27 May 4705 - Risque Management
In French, "cul" means "bottom." The English phrase cul de sac comes
from French meaning "bottom of the bag." It bears a curious similarity to their
pronunciation of the letter q.
Maybe I went a little far with the graphic and all, or maybe I should have left
comment room on the last one. Anyway, you can get another taste of the graphic
if you go here. I've updated the journal to point correctly.
Its times like this that my mind breathes out. I've taken a lot in this week. I
counted to five. Maybe I shall make it ten, although I shall not repeat the
ritual. You have to keep people guessing if you're to remain mysterious. And as
the world's greatest lover, mysterious is my middle name (bonus points if anyone
can link "Jesse" to "mysterious" with a sensical sentence).
And what do I mean breathe out?
Even during relative downtime I take in a lot of information, and without a
literal journal upon which to spill forth or a cadre of confidants at my call
(but not beck, I didn't sign on for the beck) whether the restriction is
self-imposed or not, I have to get it all down before I either go crazy or
forget the important parts.
First and foremost, the whole Thursday = Game Night thing is simply a tradition,
and as far as I know, is not a particularly open day for anyone as opposed to
any other week day. I have a D&D game to run on Fridays, and people do just
whatever on weekends, but any other day is really up for grabs. Game Night will
remain on for the forseeable future (I remember when it stops but I'm not
telling), and for now you all get to decide whether or not Thursday is the right
night for the event. What I'm looking for is more along the lines of a firm "no"
if you have one rather than neutral-to-favorable responses in the affirmative. I
want to know who gets excluded by my timing.
The Mason Media Lab is moving into my office. The space they take up now leaves
no room for our video editing equipment, which would be hilarious to use with
them right there in the same room and their $100,000 worth of video toys. I have
been handed the sacred and hilarious task of patriating (my word) the young men
who form the talent force of the MML. Their one girl is not a member of their
little goon swarm and does not need patriation; ironic, as see is the one from
Sweden and the goons are all homegrown. The problem is that when three or more
of the goons are in the lab together, they start in with the in-jokes and
goofing off and they become incompatible with a business environment. Their
boss' boss is worried that they won't be able to socialize well with the people
they will be around all the time, and that later in life they will be at a
disadvantage when the goon swarm is inevitably disbanded. So I'm supposed to be
the one to break the ice with these guys and educate them in the human language.
I think it a suspicious choice, but then again, I am able to turn my personal
weirdness and counterculture off for the purposes of teaching these dopes how to
tuck in their shirts. What would seal the funny part in is if I could take hours
simply to make this my instructional time.
Think about it this way: I'm older than any of them, hold a degree, and work in
the service of instructing creative people how to do specific tasks. Barring the
fact that I'm a dedicated eccentric, I'm an excellent candidate for the task. I
affirm this with no ego.
Work has with it another aspect that I am still forbidden to mention or take
vengeance upon. If any of you would like to take vengeance upon me on a
full-time basis, my schedule is open.
Also I've been watching a bit much of the Venture Bros. lately. The show has a
lot of detail work done and has a lot of replay value. Also I never get tired of
watching T-rex riding, flamethrowing cowboys charge abeam polar bears riding
motorcycles with scuba-gear clad machine gunners in sidecar. That just never
gets old. Maybe because it makes so much sense. He asks her if she's a pirate!
Come on!
And for once in a long time, I can't feel anything spiritually crushing from way
out there. Most of the time, I have at least some minor crisis I could be
helping with. I have to wait to be asked. All I can do is toss it out there that
I'm a witch doctor and can fix anything from minor headaches to future
soul-shockers or spirit infestations. I cannot barge in. I must be invited.
But even when I know I'd like to barge in on other people's problems and am
waiting for the invite, I at least can understand what I would be doing. That's
vague sounding...
Most of the time, I can feel the situation arise and prepare a response if
needed. Now I don't feel anything in particular, and I take it as a good sign.
After all, I exist to be self-obsolescent. I work so that I will not be needed.
At least in the context of witch-doctoring. So its relaxing.
But weird.
Seriously, when did you all collectively stop freaking out about life?
Anyway, if will let me keep to my own problems, which tend to the mundane side
of my personal scale. The air in the house is acting up and I'll have to ask
about it later. There's a Magic event approaching that I can always be more
prepared for. The rest is spoilers.
I have one sad duty to carry out Wednesday and that will wrap it up.
Also my holiday Monday is open. Weird.
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