![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
That's Trisha's dog, Riki, and she likes to play in any water she can find. She's a good dog. How can I not smile at this? I thought I should share.
Jan. 9th, 2004
That's Trisha's dog, Riki, and she likes to play in any water she can find. She's a good dog. How can I not smile at this? I thought I should share.
Went out to throw away some garbage, and felt the compulsion to check my car. I keep experiencing this nagging fear that someone's going to come by and smash that window again and again and again. I'm about ready for these feelings to leave me alone. I don't like being this paranoid or worried.
I am quite overwhelmed by the generosity of my friends, and their offers to send copies of things I have lost. It really means a great deal to me, and I wish I could gather everyone in one room and serve pies.
The book on Rasputin I am currently reading was published in 2000 in England. While I acknowledge the difficulties inherrent in any translation, this translator could have used a bloody editor. The book reads like a rough draft, with awkward breaks and an extraordinary number of sentence fragments. It's like the man did a run through and never bothered to correct the sentences. While sometimes it could be acceptable to start a sentence with 'and', starting four sentences one one page that way is not acceptable. It makes reading a bit irksome at times, though it does have the feeling of something you might have filched off a desk and read in secret.
I am quite overwhelmed by the generosity of my friends, and their offers to send copies of things I have lost. It really means a great deal to me, and I wish I could gather everyone in one room and serve pies.
The book on Rasputin I am currently reading was published in 2000 in England. While I acknowledge the difficulties inherrent in any translation, this translator could have used a bloody editor. The book reads like a rough draft, with awkward breaks and an extraordinary number of sentence fragments. It's like the man did a run through and never bothered to correct the sentences. While sometimes it could be acceptable to start a sentence with 'and', starting four sentences one one page that way is not acceptable. It makes reading a bit irksome at times, though it does have the feeling of something you might have filched off a desk and read in secret.
Work only survives because of the internet
Jan. 9th, 2004 11:03 pmMy So Called Blog: NY Times magazine article on teenage bloggers, with many references to Livejournal.
I've read way too much of the Times tonight, and refreshed Drudge fourty thousand times in my quest for sustenance. My queue currently holds 11 certs. I've completed 24 tonight. Our production standards have been oh so generously lowered from 46 certs a night to 40. We're all doomed. If they give everyone warnings, they won't have to pay our end of the year bonuses. And just why the hell does the end of year bonus not materialize until the end of February? We're paying bills now.
Brett is moving to the dayshift Monday. Work will be less fun without him around. Who will sign all my stuff, or make fun of things with me now? My side of the office is quiet. No D&D tonight, we're going out to drink and celebrate Brett's fortune in moving on towards happier desks.
Lately, I dream almost always of Anna. She was only created to be a minor character in the scheme of things, but I keep finding her. I haven't figured out what her story is, other than her midnight flight in a stolen Jeep with a laptop and a briefcase. She's bitter.
Why won't they send us home? Don't they realize none of us are working, that we're all telling stories and taking illicit smoke breaks or surfing the net for something, anything better?
I've read way too much of the Times tonight, and refreshed Drudge fourty thousand times in my quest for sustenance. My queue currently holds 11 certs. I've completed 24 tonight. Our production standards have been oh so generously lowered from 46 certs a night to 40. We're all doomed. If they give everyone warnings, they won't have to pay our end of the year bonuses. And just why the hell does the end of year bonus not materialize until the end of February? We're paying bills now.
Brett is moving to the dayshift Monday. Work will be less fun without him around. Who will sign all my stuff, or make fun of things with me now? My side of the office is quiet. No D&D tonight, we're going out to drink and celebrate Brett's fortune in moving on towards happier desks.
Lately, I dream almost always of Anna. She was only created to be a minor character in the scheme of things, but I keep finding her. I haven't figured out what her story is, other than her midnight flight in a stolen Jeep with a laptop and a briefcase. She's bitter.
Why won't they send us home? Don't they realize none of us are working, that we're all telling stories and taking illicit smoke breaks or surfing the net for something, anything better?