Crushing Krisis

Comic Books, Drag Race, & Life in New Zealand

Personal

Denim Sneer

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At 10:30 on Tuesday night, as I edited our final Customization Requests document, I came to a realization.

“I had to wash a load of dress pants tonight… I’ll have to wear my denim ones tomorrow.”

Early warning, I’ve learned, is best defense anyone in my department is equipped with.

“Peter,” my director said as she merrily continued her perfect touch-typing, “I don’t think I would care if you came in a monkey suit.”

You see, technically there is no rule against wearing denim on business dress days, so long as it’s part of your business dress attire. The dress policy clearly states “Business shirts with a full collar, ties, and dress slacks,” without distinguishing any fabric considerations regarding any of the clothing items. And, while I might automatically assume that vinyl probably does not qualify, I have no reason to make the same assumption about denim. My pants are definitely slacks – cut like slacks, creased like slacks. They just happen to be made out of high quality denim. Yet, the groupthink immediately causes my fellow associates to sneer and say, “I see you wore your jeans today,” just because they are on the lookout for anyone that might not fit in. My director does not subscribe to said think.

Yesterday I reaped a bounty of sneers, despite the fact that my pants were creased and well-pressed while the sneerers were often wrinkled, or khaki. Every time I walked into my director’s office she would sneer and say, “I see you wore your jeans today.”

And then we’d burst out laughing for an entire minute. I like working with people who have avoided/evaded the groupthink.

Peeking Through

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Dreary from my new desk, but closer to air, free and flowing just outside the window.

There has been, apparently, a fit of jealousy about my desk. Everyone wants a window so that they too can be closer to the outside. It’s more than that for me, though; sometimes I like it because it reminds me that I don’t mind being in here so much at all.

The days alternate between long and longer, though I find that I don’t mind. Yes, increased hours actually decrease my wage, and yes, the corporate world is taking advantage of me in my impressionable youth, but I like it. I love arguing over point sizes at eleven thirty at night, and I love electronically reviewing materials for a meeting at seven forty-five while still in my towel.

I’m sure the novelty of it will wear off eventually. My Director speaks about time in broad strokes, painting a month here, a couple of years there. Every day the same, in it’s way, but each with a unique challenge.

On Monday, our new interns started. One of them has been ostensibly paired with me, I think to feel out my ability to delegate. I think I do a decent job, but the dichotomy between my spindly guffawing twentysomething self and my seemingly emotionless communications automaton mode might be a little too unnerving.

I wouldn’t want to do this forever, but it is a terrific fire to forge a more steely me.

Do Something

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This MetaFilter post is today’s required reading. I like to think of myself as having become desensitized to almost all international news about death and suffering, but i find this story to be very disturbing – maybe because it not only involves innocent bystanders, but also journalists.

I’m too tired to go into full-on-rant mode, but there is obviously something very wrong with the American Military system. I don’t think it can be blamed on a single official or administration. A systematic change needs to occur, and i don’t think it’s coming our way anytime soon.

On a note that would only seem related if you were me, i have never been happier to not own a television than during yesterday’s Eagle’s game. Having been close to 100% teeveefree for over two months, for every second of my viewing i was aghast at the utter nonsense and stupidity communicated by almost every aspect of the televised medium. Aside from a handful of cerebral commercials, i felt every aspect of my viewing experience prodding me to lower my perceptions to that of the lowest common denominator of the viewing public.

I am vaguely aware of a “turn off your televisions” week that’s sponsored by some organization at some point of the year. I always found that to be somewhat misguided, both in design and purpose. Does anyone even do it? Do those that do even get the point, or notice the difference? Try turning it off for a month. Try throwing it out.

Television is the ultimate indulgence of utter passivity, the apex of wasted time. Stop watching MTV and write a song. Stop watching soap operas, and dream your own life. I fully recognize that some television can be art (Angels In America), and that apropos wittiness can sometimes make an indulgence worthwhile (Buffy), but most of the time it’s just an excuse not to be doing something else.

Finally, a reminder via my good friend Lindsay. October 3 is the deadline for voter registration for the November Election. If you aren’t registered, have recently moved, or need an absentee ballot, you still have a few weeks to straighten out the details. Specifically, for registration concerns, try Vote For Change, and for issues with locating a polling place try Election Impact.

Most importantly, just vote, goddamnit. Vote for an independent. Write in your mom. I don’t care. The point is not just about choosing but about being a part of the process. I understand that you can’t make it to the polls for every primary or local election; neither can i. This one, however, is a must. If you can’t find the time to vote, or to use the internet to register for an absentee ballot so you don’t have to find the time, I don’t think you need to bother to find the time to read this page. Or speak to me ever again.

Please take today as your opportunity to do something. About anything. Be tangible; effect change.

Stalling

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Sometimes I get so enamored with seeing a particular post come up while I load the page that I abstain from writing anything else just to keep it there (rather than writing another post I’m enamored with, perish the thought). I have a great post composed for you at home. It’s great. It has links in it, and stuff. I just couldn’t bring myself to post it.

Ahh, but isn’t it amazing what boredom can drive me to do.

Why is it so much easier to fall asleep when you’re trying to do something else, like take notes in a meeting or play guitar? Is it just because your attention is already engaged, making it easier for you to drift into slumber, rather than lying with your mind busy working overtime?

I often I fall asleep sitting on our bed, playing electric guitar … sometimes literally while playing – plugged in and everything. The sleep comes so suddenly that I have no recollection of what transpires between playing guitar and waking up (which, I have to say, was a little disconcerting).

On a related topic: carrying a gig bag is a better conversation starter than commenting on the weather or grumbling about the elevators, especially when you are carrying it inside a corporate fortress such as this one. I’ve already lost track of how many people have asked me if I would be “rocking out” on my lunch hour. I’m surprised they don’t just yell “Freebird” at me from across the lobby.

I at once relish and shun these moments, where it is made so clear that I am young and vital and still alive. On one hand, I love the affirmation that no, I will not give into the doldrum routine of adultness. On the other, I fear the doldrum groupthink, where the young one with the shaggy hair and the guitar case must be transgressing because he is not dour enough.

The groupthink intimidates me. Even though I don’t buy into it I still find myself noting when men’s pants aren’t ironed, or when anyone wears an inappropriately casual shirt on a weekday. Why should I care? Rationally, I don’t, but irrationally I just want to make sure everyone is being held to the same standards that I am. I can foresee how looking at someone’s shoes in the hallway transforms into, “Her lunchbreak already came and went – why is she wearing sneakers?”

Now that I have a lighter, smaller acoustic guitar, I’ve been thinking about bringing it with me to play on my lunch breaks. I could learn a new song every day, easily blowing through my standing 50+ to-do list of Beatles tunes. I don’t necessarily want to wander the streets while trying to learn a new song, but I remember the puzzled stares I drew last summer the few times I played in the courtyard. Will the groupthink suffocate my artistic urges?

I think the answer so far is YES, but not in the way that I meant it there. Oh, to be a well-fed starving artist.

Ah, but who am I kidding, I’d still play City of Heroes all day. Hi, do we remember my Senior Project.

Note to Self, Apparently Unread

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Note to Self: Stop having sex dreams about other bloggers; it’s kindof creepy.

PS: Definitely don’t post about this.

PPS: Well, if you have to post about it, definitely don’t allude to which one. Better not to post about it at all, though.

PPPS: If this should occur again in the future, definitely don’t get drunk with your girlfriend and tell her which one.

PPPPS: Furthermore, if this should occur again in the future and you get drunk with your girlfriend, subsequently telling her which one don’t answer any of her prying questions about the details, but do not phrase said reply as “Get your own sex dreams!”

PPPPPS: Re: Details – You whore!

PPPPPPS: Revise the margueritas ratio; it should not be 2:1 … Yes, you’re a boy, but she holds her tequila better than you do.

PPPPPPPS: You know, if you feel the need to be more risque you could just go back to posting webcam shots of your ass.

PPPPPPPPS: Fine, make the damn post, see if I give you any more advice.