Category Archives: Rhapsodising

Updated weekly, on Saturdays

Sausage Fest

March 10, 2010

Today, for reasons that will remain largely undisclosed, I was forced to return 72lbs of sausages to Costco and exchange them for the same amount of sausage of a slightly different variety. I was already 45 minutes later than intended due to various and sundry issues, thus, by the time I reached the returns counter at Costco I was in a less than chipper mood. Which is to say, I was tired, hungry, stressed, angry, and more than a little self-conscious about being That Girl With All The Sausage. Thus, when the returns clerk nodded irritably at the $150 worth of raw meat at the counter between us and groused, “You know we’ll have to throw all this away, right?” my only attempt at pleasantries was, “Yeah, well maybe your warehouse shouldn’t have screwed up, I want a full refund”. Yes, I have successfully devolved into THAT customer, the one I would have sworn at in the drive-through at the various unfortunate fast food restaurants I worked at in a past life. I’m a bitch, but I get things done.

“I need to know where to get [specific item number] to replace what I returned,” I said, once the refund was completed.

The returns clerk gestured expansively across the entire north side of the store, “Oh, it’s over there, you can’t miss it”.

As it turns out, I can, and did. After wandering the aisles for about ten minutes, my search parameters changed from finding sausage to finding anyone at all who could make the agony end: I just wanted out of that hellish store. Costco is a fantastic place, in theory, full of great bargains and bulk beer (seriously), but the reality is that it is an extremely unpleasant place to shop, particularly when an 8-hour work day is rapidly stretching into ten.

After finally locating a Costco representative willing to help (which was a challenge above and beyond simply finding an employee), he passed me off on the adult version of Jack-Jack from The Incredibles (the demon-super-hero-baby - if you haven’t seen the movie, don’t). This particular employee was the sort of faux-cheerful, energetic fellow who makes you want to punch him in the throat, but you can’t because his energy has completely sapped yours.

“So, you’re looking for sausage? What kind of sausage? Oh, breakfast sausage? Okay, I know just what you’re looking for, we’ll find it.”

This, and variations on the sausage theme, was uttered in rapid-fire micro-bursts of speech as we whirled down aisles I had already been down, clearly marked as containing every type of meat EXCEPT sausage. The second time through the aisles, with my fearless guide still talking and suggesting every few seconds that I should have a sample of whatever happened to be nearest to us, I began to wonder when this strange adventure would end. I was pushing a grocery cart the size of an SUV and had already mowed down three small children and taken out a display near the deli meats as we blazed up and down the aisles; Jack-Jack was STILL talking.

“What do you need the sausage for? Oh, a company breakfast? Try a sample! Are you cooking? You don’t sound very happy about it! No need to snap, just asking! Try a sample! I’m sure we’ll find it somewhere! What kind of company? Sample? Oh, look, here it is!”

He was pointing to an aisle that we had already been down twice before, and I was about to protest that it couldn’t be there, we just looked, but lo and behold, there before me was the sausage of my recent, delirious daydreams!

Jack-Jack chirped, “I found your sausage, are you happy now?”

“As happy as I can be about raw meat.”

“Don’t you like sausage?”

“I think I’m a lesbian.”

“What?”

“I said, thanks for your help.”

I now have sixty pounds of sausage crammed into my freezer, which, if you were paying attention at the beginning, you may recall that I began the debaucle with 72lbs, meaning I still have to return to Costco tomorrow to get the remaining meat, once they are restocked. Oh joy beyond all joys.

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The HSS Misanthrope

March 5, 2010

Harsh, But True: A compendium of rants from this week.

1. The femme fatale character arc, from sexual power to eventual destruction, may be blatant misogyny, but there is some truth to it. Sluts, however beautiful and promising, eventually stagnate on their own idiocy, but not before ensnaring idiots of the penile variety in order to beget more idiots. This is only a pity (and the stuff of novels) when the slut ensnares a man of nobler birth than herself.

2. An error, however minor, on my part will result in hours of agony, probably tears, and much self-censure. If it appears that I am taking a mistake lightly, it is because I am trying to convince myself that it is not rational to throw oneself in front of a bus because of a minor filing mistake.

3. When reading an adventure novel with zombies featured prominently, I should not find myself dozing off from the author’s mechanical writing style. Don’t enumerate emotion at me, let me experience it.

4. I can’t choose my co-workers, but I can choose my friends and I’m making a conscious effort to purge relationships I probably should have abandoned long ago. This is not necessarily a negative reflection on the people who I have chosen to no longer associate with, but more so a reflection of my choice to move in a different direction in my life. Unfailing loyalty is not the virtue I always held it to be; in many instances it is a crutch.

5. I very much dislike people who are positive all the time. Life is not always kittens and rainbows. Even when it is, very often the kittens pee on the couch and scratch you while you are sleeping. The point is, it’s okay to bitch.

6. There are few things more irritating than new converts. (Or highschool lovers, for that matter). This goes with the previous point. I understand that you are happy, and I’m happy that you are happy, but if I have to HEAR about your happiness one more time, I will rain down a world of hurt on your wee mind until you’re curled up sobbing in a corner. It goes something like this: AIDS! Haiti! Chile! Unemployment! Ingrown toenails! Disease! Child molesters! People who drive too slowly on the freeway! People who tailgate people who drive too slowly on the freeway! Cockroaches! Scratched DVDs! Dirty laundry! Hair in the bathtub drain! American Idol! Killer whales! Rapists! These things didn’t just go away because you think you’re in love with life, Jesus, the girl next door, Buddha, Yoda, or whoever; you’re just high on endorphins and idiocy. Your body is decaying, your sins are not forgiven, your girlfriend is faking it and world peace is not a viable answer to anything. Shut the fuck up. Learn to buck up. You’re absolutely worthless until you value yourself apart from anyone else’s opinions of you.

est finis.

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A Series of Fortunate Events, Part II

February 6, 2010

“Now I bid you lose me and find yourselves; and only when you have all denied me will I return to you” (Friedrich Nietzsche, Why I Am So Wise)

In the months immediately subsequent to my abrupt relocation from Idaho to Washington, I was plagued with depression, illness, and overwhelming isolation, but, for the first time in as long as I could remember, I had hope that things would change. Boise had left a lingering sickness in my soul, a black phlegm lodged deep in my lungs that I still find myself coughing up, but I found freedom in allowing myself to fail. I thought new thoughts, and rejected, slowly, the old beliefs and morals that had stagnated my mind.

Slowly, so very slowly, I am beginning to calm the rage that gives me constant headaches and makes me grind my teeth at night. I am no longer a cornered animal, violently lashing out. I am no longer the frightened child feigning boldness against a raging bully. I simply am. My mind is still every moment as chaotic as ever (pure Id, slowly being tempered into acuity), but now, in the worst moments, I know that this too shall pass. In the best moments, I strive to stay present. Yesterday is but a memory, and tomorrow but a thought, I have only now.

I strive to live an amoral life, unhampered by the overwhelming guilt of my childhood. I do not need a God, I have a mind. I do not need a savior, I have forgiven myself.

I see the world in colour again, for the first time since childhood.

I am finding myself.

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In the Interim…

December 6, 2009

I do have big plans for my two- (or perhaps three-) part blog on my selfishness theorem, but have not been able to devote a reasonable block of time to its completion for a number of reasons, most of which include (but are not limited to) working long hours, the theft of my laptop (I do not enjoy writing by hand), and my excessive amount of traveling of late to and from Boise. I was in Boise so frequently in November, I almost began to feel like I lived there again.

For those who are unaware, I am currently employed as an administrative assistant for a medium-ish sized company (I don’t know what constitutes a medium-sized company, I just know that the company I work for is larger than small and smaller than large. Precision is not my forte). My job description includes office management, administrative work, special projects, personal assistant to the CEO and “other duties” (a phrase the CEO is ALWAYS happy to remind me encompasses whatever the hell he wants at any given moment). It’s a good job, but it’s frequently overwhelming (I won’t go into detail of the amount of time I have spent sobbing in the bathroom).

The net result of this exagerrated work load is that I am forced to prioritize my work in such a way that some of the more basic tasks (such as ordering office supplies and fulfilling my coworkers’ menial requests) are put off in favour of more pressing issues. Most of my coworkers understand the level of pressure I am under, and docilely accept my inability to immediately cater to their requests. We have a process: coworker submits request verbally. Megan says, “send me an email”. Coworker submits request via email. Megan flags said email for follow-up within the next two weeks and gets to it when she has time.

Generally speaking, we have had no major issues with this routine. Until now. We recently had several new hires and several transfers from other offices come to our building. Most of these people have adapted rapidly to My Way (”Hit the road, Bucko” being the only other option presented), and as such we can maintain a cordial relationship. One particular creature, however, seems to have trouble adapting, so I have adopted a full-scale behavioural modification plan.

The offender frequently loiters by my desk, creepily rifling his bacteria-ridden hands through the bowl of candy I keep on my desk. He never says anything to me until I address him. (He displays extreme passive-aggressiveness - little does he realise that he is dealing with someone who is not at all passive, just aggressive). At first, I attempted to be polite. “How may I help you?” I would ask, in my least sarcastic and most officious* tone.

Him: “Yes. [Insert unnecessarily long pause while he continues to stare at me and violate my candy dish**]. I need.[Pause]. You. [Pause]. To order me. [Pause]. A/an [insert random office supply]“.

Me: “No problem! I’m sure you’ll need more than just that one item, why don’t you make me a list and then send me an email.”

A few hours later, this same conversation would be repeated, except I would become increasingly rude. I do not enjoy being stared at, particularly by someone who displays significant anti-social behaviours, and every time he would come stand at my desk I would ignore him for as long as possible, then, finally, snap.

“What?!”

“Yes. [Significant pause]. I would like [pause] [insert some other inane office supply]”

“Send. [Pause]. Me. [Pause]. An. [Pause]. Email.”

He NEVER sent a fucking email.

This was repeated about four times the first day, and probably the same amount of time the second day. Once, he even had the gall to ask me if his stuff had been ordered, to which I replied, “Oh, what stuff? I have not received an email requesting any supplies.”

He has yet to send an email, but HE WILL COMPLY. I shall prevail. Or else he’ll spend the rest of his time at our office without such simple amenities as power supplies and staplers.

Notes:

* I’m using the word in the archaic sense, since I did not realise until I just now lookied it up that it has taken the connotation of being meddlesome. I prefer the Jane Austen meaning.

** For the record, that is not a euphemism. Thank God.

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A Series of Fortunate Events, Part I

November 21, 2009

The Selfishness Theorem:

1. Selfishness is not inherently negative or positive.

2. Living for oneself is a natural extension of the evolutionary directive towards self-preservation.

3. Human selfishness can extend beyond the whims and desires of the moment to encompass a greater goal.

4. Cognitively aware selfish behaviour directs us to behave in ways that benefit others, because ultimately this benefits us as herd animals (unselfish behaviour is, at its core, selfish). Selfish behaviour therefore drives a healthy society.

I have explained my idea incompletely, but I hope at least the gist of what I am attempting to say is clear. I am sure my Selfishness Theorem is neither original nor particularly radical (I have been told that it is Randian), but it was the result of original and radical thought on my part when I dared to posit an answer to a question that was thrown accusatively at me over and over again: Can there be morality, or even meaning in life, apart from God?

“No” was the unequivocal answer from pastors, parents and peers, and I, having no other frame of reference, believed them. Truth apart from divinity, they insisted, was void. I could neither believe in, nor worship their God, and, in accordance with all I had been taught I concluded that life was meaningless. Thus, when I found myself waking up in a hospital room that smelled nauseatingly of stomach acid and charcoal, with the heavy weight of a heart that had defied death the night before still beating slowly in my chest, I was angrier than I had ever been before in a life characterised predominantly by rage. Angry at the monitor that counted off my vitals, angry at the doctors who whispered “miracle” to my religious parents, angry at a God I didn’t believe in, and angriest of all that the culmination of nihilism is having nothing to rage against. (This is why the Buddhists are peaceful - they recognize the futility of anger in a world without God).
In my 19 years of having been told that I was selfish and immoral, 19 years of being guilt-ridden and brow-beaten by a religion that is redemptive only to the elect, I, for the first time, had downed two bottles of pills, finally, consciously, done something entirely for myself. Though I did not realise it at the time, selfishness would be my salvation.

Many people will say (with a mixture of derision and fear) that suicide is the most selfish act a person can engage in (intending “selfish” to be taken in a pejorative sense). These people are correct: suicide IS an inherently selfish act, instigated by the pressure to unselfishly meet the demands of others. We are not intended to unselfishly strive to live for others, and our biology rebels against such unnatural acts.

Many people have near-death experiences and find God. Many more people have near-life experiences and continue on in the same rut. I had no God to turn to, and, when the rage died down, I found that my will to live was not obsolete, but was instead crying out for a different life: a life apart from religious guilt and fear, a life not spent in a several-thousand-year-old mold intended to reacreate homo sapiens sapiens in the image of a middle-eastern tribe’s deity. A life not contracted by the morality I learned from infancy, but instead expanding exponentially in curiousity and discovery. The beauty of nihilism, I learned, is freedom.

So, I chose life, in the most Darwinian sense: primeval, raw, and selfish. I fought, I failed, I grieved, I was reckless, thoughtless, utterly selfish, and I began to heal.

Almost two years after my suicide attempt, I realised again that I was spiraling back into deep, terrifying, suicidal depression. This time, though, I was selfish enough to believe I had value, to believe my life was worth preserving. I had spent a lifetime of fighting for others and for whatever cause I was most passionate about at the time, but now I fought for myself, and, again made a conscious decision to be completely selfish. I packed my bags and left Boise.

To be continued…

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