And yes, I know it's Sunday. So here's my post explaining that life has been quite complicated this past week.
A much longer posting will come tomorrow. Promise.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Sunday, September 21, 2008
a promise is a promise...
And I said I would update this blog every Sunday.
So here it is:
I'm tired, and I find the fact that winter is coming very discouraging.
I will try to write something a bit more upbeat sometime this week.
In other news... I find I am not terribly unique:
So here it is:
I'm tired, and I find the fact that winter is coming very discouraging.
I will try to write something a bit more upbeat sometime this week.
In other news... I find I am not terribly unique:
Sunday, September 14, 2008
mysteries
One has to wonder what was going through his parent's minds when they looked at their brand new baby boy and chose a name for him.
"Why, he looks just like a ritual form of Japanese suicide," his mother must have thought as she admired his little fingers and toes.
Why else would she have named her son Harry Carey?
No lie. I lived next door to the man for several months. He gave me a freezer full of moose meat and a fair amount of smoked salmon as well.
This is only one of life's many imponderables that I've been contemplating lately.
I've always had the bad habit of reading the last few pages of my book first. I like to know how things are going to turn out before I start to read. No reason to get attached to a character if they're just going to die or skip out halfway through the action.
I call it a 'bad habit' because that's what other people tell me it is. But secretly, I've always kind of wished I could read ahead in life, too. People always tell me that my way of reading spoils the surprise. I always say that a well written book will delight you no matter how many times you read it or how well you know the plot.
But life is not a book plot. It doesn't have a nicely crafted story arc, and as much as I would like to I can't read ahead.
--I have interviewed people who claim to be able to. But then, if you've read my other blog entries you may remember that one of those people thought I was Australian.
So what is next? That's as much of a mystery as what Harry Carey's mother was thinking, I'm afraid.
"Why, he looks just like a ritual form of Japanese suicide," his mother must have thought as she admired his little fingers and toes.
Why else would she have named her son Harry Carey?
No lie. I lived next door to the man for several months. He gave me a freezer full of moose meat and a fair amount of smoked salmon as well.
This is only one of life's many imponderables that I've been contemplating lately.
I've always had the bad habit of reading the last few pages of my book first. I like to know how things are going to turn out before I start to read. No reason to get attached to a character if they're just going to die or skip out halfway through the action.
I call it a 'bad habit' because that's what other people tell me it is. But secretly, I've always kind of wished I could read ahead in life, too. People always tell me that my way of reading spoils the surprise. I always say that a well written book will delight you no matter how many times you read it or how well you know the plot.
But life is not a book plot. It doesn't have a nicely crafted story arc, and as much as I would like to I can't read ahead.
--I have interviewed people who claim to be able to. But then, if you've read my other blog entries you may remember that one of those people thought I was Australian.
So what is next? That's as much of a mystery as what Harry Carey's mother was thinking, I'm afraid.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
back to school
Training at a call centre has proven to be amazingly like going back to school... and I don't mean high school or college. No, training is remarkably similar to my memories of elementary school. We do lots of group projects and make colourful posters with smelly markers.
We also play role playing games.
Which leads me to the subject matter of this blog.
Today, in class, we were learning about asking the client questions in order to determine what their problem is. In order to demonstrate, our instructor announced that she was going to be a patient, and one of my classmates would be a doctor.
My classmate, Jose, was the doctor.
"Hello," he said to my instructor. "What seems to be the problem?"
"Well, I have a rash," she said.
"How long have you had it?" he asked.
"About a week."
"And have you showered in that time?" he asked.
"Um... Yes."
"And do you have a boyfriend?"
Following the extremely enlightening role playing demo, Jose told us a story about how some cream the doctor gave him for a rash caused him to develop a continuous tent problem.
After that, we learned how to read a customer's bill.
We also play role playing games.
Which leads me to the subject matter of this blog.
Today, in class, we were learning about asking the client questions in order to determine what their problem is. In order to demonstrate, our instructor announced that she was going to be a patient, and one of my classmates would be a doctor.
My classmate, Jose, was the doctor.
"Hello," he said to my instructor. "What seems to be the problem?"
"Well, I have a rash," she said.
"How long have you had it?" he asked.
"About a week."
"And have you showered in that time?" he asked.
"Um... Yes."
"And do you have a boyfriend?"
Following the extremely enlightening role playing demo, Jose told us a story about how some cream the doctor gave him for a rash caused him to develop a continuous tent problem.
After that, we learned how to read a customer's bill.
Sunday, September 7, 2008
A new beginning
The other day I was mowing the lawn when a neighbour from down the street walked by. He paused, and I stopped the mower so that we could have a chat.
Having dispensed with the questions of where I had been for the past year, he complimented me on my new hairdo.
"I did it for the Relay for Life," I informed him.
"Oh," he said. "I thought it was an indication of a lifestyle choice. I love Ellen, you know."
Yes, that's right. I'm back in home sweet home, aka Riverview.
A week after my last post, I was in Digby, Nova Scotia, visiting with Mom and watching fireworks explode over another harbour.
I've taken a job at Rogers for the time-being. The pay is good, as are the benefits. The staff discounts aren't anything to sneeze at either.
In other news, I got an email from the fine gentleman who is currently possession of my second suitcase (I had to leave it in BC due to new Air Canada regulations). He informed me that he had attempted to send said suitcase home to me, but that when he got to the Greyhound station it was closed.
"Why does everything shut down at 5 in this bloody town?" he emailed me. "I even drove out to the dump, only to be greeted by a locked gate."
I am going to give Mr. Q the benefit of the doubt and assume that that final line had nothing to do with my suitcase.
Now I needs must go. I'm waitressing at my home away from home, the Silvery Moon, tonight.
*Also, please note: I will be updating my blog every Sunday for the forseeable future, barring natural disasters and acts of God.*
Having dispensed with the questions of where I had been for the past year, he complimented me on my new hairdo.
"I did it for the Relay for Life," I informed him.
"Oh," he said. "I thought it was an indication of a lifestyle choice. I love Ellen, you know."
Yes, that's right. I'm back in home sweet home, aka Riverview.
A week after my last post, I was in Digby, Nova Scotia, visiting with Mom and watching fireworks explode over another harbour.
I've taken a job at Rogers for the time-being. The pay is good, as are the benefits. The staff discounts aren't anything to sneeze at either.
In other news, I got an email from the fine gentleman who is currently possession of my second suitcase (I had to leave it in BC due to new Air Canada regulations). He informed me that he had attempted to send said suitcase home to me, but that when he got to the Greyhound station it was closed.
"Why does everything shut down at 5 in this bloody town?" he emailed me. "I even drove out to the dump, only to be greeted by a locked gate."
I am going to give Mr. Q the benefit of the doubt and assume that that final line had nothing to do with my suitcase.
Now I needs must go. I'm waitressing at my home away from home, the Silvery Moon, tonight.
*Also, please note: I will be updating my blog every Sunday for the forseeable future, barring natural disasters and acts of God.*
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