Clap On, Clap Off. Clap On Clap Off!

Repetition makes long strips easier. Luckily, while I am an office drone, repetition is ALL I do.



This is seriously my day. Call the TIME phone line 4 times a day, Sign a piece of paper 4 times a day. All for the sake of making sure we're actually IN the Building. AT work. Not necessarily DOING work but at least they know we're there.

Additionally, they've incorporated a new game into our day: Musical Rooms. In which all 28 of us manage to settle into a room that seats 20 and only has enough outlets and ethernet ports for 20 computers, and then someone tells us that we've been moved to another room on an entirely different floor which is also insufficient to seat us all. So we all hustle as quick as we can to the other room, fighting tooth and nail to get a spot where we can A) sit and B) plug in a computer. Rinse, repeat. They had us switch rooms THREE times.

Today is the first day of the rest of my life

It's official. Today, the people in my position in Northern California are all becoming hourly employees, and therefore, legally "exempt". And all the joys that go with that.



There are a lot of whispers about what this all means for us. Let me enumerate:

Pros
1) Paid commute time! (we were already getting paid for mileage)
2) Shift differential! (not so great for the night shift, which is only apparently getting about 30 cents more per hour than the evening shift)
3) Extra pay for working on national holidays!
4) No more responding to Payroll emails!

Cons
1) Only 30 minute lunches (No more going out for lunch).
2) No combining breaks.
3) We must clock in and out. We've got only 3 phones in our command center and there's as many as 30 of us on duty at a time.
4) No more leaving early if there's nothing to do.
5) No more taking lunches together and the first lunch of evening shift must be taken at 4:20pm.
6) All time worked and commuting time must be signed off by at least 3 people.
7) PTO requests (even PTO that's already been okayed) has to be submitted through a faxed form to several parties who all have to agree it's alright for you to go missing for a day or two.

Seems to me, there's a lot more down than up, but then, I'm a pessimist. On the other hand, it's looking like I'll be getting paid a good bit more, based just on commuting times. Of course, just 12 days from today, we go back to Emeryville, and we don't get paid commuting time OR mileage. Lest you think my company actually LIKES hemorrhaging money.

Bending the Rules

Now that we've been at this hospital for over 3 weeks, there is REALLY nothing to do there. I mean, it's ridiculously slow. Naturally, being an intelligent individual, I am endlessly searching for something to keep me occupied. Unfortunately, nothing is allowed by our "managers". damn. Now we're at a really really small hospital in Manteca. There are more of us than there are nurses! So we get thrown off the floor because we're crowding them.

Twist of irony: I drew this at work two weeks ago, and I am posting this update from work now. MUAHAHAHAH! I'm subverting the system!

One step PAST crazy

Midterms were always just an overwhelming time and professors suck. Most of all that Art Professor.



If you look hard, you'll notice my Art class was the one with the secondary project (the bastard).

I hope the Old Ones eat you AND your bad art

Back in senior year, the spring semester classes had started and I was alternating between disappointed and enthralled at some of the ideas that count as "education" these days. I loved my class that I (unfortunately) had to commute to another campus to get to (also unfortunate was that was at 8am which meant I was waking up on Tuesdays and Thursdays at 6am).

But all my other classes seemed to have just a little too much reading and discussion... as though my professors made lesson plans and realized they only had enough material to last maybe 2 weeks. "How shall we fluff up these dismal lesson plans? A-ha! Reading! Lots of reading! And class discussions! I'm a genius!" Of course, a genius would recognize that a class of 60 students doesn't really yield ideal discussion.

My Art class was 3 hours from 1-4pm and unfortunately it was 2.5 hours of the prof lecturing on our reading (there's only 7 of us) and the final half hour was used for giving examples of things we were supposed to experience through the readings. Very dull. Particularly for a room with no windows (it was in the basement). And poorly planned (considering we had a project due in the middle of the second week and the prof hadn't introduced us to any of the technology we were supposed to use, and had mentioned we were to work on it solely outside of class).

Still, the prof is otherwise a nice guy, just socially awkward and not used to the competitive nature of the folks at my school. But really, today's comic will give you a little taste of how I usually felt in that art class.



The Cthulhu Lolita dress is designed by deviantART's Carnet-atelier. I DID however make a wearable version which I've worn to work on Halloween and to a few conventions.

For those of you who've never even heard of Cthulhu, click here for a link to the Wikipedia article.

I just realized how wordy this post is. I apologize. But it's great if you manage to get through it. Good luck.

Uh... Thanks?

In this season of gifting and giving and presents and delicious candy, I can't help but feel overwhelmed by the sheer amount of spending to be done. Thank goodness I don't live on my own. I'd waste a small fortune preparing for the holidays. As it was, I was stressed enough just trying to buy presents for my friends in the short space of time available. Ideally, I'd be looking ahead and see something in a store in May or September and say, "oh, that's something I should really get for so-and-so". Unfortunately, I lack that sort of foresight and often find myself scrambling in December to remember things I saw on sale in February or July. I also lack memory and money; these things being among the most important when finding gifts for other people. Did I get them this last year? Did I see this item at her house last week? Gah!

Skip back two years, and this was an issue not at all helped by the fact that the last day of finals at my school in my senior year was Dec. 22, with most students returning home on the 23rd. How could I do a whole year's worth of shopping within a 2 day period?

Luckily, although I lacked foresight, memory and money, I AM fortunately blessed with a great deal of creativity with which I am generally able to make up for the other issues. For instance, for my college boyfriend's mother, I bought a stark white apron and made an iron-on transfer with a picture of a bichon and the words, "I only cook for my dog... and occasionally for my other children." Which was well-received, thankfully.

And also luckily, although I lack funds, I am an incredibly savvy shopper, and managed to spend only about $140 on all the gifts I bought which includes my 3 best friends, boyfriend, boyfriend's parents, my own parents (all 4), step-brother, and close friends at school in addition to cards for all those who didn't get actual presents. I was so pleased by my abilities, I will now insert a mood icon here:


This is exactly how I felt.

But how do people deal with gifts that aren't quite what we expected? I try to accept them gracefully. If they're really wild and out there, I still accept them gracefully, but in my head I think about all the nefarious things I can do with the item. A set of decorative pens? I would string them together with ribbon and use it as a spiky lasso of death. Or put marshmallow Peep heads on the pointy ends and surround someone's house with them. Put the fear in 'em, I say!

But Paper? The most nefarious thing you can do with that, really is some really nasty papercuts.



Again, Happy Holidays, everyone!

The best way to die...

So I had a wonderful dream after finals and during Winter Break. It was a dream above all dreams. In truth, now that I've gotten my special studies grade back, my major advisor doesn't really deserve much of the treatment in the comic... at least... not the flaming arrow. I managed an A-, which meant that fall of senior year was my first college semester that I managed straight A's (of any kind).



She totally deserves to at least be a little harassed by a squid though...

On a more serious note though, the spring semester went a lot smoother, and I no longer feel any sort of antagonism toward her. Advisor love!

Are you Joking?

Well, it didn't happen just like in the comic, but my advisor didn't bring up the fact that she'd investigated me for cheating or plagiarism. I have nothing funny to say here. But I'll let you all derive some enjoyment from the comic.



Yikes. All your comments on the previous post are greatly appreciated. Looks like although I wrote an A-/B+ paper, I'll be getting a B+/B because I procrastinated so much. Ah well. At least it's over...

Rage... Building,...Vision... Blurring... AAAARGH!

I know more of you are just dying to know what happened after I sent in my special studies. It eventually got there on time. On the other hand, maybe you're NOT dying to know, since you're probably all of the impression that that was the end of it. I know, I certainly did.

Unfortunately, no. It's not the end.



More stress and GRAAAAAAH! was headed my way. Needless to say, I was less than thrilled. I got an email from my advisor which basically said, 'I can't give you a grade until I talk to you face-to-face'. Big uh-oh moment. I marked it as un-read and vowed not to think of it for 2 days. Two days later, I opened it, sent her a reply and suggested a meeting time.

The day after I heard from my advisor, I also got a message from my Mentor who said my advisor had been talking to him and she had said my paper was SO good, she was trying to find out if I'd copied parts of it from somewhere or had had any outside help.

Yikes! Serious accusations there, and totally false! I was filled with worry and stress once again, because I needed to talk to her and make it all right. Tsoris! Anger! Frustration! Like a good soap opera, right? Now all I needed was an evil twin sister to run off and marry some guy named Hernando and they would come back in 2 seasons with a small child/baby and dump him on me. I hate babies.

I should have seen it coming

I'm sure you're all wondering how my special studies project ended up. If not, I'll tell you anyway. I got a minor extension to work until the day after Christmas. I was done by 2am Christmas morning. So I emailed a copy to the dean and prepped to send a hard copy to my major advisor on the 26th. Little did I know what dangers lurk in the US postal service system. The plan was to overnight the damn package and get it to my advisor by the next day. I was to ensure that she wouldn't have to sign for it. "I'm not chasing down your special studies," she informed me, "I'm not going to run around looking for it. Get it to my doorstep or I'm not grading it." Ultimatum Ouch.

At this point I was wondering just what exactly had crawled up her butt and whether she had noticed it yet. My guess was leaning towards something spiny (like some really skinny porcupine) and Yes. Well, arguing wasn't going to solve anything. So I vowed I would do just as she had requested and hope for the best.

Alas, the US Postal Service service leaves a lot to be desired. On the 26th, I went to the post office and for a whopping $14.40, I had all my papers mailed express to Easthampton, with a waiver of signature attached. I leave the story here to give a brief overview of what happened then:



Yes, the comic's style changes as I become more melodramatic. I promise the funnier ones will be back to color and minimalistic expression.

In the meantime, that's exactly what happened. By 3 days later, (according to the USPS online tracking services), my special studies still had not been delivered. As though anything in this entire ordeal could be easy. As if. A series of phone calls later, I was finally told by the post office in Easthampton that my major advisor was on vacation and had requested a hold on her mail so it wouldn't be delivered until the hold was removed the next day. *facepalm. I decided to take no chances. I told the folks there that if she hadn't picked up her mail by noon that day, to deliver the package.

And so now, it is safely at her house. Thank goodness. I'm ready for some real relaxation now. Too much tsoris surrounding this whole thing. And as I have credentials to be a professional worrier, I've been stressed like nobody's business. There's absolutely no reason for all the crap I've had to put up with for this stupid special studies.

But it was done! Hooray!

Line-Art Therapy

Somewhere in my history I fell out of the habit of asking people for help. I think this is a trait my parents encouraged as they saw it as a type of independence and they knew that as an only-child, I was going to need to fend for myself a great deal. Far be it from me to judge my parents' techniques, but this one could have used some addendums. For instance:
You CAN ask for help or support when...
...you've made a total fool of yourself.
...you're about to fail at life.
...you're about to fail at school.
...dealing with annoying relatives.

So what do you do when you ask for help too late?

From Senior Year right before finals:
"I'm in a peculiar situation. I've never (in the whole of my life) asked a teacher for an extension on a paper or project. I'm currently doing a semester-long special studies that's a little outside my realm of experience, and it is battering me. I figured that since I'd basically been totally out of touch for a week (what with a needle in my foot and surgery and Vicodin and all that), it would be reasonable to ask for a 5-7 day extension for medical reasons.

'Course, my class dean is completely on some sort of bizarre power trip. She won't grant extensions for medical reasons (I have a friend who was just diagnosed with esophogeal cancer and is currently on 12 pills a day and the dean won't give her an extension) and says that a note from the hospital and health services isn't enough. She says she'll talk to my major advisor (who is currently in a state of HATE), and see what SHE says. That means, I won't know about an extension until Monday. For a paper that was technically due on Friday (yesterday). The following actions have run through my mind:
- jump in front a car
- have a tree branch drop on me all of a sudden
- use a voodoo doll on the dean (which won't get me an extension but will make me feel better)

Technically, the first two wouldn't get me an extension either... the dean has basically said no medical reason is ever good enough to get an extension. It's your fault for not looking both ways when you started to cross the street..."

Out, out damn line!

Back in my senior year of college, I was unfortunate enough to step on a sewing needle that had been dropped on my carpet. My weight caused it to snap in half. One half was found across the room, the other half, was MIA. It was right around 2 weeks before finals, and I found myself suddenly in an immense amount of pain. From the event:

"Tomorrow's adventure includes attempts to schedule myself for surgery to get the darned thing out. It hurts like crazy. This only confirms to me that waving a magnet around my foot in an attempt to figure out if it was still inside worked. Probably wasn't the smartest thing to do, but there you have it. It's a lot more than I thought it would be as well. I thought there'd be maybe an eighth of an inch in there... but no. It's more like 3/4 of an inch, and pressed up against my bone for super extra fun. I include for your ultimate enjoyment, a fantastic x-ray from radiology.



The school's health services are gonna hear about this one. I guarantee it. (side note: the school's health office told me it was nothing to worry about and since they couldn't see anything, it was unlikely there was anything in my foot. "soak your foot in warm water every day and apply this anti-biotic ointment!" . . .right... right.) On the actual x-ray, you can see the eye of the needle. It's actually pretty darn cool. And if the surgeons let me keep my x-rays, I'm definitely going to build myself a lightbox frame and it'll be the first work of art to grace my grown-up apartment (that is, when I can afford a grown-up apartment).