Alright,

Aug. 3rd, 2009 10:00 am
youngraven: (Default)
so I know we've all been trying to shed sunlight over our lives and others by posting bits of joy - and I'm never wanting to detract from that, surely no.

But I want my bleeding monitor. Anois, lé do thóil. Seriously, man - it's been a fortnight since I'm after writing to request it be sent here.

Where? Is? It?

You go on and on for ever about Greening Up the Space - and yet I find myself printing out pages and pages of shite that I'd not need to do if I had me damned monitor.

You have ways. Magical ones. Sure, it's the truth - you know how to make things be here instead of there. So? Cen fáth níl sé anseo?!

Grr.

youngraven: (Off Centre)
...before I shove off for the evening.

Morning aggro
When I opened my office door this morning, I discovered that somebody had wedged a cart stacked with office detritus behind my chair. I'd been given a message to the effect of 'the area formerly known as Graphics has been cleared out - all of this is yours. Fetch out of the warehouse, please'. Only it never made it there, did it? 'Cos somebody stuffed it into my room.

The punchline? None of it actually belonged to me.

Books
I've read three books recently. One, a blast from the past; one, a waste of my time (largely); and one, about a walk in the woods. The first in the list was The Wonderful Flight to the Mushroom Planet by Eleanor Cameron.  When I was younger (I don't recall my actual age - 8? 9?), I was mad for Mushroom Planet books. They are all mostly out of print now and considered collectible. I don't think libraries have them anymore - not when they can fetch hundreds on Amazon.com.

The second in the list was Help Me, I'm Irish by Ray Hamill. The excerpt I'd read was amusing - seriously. I thought I'd stumbled over a gem. And then it arrived, and...well, I realise I'm never to judge a book by its cover, but the instant the thing was out of the box and into my hands I thought 'oh...this is a vanity pressing'. Now then, I've read a vanity pressing book before...and it wasn't terribly well-written as far as its language crafting was concerned. But the story that the woman told (she was a homesteader in Alaska in the 60s) was so unique and fascinating that I ignored the shortcomings. This thing by Ray Hamill? My. Somebody should have stopped you, mate. Seriously. He could have made it a genuine autobiography (rather than inventing a character and hiding behind him), and it would have had more merit. But. He didn't do that, and...he didn't exactly have a story to tell most of the time. And he includes this preface which is lengthy and too explanatory and...he insists upon using 'damn' when it should be 'damned' - and that gets up my nose. Oh, and he writes in eye dialect for his Irish characters. It's a spike to the head. Alright, they're from Dublin, we get it. Sure, jeez.

I'm going to foist the book off on somebody else tonight. Somebody who I suspect will appreciate it far more than myself. :|

The third in the list was A Walk in the Woods (see, told you) by Bill Bryson. In it, he tells the story of the time that he and his mate hiked the Appalachian Trail just for the craic. At the very end of the book, the publisher had a list of his other works, which I plan to read. Highly entertaining, and I learnt that a bear will eat you if you take a Snickers bar into the woods. So don't do that. I recommend it for those of you in need of a bit of non-fiction.

It's even a longer way to Tipperary, now
It's true. The Tipp is shutting. Tim, the chap who took it over from Martin all those years ago, sent round a message to the effect of 'we've had a good run, but'. I'm dismayed. Seriously. The Tipp afforded the local Irish scene a fantastic place to play. People were encouraged to come out for the ceol as well as the craic. Sure, I have spent more time of late at Trinity Hall, but that's largely 'cos I had sort of a regular gig there.

The original Tipperary was my first seisiun and where I met [livejournal.com profile] shaddowshoes . I've seen it through all of its iterations and owners, and we've lost something needful here. It was a noteworthy thing to have played the Tipp. I'm really pleased to say that I have done, and I'm terribly sorry to see it go.

Project Peaches
I've made a few contacts in Atlanta. [livejournal.com profile] shaddowshoes and I are going out to look round in a fortnight. We'll spend our tenth anniversary there, which is a bit bittersweet. I've, sight unseen, decided to look for a flat in Vinings. It's near to the river (one block of flats has got a fishing pier and a place to put in a canoe or kayak - I worry that it's entirely too costly to live there, but I am so intrigued), it seems a cosy place, I like the sound of the name 'Vinings', and it's not so far from the city proper that I'll spend the rest of my days stuck in traffic. I've heard that the traffic in Atlanta is horrid, but it's fairly rotten here as well, so... Who knows, right?

I've made myself a Google map with colour-coded 'pins' in to show where I plan to look. I've also got a list of flats, &c saved to a web site, so I've been doing rather a bit of work on that score. I've yet to begin packing, 'cos... sigh. I don't think that needs explanation, really.

And with that, I'm heading off to seisiun.

Slán go foill...
youngraven: (Erk!)
The fellow in the office next door is having an embarrassing chat on the phone about why his career is stalling out. I hesitate to say that he's whinging, though his voice is taking on a pinched, nasal quality. I also hesitate to say that it's a conversation that he shouldn't be having. Only I wish I couldn't hear it. :S

Jeez. I hope I'm not as audible when I'm in the midst of phone meetings (and I've got one every day now). The walls here are thin as paper. At least two days out of the week, I work at home, and then my only worry is that one of the cats will miaow at me at a crucial point, and everybody will henceforth refer to me as 'The Cat Lady'.

Erk.
youngraven: (in flames)
Dear Most Exalted Nearly Highest Fearless Leader,

Would you kindly explain to me why it's only now that you've seen fit to cough up an outline to the presentation that I've been at creating for the past week or so? I mean, I'm on version 3 now - and you're telling us 'here's how I want it all to go'. You've 'had a few thoughts' says you. When? Only now? Did you not think that would be a great lot more useful last Monday? Perhaps it's paranoia on my part, but I tend to scent a certain amount of sabotage whenever somebody in an oversight position does this sort of thing. I mean, sure it's grand that we're getting it now rather than a day before we're to present. Alright, I'll give you that, but bloody hell, most of the work (I'd thought) had been done.

Evidently, I was a wee bit mistaken.

Gan grá,
Mise

Bloof

Apr. 23rd, 2008 03:00 pm
youngraven: (och)
Lesson learnt? Dress for the office, even if one is working at home. Doing so will avoid the mad dash to tart oneself up and pelt for the door when one's internet service crashes.

So much for the time I saved. :|
youngraven: (bah)
I've spent most of the whole of my day at:

  • Creating a Flash movie.

  • Doing! Something! with html.


Two things I do not know how to do are:

  • Create a Flash movie.

  • Anything! At all! with html.


The Flash (aaaaah saviour of the universe) bit was my own decision, really. Somebody on my committee announced that (well...it was the leader of the committee, actually) a 'web banner ad' was needed to announce the committee's new bit of space on the intranet. Since I've jumped ship into another team, I've had precious little time to give to my committee mates, so I volunteered (and me thinking I could get by with an animated .gif. Ha!1 Ha!1 Ha!1 The millenium's come - where am I?).

Amidst the furrowing of my brow, the cursing, and the dancing in my chair, I learnt these things:

  • Text in Flash will not fade unless said text is converted to a symbol.

  • That little icon - the triangle-shaped one with the '!' in means something.

  • iStockphoto.com won't suffer me to search its thingummies.

  • I should have to re-create the entire page in Dreamweaver at any rate; doing so firstly in PowerPoint is foolish.


Vaguely, it means this thing that you wish to be doing? Sadly, it cannot work. Your efforts are wrought of the Fail. Grr. dancety-dancety-dancety. make dinosaury-clawing motion at screen.
Specifically, it means that two symbols on the same layer can't be convinced to do two different things at the same time in a motion tween. Sure, it seems as though that should be a foregone bleeding confusion, but I was so addled up with MotherofJesusIt'sFLASHBuggerBuggerBuggerEep that Logic was something that happened to the fellow in the office next door.

I'm sure he heard me. I should take him a plant or something.

God's teeth, it's half-five.

Last I heard, the Flash was being shoved onto the intranet site by another designer. Ten minutes ago, she sent me a message to wail that said intranet was saying 'hrm...shan't' whenever she tried to upload. Sure, it's been more splat than whee.

The html...I don't think it'll implode. Fortunately, it's now been turned over to one more skilled than I. Why my images are blurry and nasty looking...I suppose I should dive back into it and try to sort that one out. :S

I'd really prefer to go home now. :)
youngraven: (in flames)
I AM: Avoiding the rest of my Eejit Project
I HAVE: A bruise on the palm of my right hand as a result of said Eejit Project.
I WISH: That I had been successful in persuading the girl who saw fit to request 250 saddle-stitched books (at the dead last possible minute) to instead take the lot of it to a proper print shop. Once I've given them to her, she'll wish the very same.
I HATE: That we haven't got a folding/stitching machine.
I MISS: Our long-departed copy centre goddess (no, she isn't dead - she's merely not here).
I FEAR: We shall never be allowed to replace her, and thus I shall be stuck in Copy Centre Hell.
I HEAR: A multitude of people murmurring that I 'could have said "no"'.
I SEARCH: For a way to explain how this is not truth without uttering the words 'eff off'.
I WONDER: How long Girl has known that she had this burning need, and why didn't I know about it Monday?
I LOVE: That at least the colour printer will make my covers for me.
I ALWAYS: Rant when something vexes me.
I AM NOT: A terribly patient wee poppet at the moment.
I DANCE: Whenever I staple my thumb. Thus far, this has not occurred. I've got 51 more books to stitch, which makes for a total of 102 more opportunities to place my digits in harm's way. I have, however, stapled thro' my sleeve.
I SING: Angry protest songs about colour copies whilst plotting the grisly downfall of consultants everywhere.
I CRY: Oh, will it never end and tear at my hair in a manner appropriate for the expression of woe. Never mind that if I pulled myself off of my arse I'd have done with most of it by now.
I AM NOT ALWAYS: This poxy disgruntled.
I WRITE: Answers to mindless memes in order to shirk unpleasant tasks.
I CONFUSE: People when I try to explain to them that the Saddlestitch Fairy never visits this office:
Them: 'Haven't you got a machine to do that for you?'
Me: 'Have you got a helicopter?'
Them: 'Erm...no...?'
Me: 'Likewise, I haven't got a machine to Do This For Me.'
Them: *blink* 'Oh. Okay...'
I SHOULD: Have done with the bloody mess already - the day is Going Away.
MY FATHER IS: A pensioner, and thus no longer must endure such silly aggro.
MY MOTHER IS: Also a pensioner, and thus no longer must endure such silly aggro; however, she has got to put up with my Dad.
WHAT UPSETS YOU: Knowing that after the stitching comes the folding.
youngraven: (in flames)
Got my laptop back.

The 40GB hard drive that was full to brimming (with Outlook archives, it would seem, not mp3s) has been replaced with a 30GB hard drive.

Go on, have a guess.

Dead in the gorramned water, me. I am vexed. I can't load my cursed printer drivers because I've no space left for them. What part of Graphic Designer can be interpreted as does not need to print?

I've been sporting about it - I have. I've confined my more creative streams of invective to barely intelligible mumblings. But I crossed my limit two hours ago, a chairde, and I really want to eat a brain.

Want? No, I need to eat a brain.
youngraven: (och)
...isn't any sort of guarantee. Technology is fallable. Since technology is fallable, it's always best to find another place to hide what might be near and dear to one's heart.

Or, in English, make a back up copy of your effing personal files. Why? 'Cos hard drives oft come with expiry dates that, unlike bottles of milk, aren't written where one can easily find them. Nonetheless, they do exist.

So...so, my office laptop ground itself to a wheezing (well, not exactly), squealling (yes, actually) halt last night. It's down IT now, having its brains scraped of my detritus. I've been assured that my coveted personal files (my preciousss) will be spared; however, things do happen so I'm not holding my breath.

I've told told our illustrious IT denizens about the likely cause of my laptop's sudden coughing up of hard drive, but I'm sure they'll work it out. 'Cos it's effing obvious, that's why. Somebody (sure, we'll not say who) cluttered up the aforementioned hard drive with mp3s so that she could listen to Every Song That Has Ever Been Written as she pissed about on the Net worked. Some people, I've heard, are content to whistle. Ah, no, never me.

Amongst the things I may have lost are the files I'd saved to include in my portfolio ('cos some people request electronic copies). It isn't as though their irretrievable, but...Jesusgod, do you honestly expect I'll remember which projects I worked on three years ago (i.e., before the firm instituted design guidelines that cut our creativity off at the knees)? Well, here's to hoping, innit?

Slan, youse. I'm off to the boozer.

Reprieve?

Apr. 11th, 2006 10:41 am
youngraven: (bang!)
I had a look at my mobile, and it would appear that it phoned the Graphics line on Sunday, rather than Friday night. This isn't to say that it didn't happen twice, but for my own sanity, I'm choosing to believe that it was only the once. Chances are, it wasn't even myself who was talking. It seems strange that there should be two conversations regarding pathological liars in one week end, but this odd sort of synchronicity often happens to me.

So. Sigh of relief? Perhaps.

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