Tuesday, 4 May 2010

temp duty

Ah, the qudruple birthday festivities have passed, ridiculous as they were and we are all fatter ad wiser for it :D Other than that I've re-established contact with a chick I haven't planned talking to again, but Pinky poked the spot and I suddenly felt the urge to follow my curiosity into abyss :p Mainly I stick to the philosophy: Why the fuck not.

Sold 1o2 gemmies to sis in Warcraft, earning Piček et Moi the 1o.ooo Gs needed for Artisan Flying lessons and since we are both in Nortrend, doing Qs together (I am now only 3 levels ahead left), I can't think of a better reason to purge our life-savings-accumulation of shiney things. The prices on AH are ridiculous, btw. 77 for an Amertine?! Are you joking?!

Okay, but really. Today is a wee bit different than other days. Today I am working as a temp. I know, right?!
        Haha everyone is bringing me food as if i was in prison or something. So cute :D I don't even care if I get paid anything, I'm just doing it cause it seems like fun. It's actually not all that different from my old job towards the end of my army duty, except here I needn't worry so much somebody might shoot me. The post is otherwise occupied by a lady that's not only endlessly resourceful but also very sistematic. Every single function is neatly and almost playfully marked on some post-it in my cubicle. Stuff like "Write the add down by hand and mail it; our fax sucks." :))) It's been a slow day and I'm bored after 5 hours, so I'm writing this and reading a History of Medicine, learning about paleopathology and medicohistorical procedures. My passion for bones continues beyond my passion for Dr. Temperance Brennan - though I still don't know how to write a crime novel including a forencis anthropologist that wouldn't seem like a rip-off.

I have to stay here until 2. Three journalists that work in this office come around 1o am, leave, come back at noon and leave again and maybe do some phone calls. My mum worked here since she was a graduate, but times have changed. The closest one comes to a decent story these days is reading a column or a blog. Most else is just bits of data blown way out of proportion to create shock-news. Not in the sense that one has to be able to make anything sound interesting, like being able to write a novel about a blade of grass or turning of a page or blowing my nose, but in a sense that a white van was seen driving pss the site where they found an abandoned baby carcass a week previous and because local Roma also own a white van, this is reason enough to open another anti-gypsy witch hunt, fertilized by poor taste in journalism. Dunno. I miss oldschool.

Though i notice I am a) no longer able to write by hand very much and b) totally restless because I can't roam around my appartment and do crazy stuff like dance or have an orgasm or take a nap - things I do for 15 minutes to interrupt my steady work pace before it gets monotone..