Monday, December 06, 2004
I Don't Like Mondays
I can always tell when my hair gets too long. At about the 2mm stage it starts to get kind of itchy when I lie on my pillow and feels as if the short hairs are tickling my scalp. Last night as I lay dozing off, I had such a tickle on my head. I scratched it and it stopped. It tickled again, so I scratched and it stopped again.
Then the most horrendous thing happened. I felt the tickle MOVE from the back of my head to behind my ear. I catapulted like an Action Man figure on an elastic rope out of my bed and out of semi-consciousness, frantically flapping my hands around my head to get rid of the 8-legged beastie that had infringed my slumber. I don’t know where it landed, but it took me a good few minutes to get over the feeling that it was waiting for me to return to sleep before crawling onto me with the intent of sinking its fangs into my skin.
Work was awful. No words can really describe how tedious and parochial it all is. I almost look forward to receiving my P45 or P60 – which ever comes first. The bosses are cottoning on to the fact that most of us in here and struggling to even find pretend work. I spoke to one guy who said, “I’m just fed up trying to think of reasons why I should come in here. I mean, how many times can you use the excuse of your Granny dieing in one year?”
Which is true. Eventually they are going to realise that even with a reduced and slim-line workforce, it means nothing unless you have people who are motivated and want to be here. There is no support – they only talk about what will happen in the future. No plans, only empty promises.
Unfortunately for them it’s starting to wear thin because we’ve listened to the same old crap for months now while simultaneously reading in the papers about how great and forward-thinking we all are courtesy of the PR Department’s take on life. Bollocks! I’d love to get a 10-minute opportunity to tell a Board Meeting exactly what is going on at ground level but their heads are so far up their arses. They could save millions getting rid of the waste that is middle-management alone.
I walked home again. I actually quite look forward to it now because in the past I only did it when I couldn’t be bothered walking up the hill in the other direction for a bus. Now I enjoy the walk even though it takes me roughly an hour to get home and covers about 5 or 6 something miles. It must be doing me a bit of good; stretching the muscles and my brain too because it gives me time to think, and if I have it on me, listen to music.
I managed to get onto my home email after fixing bits of my PC. It is in a bad way – only showing 16-bit colours and unable to recognise certain settings. A full reinstall is definitely required so hopefully those disks will arrive tomorrow.
The 3 poems I submitted to Ultimate Hallucination were accepted for review. I’ll know by the end of December if they are in or not, but at least they weren’t rejected outright.
I still have one to submit – not sure where that is going yet though. I don’t like submitting poems singularly as most places I find prefer between 3 and 5 to get a taste of your style.
Issue 37 of Hunting Jack was redrafted and is now a go for submission.
Then the most horrendous thing happened. I felt the tickle MOVE from the back of my head to behind my ear. I catapulted like an Action Man figure on an elastic rope out of my bed and out of semi-consciousness, frantically flapping my hands around my head to get rid of the 8-legged beastie that had infringed my slumber. I don’t know where it landed, but it took me a good few minutes to get over the feeling that it was waiting for me to return to sleep before crawling onto me with the intent of sinking its fangs into my skin.
Work was awful. No words can really describe how tedious and parochial it all is. I almost look forward to receiving my P45 or P60 – which ever comes first. The bosses are cottoning on to the fact that most of us in here and struggling to even find pretend work. I spoke to one guy who said, “I’m just fed up trying to think of reasons why I should come in here. I mean, how many times can you use the excuse of your Granny dieing in one year?”
Which is true. Eventually they are going to realise that even with a reduced and slim-line workforce, it means nothing unless you have people who are motivated and want to be here. There is no support – they only talk about what will happen in the future. No plans, only empty promises.
Unfortunately for them it’s starting to wear thin because we’ve listened to the same old crap for months now while simultaneously reading in the papers about how great and forward-thinking we all are courtesy of the PR Department’s take on life. Bollocks! I’d love to get a 10-minute opportunity to tell a Board Meeting exactly what is going on at ground level but their heads are so far up their arses. They could save millions getting rid of the waste that is middle-management alone.
I walked home again. I actually quite look forward to it now because in the past I only did it when I couldn’t be bothered walking up the hill in the other direction for a bus. Now I enjoy the walk even though it takes me roughly an hour to get home and covers about 5 or 6 something miles. It must be doing me a bit of good; stretching the muscles and my brain too because it gives me time to think, and if I have it on me, listen to music.
I managed to get onto my home email after fixing bits of my PC. It is in a bad way – only showing 16-bit colours and unable to recognise certain settings. A full reinstall is definitely required so hopefully those disks will arrive tomorrow.
The 3 poems I submitted to Ultimate Hallucination were accepted for review. I’ll know by the end of December if they are in or not, but at least they weren’t rejected outright.
I still have one to submit – not sure where that is going yet though. I don’t like submitting poems singularly as most places I find prefer between 3 and 5 to get a taste of your style.
Issue 37 of Hunting Jack was redrafted and is now a go for submission.
Colin 11:23 pm