Be careful what you wish for. You might get it.

My security check went through at the bank! So I'm now officially employed by CIBC. I start on Wednesday. 

And I am rapidly approaching terrified. For the first time, I'm going to be working with people who are not, you know, in the fast food industry. Not that the people who work in fast food are not very nice, but the standard of behavior seems to be set a trifle higher at the bank. For example, you have to dress up. This is a clever plot to make the uninitiated feel intimidated. Observe; it purports to let you dress yourself, but you have to wear "acceptable" clothing. (What the other women are wearing. ) My clothing style has been charitably described as eccentric, and uncharitably described as weird, ugly, sloppy, and/or freakish. *bites nails* Read; regular clothes=out. Whereas the clothing you have to wear costs more money. Which I've been spending on (a) Debt Remittance, (b) a shiny Computer, (c) Food, and (d) Movies. Also (e) Gifts. I don't have a great deal in the bank. 

Ha ha, bank. Funny bank. Oh my word I'm scared. So there's the fear of not fitting in, since I do that so incredibly well, except this time my job is somewhat dependent on it. 

And also, there's the large-ish part of me that is petrified of being stuck in this town for a year or more. "They" say that the time will pass quickly.  And if it does? Should I feel better about spending a year doing nothing that makes me marvel at the world if I don't notice the time pass? I just wake up and realize that a year has slipped by without remark? I haven't even been out of town, except for the wish trip, since April. That is rapidly approaching five months. And let my point out that I am speaking of not being outside of a town with four thousand people. The only place to go after 11 p.m. is Tim Hortons. One of the three sit-down restaurants in town shuts down due to lack of business in winter. 

I know, also, that if God wants me to get out of town he will provide a way. And the reverse is also true. So obviously I was meant to be stuck here for the last few months. But that doesn't stop me being scared. Knowing that a thing is best and wanting it to happen are two completely different things, unfortunately. You always hear about people who have lived in a town for twenty for more years, and they say "I always wanted to travel, but the opportunity never came up." What if that's me? 

Stupid fear, I know, but really hard to shake. And I also have to put in my notice at McWork, also fun. 

This is me, scared....

And far away is just somewhere you've never been...

Yes yes, I know I haven't been writing lately. That is for a rather simply reason.

Nothing of note has happened. And as riveting as my normal life of work, sleep, chores, walks and computer stuff is- it tends to get old after extensive description. 

I did have one minor epiphany though. I was talking to a friend about apathy, and then started thinking about how pervasive it is. People, especially in my generation, just don't care. We have little to no motivation to seek anything other than our own pleasure. So anything other than that which will make my life more fun NOW is somehow seen as silly. 

I think that is yet another symptom of Post-modernism. If there is no truth, there is no thing beyond one's self to become passionate about. No honour, no duty, no faith, no hope. It's the ultimate excuse for selfishness. Not only does nothing have eternal consequences, since nothing is either "right" or "wrong," the only way it can be evaluated is in how it effects one personally. Thereby, there really is no reason to care about all that stuff out there which is not obviously shaping one's life for the better or the worse. "Better" and "worse" being highly subjective terms. :D

This is the kind of thing which seems highly profound when you're wiping off tables at work. Of course, it was already probably covered in the PoMo lecture and my brain was just quivering like jelly from upcoming exams. This is where all my profound thoughts come from...

Some people say he's mad- but he's not. He's enlightened.

Today at work I proved that it is possible to punch yourself in the nose. All that is required is a box of forks, an enclosed space, a high shelf, and stupidly fast reflexes. 

Hey presto! Bleeding nose. 

It came.

 This is what happens when Fraulein and I play with shiny new computers. 

I've lost my lotus tile...

For the last few days the magnetic attraction usually exercised by any computer towards me has been strangely lacking. So if you're used to my stalking you, and you've felt neglected, I'm sorry. I truly did think of you while I was offline. Honestly. 

Any why have I been largely absent? Because the mail system hates me. It's a true story. We ordered my computer last sunday, whereupon the order was shipped in pieces from California to Memphis. *cheers* It's moving towards me! It's coming! It knows its rightful place! (see lovely map of joy)

  

(Oh, and Daddy paid extra for expedited shipping. The kind which promises it will get here within 1 to 3 days. Anyways...) From Memphis it was shipped to Calgary. That's, west. It's moving west. WEST!!!!!! I LIVE IN THE EAST!!!!! (see angsty map of pain)

Then, finally it moved east again, as is only fitting and right and proper and just.

However, in the time wasted gallivanting around in Calgary, my parcels got separated. On friday, one of them arrived. The one with my software. But my hardware is still desolate, out in the cold somewhere, unable to be used. I'm not saying my software is not wonderfully shiny and generally a thing of beauty and a joy forever, but it is bereft of its purpose. It cannot be used in the manner for which it was created. It is not able to flourish. It's not happy. 

As a result my craving for cyberspace has fallen off somewhat.

"Come on, come on, put your hand into the fire. Explain, explain..."

Due to my rather sad incoherence lately, which makes me cringe to think of, I shall try very hard to make this post contain something resembling logic. "Try" being the operative word, I am afraid. 

I commence!

I am currently wearing four shirts. Yes. Four (4). This is due to the fact that people keep giving me them. First of all, Fraulein gave me two lovely ones yesterday, designed to be layered. Therefore I decided to wear them today along with the charming brown pants Gid picked out for me. Mommy said he first found a short, printed bright green housecoat. She steered him away from that, whereupon he gravitated to a low cut pink and white striped shirt. (He is four, after all). Mommy disentangled him from that one, where he found these pants. Which are a signal success, actually. (They are soft and have cool buttons, hence his choice of them.) So I was wearing my new outfit today, when I was given a free t-shirt to wear to the Relay for Life. As it wasn't hot out, I just put the shirt on over top of my current wardrobe. One ill-fitting t-shirt over regular clothes= One volunteer uniform. Fraulein and I, in appropriate volunteer garb, were helping out with children's activities. This was made extra interesting by the fact that we were working with groups of mixed ages and sexes. I tell you, anyone who says that there is no significant difference between girls and boys is seriously deluded. Possibly on drugs. Fraulein and I, used to working with little girls, unwisely let one of the boys be "Simon" in Simon Says. As our first game. The first thing the little dervish said? 

"Simon says Armpit Fart!"

Right. Um, some people don't know how to do that. So why don't you try another one? He ponder this, and then comes up with a different command. 

"Simon says run up the ramp and come back and hit me in the face!"

Takes "cruin' for a bruisin'" to a new level, eh? By the way, I'm not honouring the child with the appellation "dervish" based solely on the Simon Says incident. There were other events. With witnesses. Anyhow, after our volunteer time was nearly over Fraulein and I were each given another t-shirt. It was even less hot then. Hence the four shirts as current outfit components. (I know I'm extra riveting today. Hush. I'm working on re-growing coherence and logic neurons.)

The birthday yesterday was lovely. Since the Relay was today, and as a result the family would be occupied most of my actual birthday day, we celebrated yesterday. We had a formal dress-up dinner. Slonner was demonstrating the twirling action of her skirt before the dinner. Mark my words, if that girl ever takes ballroom dancing she will devastate anyone within range. Totally maul the opposition, in truth. The meal was delicious, and the company was well dressed and charming. Then we opened gifts, some of which I have already mentioned. I should mention another one at this point simply because it is so very noteworthy. My parents, whom I rise up and call blessed, said that they would pay the difference in my saving and the computer I had picked out. Blessed, I tell you. 

Then we played Duck Duck Goose, as is tradition. And this time we ALL played, which was fun. There was also a scavenger hunt and musical chairs, where I, forgetting I was wearing weapons on my feet, trod rather heavily on Daddy's foot. After a particularly hotly contested game of musical chairs Daddy was in fact forced to sit out and be the judge of the scavenger hunt. Which my team lost, even though the other team had a math CORRECTION book, instead of math book. But since I am a just and merciful birthday girl, and do not misuse my awesome power, I did not raise a big fuss about this blatant deception on the part of my nefarious siblings. Also no one was listening. 

Then Frualein and I watched Stardust in the evening. All in all, a marvelous celebration. Fraulein and I have had rather a lot of movie-watching incidents lately. I'm not going to go back and count them, since I'm lazy, but I'm pretty sure it's a lot. We also watched a couple of episodes of Avatar this morning. That was amusing, since she has been rather politely and patiently tolerant of my delight in the show in the past. So today I sat down and said, "we're going to watch the first episode. The beginning of it, at least. We can stop in eight minutes or so." She is silent (implies consent! See, I did learn something from my first aid course!) and the watching commences. We get through the introduction and one half scene. She pipes up "I don't think we're going to be able to stop this!" *grins* NO, this is not gloating. It's just happiness. Right. Happiness. 

"I think you have a problem with your brain being missing."

So. My mind is currently best described as absent. I'm not sure how you can have a cold whose chief effect is to rob you of your ability to think, but I manage it. Seriously, a little while ago I was upstairs having a mild panic attack because I could NOT picture myself, either physically or in terms of personality. And then my headache warped gravity around me, the ferry came in, and I fell asleep. And now I'm better. (Yes, I know that I sound insane, but it's a good description, I tell you.)

Being *cough* ill, this week, has reminded me of an odd feature of the food service industry. Now, maybe it's different in other places, but here fast food and other cheap purveyors of energy are staffed by low-income people. Students, single mothers, and people who for whatever reason need the money. Moreover, the people who actually stick with the job for more than two weeks, at least around here, are generally hardworking folks, who are more likely to suck it up and pop some drugs than call in sick. At McDonalds it hasn't been as bad, but at Tim's I saw several of my co-workers pull a shift, despite the fact that they were literally white and shaking. The bench mark seems to be, you don't call in unless you're running a fever over 100F, you're projectile vomiting, you have a doctor's note for incapacitating injury, or your voice is completely gone. Really, even massive coughing fits can be passed over, given that most of the staff also smokes. When you put the fact of frankly ill people continuing to work together with the fact that they are working in a food service environment, you get a good explanation for why sickness passes through town with such lighting swiftness. For instance, I served 51 cars through the drive-thru on Wednesday lunch hour. Most of those cars contained three or more people. And judging by the swiftness with which this cold ran through our family, I was quite contagious. 

*wide grin* It's interesting, isn't it?

Anyhow, Fraulein and I went for a walk yesterday. We got caught in a sudden rainstorm, and then decided as we were already as wet as possible, we weren't turning back. It was a marvelous rain, actually. Not too cold, not too warm, and just a touch of wind. So we continued on to the convenience store and bought some mark-down DVDs, including The Bourne Ultimatum. We watched it last night, and it was lovely.