It Could Happen!

One of the parts of my job that I really, really enjoy (and spend a disproportionate amount of my time on) is writing web polls for our company intranet. I work at a large, stuffy financial institution so I thought that on our portal we should be able to relax a bit and have a tiny bit of fun.

The questions are changed weekly, so I tend to write a month's worth at a time. I spend a few hours on the internet researching the questions and don't feel a bit guilty that I'm say on the Jetson's fan club site or the Leprechaun Watch site. It's work, dammit!

Sure, we've got about 3,000 or so employees that supposedly use the intranet and most people to ever answer a question has been 120. But still, I feel it's developed a little following of its own.
I even heard one of my questions plagiarized! I was very excited.

The guy next to me is charged with having to make sure the webcasts go off without a hitch, so he has to have them playing low while he works. This one, just for a change, was for a boring financial conference, and as usual I wasn't paying very much attention to it. People talking about financial stuff sounds a bit like Charlie Brown's teacher to me anyway. "Wah-wah-WAH, wah-wah-WAH-wah."

Suddenly some language became discernible and I heard, "...feel about reality shows? A: Love them - I've become addicted. B: Ambivalent - I'll watch them if they're on. C: Hate them - how many shows about eating bugs can there be? (quiet chuckling)" I perked up right away. "Hey! He used my question! Hey! I wrote that! Hey!"

Which means that somebody read it. And thought it was good enough to be stolen and used at a crashingly boring conference as a non-threatening ice breaker. Wow. I couldn't have been more proud if I had asked to host the Emmys.

Jon Stewart, watch your back!

Coming to the 'Net This Summer!

Whatever happened to the Battle of the Network Stars? I remember as a little kid on Saturday nights in the summer, deep into re-run season, every once in a while there would be a summer extravaganza that promised fun, excitement and a glimpse of your favourite sitcom star in short-shorts and tight adidas t-shirts bouncing around a track. Boo-ya!

Okay, sure it was lame, but it must have been nice for the cast of The Love Boat to get outside, stretch their legs, build some team dynamics, and kick the cast of Quark's ass at the three-legged race.

I wonder who the genius was behind the idea. I mean, in essence it's a company track and field day put on film. But who wouldn't want to see Gabe Kaplan, Tony Randall and Jane Curtin competing against each other in a muddy obstacle course? Nobody, that's who. It's pure television GOLD, baby!

I know it got old quickly, but I don't hold with their attempts to spruce it up. First it was Circus of the Stars, and now it's Celebrity Ballroom dancing or Celebrity Skatedancing or whatever. I tell you what I'd like to see. Celebrity Bearbaiting. Not with bears, though, with celebrities. Celebritybaiting I guess it would be called. Although, I guess to be humaine we'd have to get rid of the wild dogs as well. Oh, how about just celebrities setting on and tearing apart other celebrities? It'd be like Celebrity Fear Factor except with... huh, I guess it's just Celebrity Fear Factor. Damn.

Anyway, the idea is still a good one. Give the audience something good to watch in the midst of the seemingly endless non-new stuff. A break from the monotony of never having anything new to look at in between the vaguely amusing formulaic entertainment.

Say... that gives me an idea...

Battle of the Blog-work Stars!! Possible Blogwork Star Events:

- The 100 word dash
- The three-legged apology
- The mundane update relay
- Hyperlink long jump
- l33t5p34k obstacle course
- Comment field tug-of-war

Oh, if only I knew some blogwork stars! If only...

Radioactive Buns

(I know I said I was going to use up old posts that were lying around, but I actually wrote this today. If it helps, I didn't really edit it.)

I'm no rabid environmentalist, but it's enough with the plastic bags already. Sure they're useful, but they seem to multiply like rabbits and I find I'm overrun with them. So I try to reuse them when I can, and refuse them whenever possible. But no matter what I buy at the stores downstairs from my work -- a pack of gum, a birthday card, a single battery -- they always want to stick it in a huge, thick plastic bag. Sometimes, if the item is sensitive enough (such as shampoo) they even want to double-bag it to keep others from knowing about my shameful purchase. It's a phenomenon that continually baffles me.

Anyway, today I go down to the market to get a fresh bun to eat with my beef stew at lunchtime. I pick out my tiny dinner roll and put it in the thin plastic bun bag and go to pay for it. The nice lady rings it up for me and then proceeds to get a giant plastic bag to put my itty-bitty already-bagged bun in. I tell her quickly, "Oh, I don't need a bag." She looks at me warily, as though she doesn't believe I would turn down a free plastic bag. I try to reassure her by smiling and shaking my head. She grudgingly accepts my assertion and hands me my change. As I walk away I think, "It's not plutonium, for Christ's sake, it's a bun. It'll be FINE."

For whatever reason this little joke of mine cracks me right up. I start to giggle as I walk back to the elevators. "Plutonium. Good one. *Giggle*." People stare. I try to remember that this is the financial hub of Toronto after all, with important people in important suits marching off to important meetings that will no doubt determine the fate of me and the rest of my caste. It is unseemly for me to be giggling, and giggling by myself, no less. These are people for whom denim is still untrustworthy unless kept within the strict confines of a charity-sponsored dress-down day. They don't cotton to these kind of shenanigans. They're liable to call security, missy.

I try to maintain my composure. But the more I think about my joke, and the more I try to suppress it, the more it makes me laugh. Just like back in high school during religion class. I picture the cashier in a hazmat suit carrying the bun with Cockknocker-length arms. Also, the word "cockknocker". I decide I am no longer in high school and I finally allow myself an actual laugh. But what actually comes out is not a laugh, but a snort. Which cracks me up even more. Now I just cover my face with my hand and rush to the elevator, trying to conjure images of dead puppies and crack babies to no avail. The end.

So, um, yeah. That was today's timely post. Tomorrow it's back to the old "unedited" posts, I promise!

Confidentially Speaking

When I was a kid I watched The Neverending Story over and over and over again (we got the Movie Network on cable just when the movie was popular - that and The Last Starfighter, which I also watched to death). If I recall correctly, there's a part in it where the hero in the story has to pass between the two Sphinxes. This is perilous because he has to be believe in himself the whole time, no matter how scared he is, or the Sphinxes will see it in his heart right away and destroy him.

I never realized how important that metaphor is in real life until just a few years ago. Because in real life I've begun to realize that the thing that can undo all of my best laid plans the fastest and most completely is my own self-doubt.

Just like the Sphinxes, people can spot confidence (or the lack thereof) in a heartbeat. And, whether you want to acknowledge it or not, other people's reactions to you make a very big difference in your behaviour and feelings about yourself. Confidence breeds confidence. And, oh brother, does that work in the reverse.

Lately I've been trying very hard to be my own cheering section. I've spent a great deal of my life doubting myself and wallowing in self-pity and depression. Do you know how many times a day I say to myself "Alanis, you're such an idiot"? The answer is: a lot. And for really minor things, too. And if you never give yourself a break, how easy do you think it is to give others the benefit of the doubt? Jesus, the amount of people I've called Einstein in a sarcastic way alone...

It's really just in the last twelve years or so (out of the influence of my immediate family) that I've been able to fight this tendency even a little bit and try to be positive and have confidence in myself. But it's slow going and I've still got lots and lots of ground to cover.

I think that's why I avoid spending too much time with my family, not because I dislike them, but because they remind me so much of where I've been and how much further I still have to go. It's like looking in the fun house mirror, i.e. not that much fun and, in fact, a little disturbing.

Because one of the hardest things to do in life is to change yourself. And the older you get the harder it becomes. I just don't want to be one of those people who says, "Well, that's just me, no sense in changing now." Because it IS incumbent upon me to try and change if there's something I don't like about myself. Okay, a thousand things. And the best way to do that is to surround yourself with people who allow you to grow and who you can learn positive habits from.

And you should always take your inspiration where you can find it.

The other day inspiration came with my breakfast. I was opening a packet of Quaker Oats Instant Porridge, feeling a little broyderne, and there it was: a pithy quote just for me. "Positive thinking is something that must be practiced every day."

Man, you're telling me Quaker Oats dude. You're telling me.

Oh, and cool hat, by the way.

And When I Say "Back"...

I of course mean, "in about a month or so". Look, life gets busy. But I've finally got my desk up and in place, so maybe now I'll have more of an impetus to write because I've actually got a place to write. You dig?

What am I going to write today? Uh, I'm not sure. I've been going through some old stuff and found a few posts that I never went back to, either because I wasn't interested enough, I thought it was shite to begin with, or I wanted to go back and hone a bit, do some research on, etc. Well, since I don't have time, and a certain reader says I edit myself too much, I'm going to just go in and post some of them, warts and all. (Man, I hate warts!)

Okay, so here goes the first one. It falls into the category of "wanted to hone and research, etc." So if the character names are incorrect, or the plot of the movie I talk about is incorrect, well, you're just going to have to deal. Anyway, without further apologies, I give you "Confidentially Speaking".

Wait a minute... where'd it go? I was looking at it just last night when I was going through and deleting my old email--ah crap! I didn't delete it, did I? Oh, for the love of-- Well, it's too late in the morning to look for it now. It'll have to wait until I get back home from work, I've got to leave right now. I've got to catch that morning train... I'll work from 9 to 5 and then, I'll take another home again... to find me waiting for him. My baby takes the morning train... Crap, as if this weren't horrible enough, now that song is in my head.

Heh, but now you've got it stuck in your head, too. It'll have to do, I guess. See you later!