So. Where the heck have I been? It's been a busy week here, what with all the job huntin', wacky hijinks, and witnessing of traumatic bike vs. car accidents.
What the hell am I on about, you ask?
As you may know, I've bailed from the Ivory Tower. This mean I've got to discover
what color my parachute is (and where the rip cord lives) before I hit the ground broke(n). Hence: resumes. Many of them. And correspondingly few words of thesis. Bother.
Online application procedures are proving to be more annoying by far than the creation, printing, and mailing of cover letter-resume-references packets. this is an unexpected level of hell, as the last time I applied for a Real Job the internets were not yet widely used to apply, and thus had not yet overcomplicated the process -- it was as simple as sending the same three documents via email rather than in hard copy. Now one must upload the resume, then watch as the inept software attempts to extract employment and education information from it, while ignoring anything else that does not fit into these categories. And really? I think that, with the inclusion of bachelors and masters degrees on my res, it's a bit redundant to ask where I completed high school. Why would I have taken my precious time to make a pretty presentation of myself only to have your idiot machine mangle it? Not pleased. (Please note, E, that your corp.'s software is a pleasant exception to this; it did miss some of my job experience, but gave me an easy way to remedy that and didn't ask any redundant questions. If you know anyone to pass that on to, please do.)
Wacky hijinks are mostly of the E&M variety and at one point involved the wonders of laptop computers and wireless internet, and an IM that read "the message is coming from inside the house!" As always, we have a strange idea of fun, but it works for us.
The witnessing of traumatic bike accident was not at all fun. I was stopped at a light in the left lane, a pickup truck was passing me in the right turn lane, and a biker was crossing on a bikepath. bike+truck=ouch, so I slammed the car into park, dialed 911, and kept people sorted until real help arrived. Then I got back into the car with the Dad, drove away, pulled into a parking lot and had a panick attack.
The officers on scene were some of the best at scene management and general people skills that I've scene, very low-key and calming, so mad props to the St. Loius Park PD. (Those are hard to get from me, what with the Criminology degree and the too many stories of police misbehavior; this lot were GOOD, y'all.)
So, I'm still having wonky dreams about that mess, and my stomach has been off since then. Let's hope it's not a recurrance of the Summer Crud that I've had the past two summers, because I like food way too much to be unable to keep it down.
That's the State of the Turtle. G'night!
PS How could I posibly have forgotten this!?
Nothing has made me this glad to be single in quite a while. Words fail. Laughter reigns.
Confessions of a Heroine Addict
