-The place where I am the technologist-

When I joined the interview committee seeking someone who would do IT work but still work closely with us in the library, I figured I would not understand some of the very technical jargon the very technical other members of the committee would use. This turned out to be true, but to a greater extent than I realized.

Among the librarians here - and in most places, I would guess, I'm considered technically adept. Not here.

As the odd man out, I became very aware of an undercurrent of contempt for end users. ALL end users. And on my account they must have been holding back.

Maybe it's okay for IT folks to have their gripes. And of course, we knew about this, thanks to Scott Adams and other technologist-humorists, who snark about the ignorance of 'induhviduals.' But it made me wonder if I have been similarly uncharitable in the place where I am the reigning technologist.

-Good thing I got to the phone first-

If one of your students calls your office to ask you out, it's always better if you're the one who takes the call. It's flattering, I suppose, but potentially flattening. It may have been my imagination, but I thought my coworkers' ears twitched as I politely declined. With any luck, my neutral language choices belied the student's inappropriate question, and my ego is *privately* boosted without consequences.

-Welcome back to the city, sucker-

I've been in the country so long I've become a complete bumpkin. Last Monday I went to the city for a show, and paid a guy in a parking lot because he was standing in a parking lot the way parking attendants do. He asked me if I wanted a receipt and I said sure, buoyed by a promise of legitimacy. He gave me one from the central parking authority, too, than went to 'get change' in a bar down the street.

I'm not such a rube that I sat around waiting for him.

-Ascent-

It is evaluation time at work. We all needed to answer a questionnaire, detailing our activities over the past academic/fiscal year. I had self-assessor's block until I got the bright idea of opening the sent mail folder in my work email application. It formed a chronological calendar of my own activities, useful or not, over the past year.

Snapping through all the work e-mails I'd sent since this time last year only took a few hours, and I'd garnered enough material to need extra space for the survey. That feels good, even though I suspect no one will read it but me. My coworker indignantly complained that she regularly performed all the duties in her job description. What more was there?

What more, indeed. I thought. Perhaps you should invent another fake title for yourself. (For some reason, she began calling herself an evening supervisor, even though she is all the staff there is in the PM)

My director dropped my survey in the file and told me that she planned to recommend me to "run" the department after she retired, and until a successor could be found by the search committee. I doubt whoever takes over will truly run the place, in light of the restructuring. But I felt buoyed and depressed by her confidence. It's nice to hear of a promotion, even with caveats. But I'm also hoping to leave soon, and really don't want to go much deeper.

Also, I doubt the other employees - who have been here longer, are older, and very set in their ways - would ever take orders from me. And it's probably not a good idea to try to force them.

-Tumbril-

There is an evil comedian in my head.

Let me explain..

Everyone is dressed up today. Just now, a tenured professor extended his arm to my boss, which she took. They walked in a show of mock-courtliness to an appreciation luncheon. As they left, the evil comedian called after: "The tumbril awaits."

This is a line from the western film Stagecoach, referring to the French revolution and the guillotine.

Why did I find this funny enough to say it aloud?

-Watching the Phantom of the Opera-

I may have to tear up my elitist card. I'm enduring the latest Phantom of the opera movie. I feel obliged to, really. It was lent to me by one of my college age fans, in return for some research assistance.

Just doing my job.

It is, I imagine, exactly what a college freshman might consider a spectacular film, it being, I can already tell from the opening sequence, a moulon rouge style spectacle, influencing budding female filmmaker for years to come.

I, on the other hand, will probably fast forward through most of this.

Have to watch it, though. She might ask pointed questions, and I don't lie very well.

So consider my real-time notes:
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Okay, I understand why this movie appeals to her. She and the lead actress could use each other for shaving mirrors.
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The Raoul character has Fabio hair and stands up to drive a carriage. I bet he sits down to pee.
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Half-baked, and overdone at the same time.
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So many unnecessary horses. Jesus.
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Okay, some guy just did the robot.
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Favorite suspension-of-disbelief-moment:

The Phantom comes out on stage in 'disguise,' but Christine's boyfriend, the gendarmes, and a theatre full of spectators and actors squirm until HE HAS HER IN HIS ARMS AND SHE TEARS OFF THE MASK. Surprise! Even though the character he replaced was fatter, shorter, had a beard and a completely different voice, they were surprised?
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I know, Plot device. But ye gods.
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That's it! No more flashbacks, boats, or equine fetishes, and.. wait.. Schumacher directed?

I need a drink.

-Warm Enough-

It was warm enough yesterday to sun oneself in the courtyard like a lizard. And if you sit still long enough, the butterflies and the birds nearly light on you, and..

Just after I wrote that, a butterfly did.

Maybe I should move. These critters don't have enough respect for humans.