pyat: (Default)
Data rekeying continues to be very easy yet intense and fiddly work. It's not difficult, though it requires constant concentration over stretches of hours, and I find myself in odd moods once work is done. The pay is excellent, even though it quickly became clear that it was excellent because we're doing the bureaucratic equivalent of cleaning out a septic tank.


There is absolutely no out-of-office job stress following me home. I've been sleeping like a rock. The commute is easy, as I take the 407 toll highway most of the way and drive during hours when traffic on the 403 stretch is easing. I could do this sort of thing for a long time, which sort of solidifies my concept of myself as a sort of natural filing clerk or lirbarian, born in the wrong decade.
pyat: (Default)
The job is making me feel old and angry. I'm not getting enough sleep, but that's nothing new. I think it's related to commuting. I've slept badly since 2004, when I started working at COPA. I'm feeling terribly run down and irritable. I'm being asked to do things that are not within my competencies or my interests.

(As I observed to [livejournal.com profile] sassy_fae, it's like a band of munchkins have run up to me with a Latin encyclopedia and asked me to teach them Latin. And I say, "I don't know any Latin." And then they pull out guns and say, "Yes you do!")

I am not getting rich or happy, nor making anyone else happy, particularly.

One day you'll wake up in the present day
A million generations removed from expectations
Of being who you really want to be...


Progrock lyrics are suddenly meaning a lot to me (and [livejournal.com profile] thebitterguy, it seems!) Heh. And I probably picked the absolute wrong time to re-read Keep the Aspidistra Flying.

So as you push off from the shore
Won't you turn your head once more
And make your peace with everyone
For those who choose to stay
Will live just one more day
To do the things they should have done


I've worked late two nights this week, and will work late again. I know - I don't owe them anything. But I feel an obligation, nonetheless. If they fail, it won't be because of me.
pyat: (Default)
My previous career plan involved working at my current place for another four or five years, if possible, and then collectively considering our options as a family, to either continue in technical writing, go freelance, or use my professional experience to enter an entirely new career.

I have prepared a set of revised plans.

1. Move to Shelter Valley Road and grow mangel-wurzels on a communal farm.

"Oh, the Shelter Valley Road
And the way it winds along
It's like a long-lost melody from a half-remembered song
In the end it all comes down to
Reapin' what you've sowed
In the fields along the Shelter Valley Road"

- David Newland, "The Shelter Valley Road"


Riches more than mind can picture,
Wheat and barley, oats and hay,
Clover, beans and mangel-wurzels
Shall be ours upon that day.

- Beasts of England, 4th stanza

2. Stay at Home and Read Encyclopedias.

"You may grow old and trembling in your anatomies, you may lie awake at night listening to the disorder of your veins, you may miss your only love, you may see the world about you devastated by evil lunatics, or know your honour trampled in the sewers of baser minds. There is only one thing for it then — to learn. Learn why the world wags and what wags it. That is the only thing which the mind can never exhaust, never alienate, never be tortured by, never fear or distrust, and never dream of regretting."
- T.S White, The Once and Future King

3. Go back to school and become a mycologist, or some other science that fits my particular strengths for classification and literal fact-collecting.

"In reading the old accounts one finds a strange mixture of fact and fantasy. Some are so fantastic that if they had not been accepted by other authors they would not find a place in even a most detailed historical summary. Then there comes an observation of such merit that all seems set for real progress. But these facts, even when accepted, are often misinterpreted, almost as if in a superfluity of naughtiness, and again there is confusion."
– John Ramsbottom, Mushrooms & Toadstools, 1953, p. 17

4. Stay in my basement and write Role-Playing Games for Royalties.

"Emperor Wu wished to publish a game. He consulted his advisers, asking them, How can I best accomplish this? His advisers gave their opinions, one saying, You must have a Web page, another saying, You must have plastic tokens, each answering in turn, save for Chang Lin, who remained silent. Finally the Emperor asked: Chang Lin, why won't you speak? Give us your opinion. Chang Lin replied: My only advice is to abandon this plan. If you desire a long and prosperous life, you will not publish a game. The Emperor ignored Chang Lin's advice. The following autumn he died of heartbreak."
- General Tso: The Ten Wings

5. Combination of the above.

Does anyone want to come live on my mangel-wurzel commune? I'd run RPGs, and we could have wireless, and make mulled... drinky... things...

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