope I feel the same way at the end of the day tomorrow.

The labels for work finally arrived. I remember now, I hate MS Word’s mail merge.

I waited long enough to finish one pattern, “Shut your whore mouth”. I then promptly started a new project, but it wasn’t even the one I wanted to start. But there was a reason: much like my beloved “whore bag cum dumpster” project, this is an ode to rage. I drove through a yes on prop 8 rally and promptly lost my mind: the project I’ve been working on for the last week is an Americana sampler that has had the phrase “Sweet Land of Liberty” replaced with “Gaping Assholes Inside!”.

What can I say, it seemed appropriate at the time. And it’s helped with the rage.

Life is in a holding pattern right now.

I can’t really shop for anything 1) because I’m broke, and 2) because I had to cancel my atm card because someone bought European subscription porn with it. (Read: someone other than me. If I have to pay for it, I want access to the account.)

I am losing my mind about proposition 8, which is the one that will determine if my girlfriend and I get to get married next year. I already chose not to do it this year, a decision that may give me an ulcer over the next two weeks.

I am still waiting to hear from the Monterey Bay Aquarium about whether or not I got an interview. See above statement about ulcers.

I am waiting at work for labels so I can finish the project from hell which we’ve been trying to get out the door for several months now. Blah.

I am waiting to start any new cross stitch/embroidery patterns until I finish any 2 of the projects I’m currently working on. It doesn’t even have to be the big projects. I have two I can knock out with about 15 minutes of work on each of them.

I also believe I understand why people sell their work. I didn’t used to, I always assumed that if you put that much effort into it, why would you give it away? But thinking about switching jobs suddenly made the light dawn: without the Bitch Scientist, “Fucking Cunt”, “Shut your whore mouth” and “Whore bag cum dumpster” would simply be funny, with no intrinsic meaning for me. I started thinking about what I’d do with them. Give them away? Perhaps. My coworker or my boss might be worthy recipients. And while I would definitely want pictures of the work, the process of making these items is really where the meaning is. Having a cross stitch on your desk that says “Fucking Cunt” is funny, but the process of making “Fucking Cunt” was the meaningful, or at least slightly cathartic part.

Of course, to sell something, I’d have to finish something. Damn.

… my step mother’s 5xth birthday.

55th? 56th? One of the two I believe. It was also the day of her second locally anesthetized surgery in the last two weeks. (The port they put in for chemo didn’t work, so they had to replace it. Incidentally, she has her “first” chemo appointment today (assuming the new port works).)

…the day John Morgan was born.

That would be my boss’ second child. Very cool, we’re all very happy for him. I got to see an awesome picture of my boss’ daughter (she’s 3) “holding” (with help) her brother. She looked very pleased with her new toy

…the day of the all hands meeting.

That did not prove to be a positive experience for anyone. It’s the first time I’ve seen a speaker not applauded at the end of their presentation. Of course, she just explained how much our benefits are going to cost us next year. I think the straw that broke the camels back was finding out that the Nurses Union was going to continue to get free benefits for the next two years.

… also the annual safety training.

It occurred immediately following the meeting. The presenter was HORRIBLE. Hint: chances are, the members of 2-3 dozen independent research labs aren’t going to give a shit about being broken into “teams” for some arbitrary competition. Also, if you expect us to be tested on this stuff afterward, you might want to bother to show the slides that actually explain the concept in question.

I know, I just asked for a slide show. This should convey HOW BAD that training was.

My boss missed both the meeting and the training because his wife was in labor. She gave birth round about the time the training from hell ended. If I’d been thinking, instead of telling people where my boss was, I could have given him an awesome gift, and faked his presence at the safety training. It would have been easy to do, and would have spared him the video when he gets back. Oops.

…the first time I saw Maki shed.

Chameleon’s shed in patches rather than all in one piece, and their skin feels like heavy printer paper when you touch it. It’s neat.

…when I started re-reading Microserfs for the first time in at least 5 years.

The book starts in the year 1993. It’s an absolutely facinating read: Coupland’s characters spent a lot of time wondering about the future (among other things). It’s awesome (literally) to read about this after having lived through it here in the Bay Area.

And amazingly enough, while certain details seem slightly dated, the book holds up amazingly well.

Wikipedia mentions Coupland’s book J-Pod as the Google generations version of Microserfs. What does it say about me that I feel Microserfs was definitely the better of the two books, and I identified with it more?

…And I feel fine.

I do. The finance guy who has an office next door to me seems pretty shaken up/stunned, and the Bitch Scientist keeps whining about her finance/investment club that lost money, and I don’t quite dare look at one of my current mutual fund statements, but still, shit happens.

Honestly. I understand the finance guy seeming more than a bit shaken up about the whole thing. I assume he has some far deeper understanding of why our whole country is about to go to hell in a hand basket.

But Bitch Scientist can just shove her head up her ass where it belongs. Yes, sadly, your investment money is now either gone, or has paid for some very pretty pieces of toilet paper: please note that this is true for a hell of a lot of us, and could you just shut the fuck up?

Thanks. We appreciate it.

My nurse is a dumbass Apparently he missed the part of my chart that says “Coumadin”, & dropped a huge, open IV needle straight into my best blood draw vein. Blood started pouring down my arm, leaked down onto my gown, and off my knee onto the floor. The nurse turned turned pale. Watching his reaction made it funny.

Originally uploaded by Valued Sony Customer

Two days ago, Rita and I ducked out for coffee, I ran into the Bitch Scientist while getting said coffee, and we all came back to work to discover that the hospital had laid off 84 people. (For those not in the know, I work in the research institute, and am not part of the general hospital staff.)

Rita noticed that when I saw the Bitch Scientist, I tensed up. Drastically.

What can I say, I was caught off guard. I didn’t expect to see her there.

Anyway, Tuesday was a wee bit stressful.

At about 6 PM, Admin finally let us know that there was an all staff meeting at 8:30 Thursday morning. This would be considered an “ungodly hour” here at the research institute, where people are pretty much allowed to keep whatever hours they want as long as they get their work done.

We’ll get back to the meeting.

Flash forward to yesterday: life around here has been a wee bit stressful, financially things are a little strained at home, and the Bitch scientist and interns have made work a bit more high demand than usual. I’m paranoid about my health, the problems with my meds, and maintaining my weight loss. (I’m currently in the maintenance portion of the program, and apparently I’m not great at it.) So when I walked into fat camp, paranoid that I was going to have gained weight again, I was more than just a little stressed. I was late, and didn’t get weighed in at the beginning, but instead got shuffled off to group therapy. I sat down, and instantly experienced something I could only describe as a blood pressure spike.

I promptly excused myself, and asked to see the nurse to get my blood pressure taken. I’ve had this happen before, but I’ve never been in a place where I could actually check what my blood pressure was.

And apparently I still wasn’t in a place where I could check it. I was promptly asked to have a seat and wait. For about 15 minutes. By the time the nurse saw me, I’d quit having the symptoms, and was just stressed and concerned. She checked my blood pressure which WAS 20 points higher than normal for me, but my blood pressure is so low from the blood thinners that every says the number is just fine. I asked her if I should go to emergency. She told me that I didn’t need to.

For those of you who’ve heard the rant about last October, yes, this is the same nurse who said I didn’t need to go to emergency last time as well. (For those of you who haven’t heard the rant, last time I ignored her advice & went to emergency, I was checked in for a 4 night hospital stay when they found the half dozen blood clots hanging out around my lungs.)

Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, ignoring the nurse. When I got out of fat camp (turns out I lost weight this week) I went down to my car, but I could still feel the tension/pressure in my neck & head, and I wasn’t sure what to do. Several semi-hysterical phone calls later, everyone sort of agreed that it would be better for me to go for no reason than be wrong.

Except for my dumbass nurse, the trip was uneventful. I had my first CT scan. I have a picture of my brain and brain stem at home. (If I get a chance, I’ll scan them.) The doctor couldn’t find a damn thing wrong with me.

The assumption is it’s probably stress. Which I have now confirmed.

That brings us back to this morning’s meeting. They talked about what happened at the hospital. They talked about why the current California state budget crisis is at the heart of the issue. (Short version: there’s a shortage of about $10 million a month because Medi-Cal is all jacked up. In that context I can’t believe they ONLY laid 84 people off.) They also how the hospital’s indecision about it where it wants to go in the long term has hindered relationships both for the hospital and the research institute… it was a stressful meeting. Things are not okay. Being grant funded, the first round of cuts for us is tiny, which is good. The problem is that they’re looking at a tremendous cut in grants next year because the available amount of NIH funding has gone down.

In other words, it was the kind of meeting you want to drown the memory of in a bottle of alcohol ASAP.

I spent the whole meeting with a re-surge of pressure in my neck, my head, and, now that I’m looking for it, slightly blurred vision. All the same symptoms I had last night. I had an anxiety attack.

Last night I spent $50 and 4 hours in the emergency room for an anxiety attack.

Dumbass.

After several weeks of unpacking, testing of new equipment, visiting department meetings for other labs, and other such work joys, we finally did honest to god lab work today. I’ve almost missed it. We also got one machine to let us upload it’s new program, so we can test it and use it. We’re very close to being an operating lab. This means less dicking around time, but at least everything will be sort of exciting and new for a while.

One of the things we’ve learned about in the last couple of days is a huge presentation in May, which none of the principle investigators are allowed to present at. This is to allow Staff Scientists (my boss) and Research Techs (me) to be able to present about research they’re working on. I knew my boss was interested as he kept asking about it. What I didn’t know was that he was actually submitting 2 abstracts for the May project Event.

What my boss didn’t know was that people are only allowed to submit one abstract.

Apparently he was going to try and talk me into doing the presentation on one of the submissions anyway, he was going to surprise me with it if it got accepted. But that plan got foiled as he needed me to be listed as the presenter just to submit the abstract, and he didn’t want to possibly lock me into that without my agreement. (With the surprise, if I had refused, he just would have done two presentations.)

I’m stoked, if a bit uncomfortable that I’m listed as author on an abstract I didn’t write. On the other hand, it *is* a project I have done all the lab work for. And when I interviewed at Roche, one of the things I was promised was that I would get a chance to publish. That hasn’t materialized yet, but then again, we haven’t finished the project I was hired for yet either.

Three years ago, when I was looking for a job, one of the listings I wanted to apply for would only accept curricula vitae. I didn’t have one, and I really didn’t have a god damn thing to put on one.

If this abstract gets accepted, I will have an entry for a curricula vitae.

Apparently, not only have I moved from Roche to CHORI, I have, apparently, moved from a cog lab tech to a research tech in a pure research institution.

I am not foolish enough to think this is going to change my job on the day to day level or anything… but I have to admit, for the first time in my (dare I say it?) career, I feel like, well, a scientist.

Even if I am still just a research technician.

I’m supposed to be doing something today, but I have no ambition. My boss doesn’t seem to either. (At least we’re well matched.) I gave up my rights to use most of my major bits of equipment today (I misread an email and thought I’d be spending a whole day in planning meetings again), so I guess I’ll work on getting caught up on my lab notebook. Sitting at my desk and doing massive amounts of cutting and pasting sounds more like kindergarten than work, and that seems rather appealing.

Funny. Last night my girlfriend said she was feeling antsy, waiting to hear if we get to move into the house we want to rent. At the time I had patience. Now I find her restlessness has transfered to me: I’ve no interest in work, or the work move, and just want to know if we got the place as well.

Addendum: My interest in the work move just got piqued. Best opening line for an email about a meeting I didn’t give a fuck about EVER:

It seems that I have overstepped my bounds in organizing this meeting.

You couldn’t keep me away from the follow up meeting to this email if my life depended on it. Will it be long? Yes. Will it probably be boring? Yes. Will there be people behaving badly at times and territorial pissing matches? Fuck yes. Will there be open Wi-Fi while it occurs? Yes.

Portable Internet Device: $200
Open Wi-Fi: Free
Spending an afternoon being paid to alternate between discretely surfing the web and watching people behaving badly: Priceless

So once again, LAN season has rolled around. Everyone is play Team Fortress 2, but I’m tired and not focusing, so instead I checked my backlog of blogs. Ici is still updating damn near daily, which reminds me that my own blog could use some love. But I never quite know what to say.

Which is silly. There’s shitloads of things going on in my life right now.

The brief run down would be:

• LAN party weekend!
• I’ve lost 100 lbs now.
• Work is moving Feb 15th.
• My girlfriend and I are looking to move to Oakland.
• I’ve taken up embroidery.
• I did genetic typing on my aunts and they have some uber-rare allele that seems to be Portuguese in origin.
• I have turned into a Coach whore, and bought another used, leather Coach bag as a reward for 100 lbs.
• I spent all day photo copying the labels from the Happy Mutant Handbook onto sticker paper, and labeled random items in the sample prep lab accordingly. (my favourite would be where I labeled a box of 100 vials of blood with a sticker that said “contents may have expired during shipping”.)
• The cops raided a house at the end of the street, guns drawn and everything. Ah, life in Pittsburg!

So that’s what going on in my life.

Oh, and who knew embroidery could be subversive? I’ll get ambitious and post pics later.

So today I walked into work, refilled my water bottle, sat down at my desk, read the second email in my in box, ran out of my office and spent the entire rest of the day in moving planning meetings.

I’ll be spending tomorrow in much the same way.

On the plus side, turns out my $25 bag o’ joy from Buffalo Exchange is an honest-to-god $400 Coach briefcase from the 90s.

Who knew?