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Unenthused, unsurprised, unemployed.

Wednesday, I got a call from one of the temp agencies.  I’d applied for a job while I was on vacation[1], and the client wanted me in on Monday, so they were checking to see if I was still interested.  I said yes, they said excellent, there’d be no problem as long as I had an enhanced reliability security clearance, and I should be able to start on Monday.

I do have that clearance.  They said excellent, they’d just get the number from PWGSC, and all would be good.

Apparently something’s gone off with that, since I got an e-mail at 3:30 this afternoon asking me to fill out, scan, and e-mail them paperwork.  At the moment they want to see if I can start Wednesday, and I still haven’t gotten an address.  An address would be very useful.  Just saying.

I’m tired.  Tired and unhappy and at that stage where I am really worrying about whether or not I should take the job, and not sure if it’d be up to me, anyway.

Watching trailers with John and trying to improve my mood.  Knock on wood.


[1] Bless the wonders of IMAP servers; my computers are finally set up so that I can send and receive e-mail from either one and it’ll still show up on the other.  Even Sent items.  This is a vast improvement over not checking my e-mail on my laptop so that I can have it all in one place.  Now it’s all in two places.

…sometimes I think I have too many files in my life.

The nature of the beast.

Yep, more American Horror Story; thoughts which mostly revolve around the second episode, although bits of the third might creep in.  Watched them back to back.

I really think I should just give up on defining Constance and Addy.  I don’t think they’ve died–the interactions with others and the very prosaic baking scene kind of killed that theory for me–but the way Constance especially shows up inside the house at the oddest moments is seriously uncanny.  And given the end of the “Home Invasion” episode and her discussion with Tate and Moira, she pretty clearly knows what they are and is dealing with it jest fahn, as George Stark would say in a rather heavy Southern accent.

(Constance was the source of one of two “oh right, that’s what this reminds me of” moments this episode, too.  Blanche.  She’s so very much Blanche from A Streetcar Named Desire.)  And I think that’s about as far as I can get without spoilers, so ahoy the cut. Continue reading “The nature of the beast.”

Safe Haven

Watching the first season of Haven, which is a sort of small-town/X-Files crossbreed. Kirsti mentioned it, and I like talking TV shows and the like with her, and it’s certainly not the kind of thing I’d avoid. Spoilers after cut, and I should really figure out some kind of cut-off point for when to quit worrying about spoilers. First season only came out last year, but I watch older things too. Continue reading “Safe Haven”

Nerves.

It is ridiculous to get stage fright when you are going to see someone else. Still.

Off to Scottish crime authors night; details later, from keyboard rather then phone.

ETA at 1 a.m. on the 25th:

I had a lovely time.  😀  Stuart MacBride, who was the author whose name caught my attention in the first place, is very funny in pretty much exactly the way you’d expect a man who writes gritty (and/or morbidly cheerful) stories about serial killers to be.  He read the short story I just linked, too; said it was the first time he’d read it for an audience.  He signed my copies of halfhead and Flesh House, and seemed pleased to hear I’d liked halfhead.  Apparently he got a lot of grief for writing something that wasn’t in the series he’s best known for; I think that’s a serious shame, as it was a good book and a damn fun story.

Ian Rankin I had heard of and read before; Denise Mina I hadn’t.  I’m rather regretting the last, now; I would have picked up her book The End of Wasp Season if I weren’t on a strict self-imposed moratorium of Only One More Book This Year Dammit.  (There was an accident incident with a bookstore in Niagara Falls.  Oh lord, was there an incident.)

Selective perception.

Rewatched the first episode of American Horror Story as part of highly delicate TV negotiations (to wit, John’s desire to see the end of the season of The Shield is stronger than my desire to watch the next episode (now next two episodes) of AHS[1], and I’m not watching it when I have the TV alone because he’s interested in it. Continue reading “Selective perception.”

I didn’t use to believe that the past could reach cold hands out towards the living…

Dammit.  Thoughts are all over the place, and I need to be up in five hours.  Some very sketchy jottings on ghosts as handled in American Horror Story. Spoilers follow. Continue reading “I didn’t use to believe that the past could reach cold hands out towards the living…”

Tired

Didn’t get a lot done today, but it was nice to spend time with John.  Went out to dinner this evening and then picked up the cat, and it’s really great to have him back.  Unfortunately, he’s annoying the other cat, and it’s really not tenable.  She was happy without him around.  Now she’s on top of the cupboard again.  I’ve shut him in the bathroom, but it’s not exactly a long-term solution.

We can’t–it’d be miserable, giving Angus away.  And it’s not fair to Abby like this.  Maybe we can find some way to split them up in terms of which floor they’re on.  I don’t know; it’s late and I’m tired and I can tell I’m at that point where my focus is just stretching out and nothing is getting done.  Meant to go to bed a couple of hours ago, and then we smelt smoke, and that is just not a relaxing event.  We spent a quarter-hour trying to figure out where the hell it was coming from.  (It turned out that a giant housefly got trapped under the lightbulb of one of the lamps, and when we turned the light off, the smoke smell started really spreading.  Rather like when you blow out a scented candle, and the scent’s very strong for a bit, because the particles are wafting around spreading instead of being burnt up.)

All of this to say I’m tired.  More tomorrow; want to discuss ghosts as handled in American Horror Story.

Wan. Wan is a word that needs more love.

I was actually in bed, about ready to turn out the light, when I remembered this.

I almost didn’t get up, but… well.  I can live with missing a day (although I find it amusing and a little saddening that I started missing days when I was on vacation at home, rather than on vacation on the road).  I don’t like it, but I can live with missing a day.  But  missing two days, that just seemed like that start of the end.

Was job-hunting today.  It didn’t go very well–a lot of positions that require degrees or years of concentrated experience that I don’t have–but I found a few places to apply. I… keep feeling like I need to find some kind of focus, instead of scrabbling just to find the next job as quickly as I can.  But I always end up feeling slightly guilty and ashamed when I do that; I’ve learned to see it as something almost prissy, putting aside one job because another might be better.

I need to stop doing that.  There are a lot of jobs out there[1].  There is one day every twenty-four hours, and I should try and at least make sure I’m not doing something that grinds me down to where I’m too tired to think about what I’d like to do.  I can afford to look, at least.


[1] Theoretically.  Work with me.