The Endless Days of the Over-Caffeinated and Under-Slept. (An Endless Entry, Cut for Comfort.)
I really have no idea how long it has been since last I posted. What I do know is that my sintax will certainly be off because I feel like I've been awake since Wednesday.
THE JOB (UN)FAIR:
A miserable affair, by all counts. I took fifteen resumes, gave away seven, hope three of those takers will call me, expect zero results. I also wore my comfortable heels to the event, but was forced to walk half way around Invesco Field, plus another half mile off the grounds to find the damn train station, then another half mile home from my stop. I shouldn't even have bothered to dress up - more than half the people there were in jeans or other clothing much too casual for job interviews. The only plus was a free resume consultation, which showed me that I should be presenting a functional resume. Except it seems employers hate them. What's a girl to do? Answer: bandage the blisters and wear flats.
I did get an interview on Thursday, but it wasn't from the job fair. I got it because my realtor's son told me I could put his name down on an application at a bank. The interview went reasonably well, but I'm not holding my breath for anything. I am too uncomfortable, self-conscious, and honest at interviews. Plus, I'd be the oldest person there, excepting only the branch manager. I'm 28. I'm going to call them tomorrow, anyway.
THE PUPPY EXTRAVAGANZA:
Somehow, we agreed to watch over a friend's dogs at his house as he was out of town this weekend. Normally, one wouldn't think this should be such a process, but the sheer number of dogs made this a daunting task: our friend has seven porky yorkies, three of which get special food at least once a day, and one of which gets three different medicines at various intervals. It was like dealing with a tribe of tiny, geriatric, extremely savage Ewoks. Poor A actually had to go over to the house to spend nights with them because they're all neurotic, and would possibly have destroyed the entire property with excessive urination and nervous vomiting.
In domestic puppy news, Jake and Elwood met some mini dachshund friends at baelarion's house on Friday. Elwood and Duffy, both of the male persuasion, spent some time play-fighting and then molesting each other, though neither really seemed to mind. Jake was a total chicken and let Sputnik -- who is practically half his weight -- beat up on him without any retribution, but later they held several adorable matches of tug-o-war over wood mulch scraps. baelarion and I thoroughly enjoyed the quadruple-dog cuteness, and I expect we'll hold another dachshund camaraderie conference in the future.
THE COMMUTE:
Only having one vehicle made this weekend very interesting, what with the Ewoks and my agreeing to help khasael and her husband move their stuff from Boulder to Littleton yesterday. I guess when A and I made these engagements, neither of us consulted a calendar to see if they were on the same weekend. Since the distribution of multiple controlled substances to various Ewoks required three pages of hand-written notes, and also because I needed the truck the next morning, I drove A to the Ewoks' house on Friday after he got off work. So, since A works until 1:00am, I didn't get home until nearly 3:00am, and I doubt I fell asleep any before 4:00am, and then I got up again at 7:00am. Coffee was mandatory.
The moving of stuff went well, but then I had to get A to work. I nearly got lost on my way to pick him up, and then I got myself found again, and then I had to run a red light because the road was under construction and the light had been reset to NEVER turn green. Ever. I thought I might have been hallucinating due to lack of sleep, but then I watched about 20 drivers in front of me run the light, and I suspect there was at least a quarter mile worth of other cars backed up behind me that were forced to do the same or sit in traffic for eternity like that Shel Silverstein poem. I made A drive the way back.
THE RULE OF 72:
I also attended a Women's Finance Conference, sponsored by Five Rings Financial. And, despite how incredibly dull it sounds and how excessively tired I was, I found it illuminating and entertaining. Plus, they served me good food and free wine and chocolate. They are holding a variety of free classes on insurance, investing, and general finance, so if any local ladies are also interested leave me a comment and I'll send you the schedule. But anyone can contact Five Rings Financial and receive the benefit of a fiscal evaluation; they endorse the "teach rather than sell" concept, and I find it refreshing.
So, the Rule of 72 is as follows: if you have an account that is earning compound interest, take 72 and divide it by the interest rate you are getting. The number you get is the number of years it will take for your money to double. Interesting, yes? Also, McCain is 72 years old, I believe. He'd have to get at least a 12% compound interest rate to see his money double before he passes the average life expectancy for an American male. Yes, I saw most of the debate. While I don't think either side made fools of themselves, my major observation is this: Obama uses logical and rational appeals. McCain usually begins with logic and then moves into emotional appeals, mainly patriotic ploys, in order to try to make Obama look cold and "elitist." In other words, Obama supporters saw much to be pleased with, but so did McCain supporters. I doubt it pushed the fence-sitters in either direction. Of one thing I am absolutely certain: Palin is a blithering idiot. Dear GOD, Tina Fey practically reads the transcript of the Katie Couric interview on SNL. And here I thought SNL had long stopped being funny anymore.
THE ANTI-SLEEP:
Frithuwesundsatnersday was so utterly long that when I think about yesterday, all I can remember is being wretchedly tired and waiting impatiently for sleep, even when I got into bed at a very modest hour (like 6:00pm). It was much as if my brain were larger than my head and extended outside of my skull in an invisible halo, while all the actual physical parts were enlarged too, but mashed together inside my skull; and all the synapses were LightBright, fireworks and fused circuits. Thinking seemed claustro-photophobic. Which is obviously made up. However, that waiting and thrashing about in the sheets presented my exhausted brain with a concept on how to frame a novel I've been wanting to write. Well, really, it's a short story that I wrote that wanted to be a novel, but I didn't know how. I'm still fuzzy on the exactly-how-each-moment details, but now there's a plan. The rest will come eventually.
And yes, rest will come. Eventually.
THE JOB (UN)FAIR:
A miserable affair, by all counts. I took fifteen resumes, gave away seven, hope three of those takers will call me, expect zero results. I also wore my comfortable heels to the event, but was forced to walk half way around Invesco Field, plus another half mile off the grounds to find the damn train station, then another half mile home from my stop. I shouldn't even have bothered to dress up - more than half the people there were in jeans or other clothing much too casual for job interviews. The only plus was a free resume consultation, which showed me that I should be presenting a functional resume. Except it seems employers hate them. What's a girl to do? Answer: bandage the blisters and wear flats.
I did get an interview on Thursday, but it wasn't from the job fair. I got it because my realtor's son told me I could put his name down on an application at a bank. The interview went reasonably well, but I'm not holding my breath for anything. I am too uncomfortable, self-conscious, and honest at interviews. Plus, I'd be the oldest person there, excepting only the branch manager. I'm 28. I'm going to call them tomorrow, anyway.
THE PUPPY EXTRAVAGANZA:
Somehow, we agreed to watch over a friend's dogs at his house as he was out of town this weekend. Normally, one wouldn't think this should be such a process, but the sheer number of dogs made this a daunting task: our friend has seven porky yorkies, three of which get special food at least once a day, and one of which gets three different medicines at various intervals. It was like dealing with a tribe of tiny, geriatric, extremely savage Ewoks. Poor A actually had to go over to the house to spend nights with them because they're all neurotic, and would possibly have destroyed the entire property with excessive urination and nervous vomiting.
In domestic puppy news, Jake and Elwood met some mini dachshund friends at baelarion's house on Friday. Elwood and Duffy, both of the male persuasion, spent some time play-fighting and then molesting each other, though neither really seemed to mind. Jake was a total chicken and let Sputnik -- who is practically half his weight -- beat up on him without any retribution, but later they held several adorable matches of tug-o-war over wood mulch scraps. baelarion and I thoroughly enjoyed the quadruple-dog cuteness, and I expect we'll hold another dachshund camaraderie conference in the future.
THE COMMUTE:
Only having one vehicle made this weekend very interesting, what with the Ewoks and my agreeing to help khasael and her husband move their stuff from Boulder to Littleton yesterday. I guess when A and I made these engagements, neither of us consulted a calendar to see if they were on the same weekend. Since the distribution of multiple controlled substances to various Ewoks required three pages of hand-written notes, and also because I needed the truck the next morning, I drove A to the Ewoks' house on Friday after he got off work. So, since A works until 1:00am, I didn't get home until nearly 3:00am, and I doubt I fell asleep any before 4:00am, and then I got up again at 7:00am. Coffee was mandatory.
The moving of stuff went well, but then I had to get A to work. I nearly got lost on my way to pick him up, and then I got myself found again, and then I had to run a red light because the road was under construction and the light had been reset to NEVER turn green. Ever. I thought I might have been hallucinating due to lack of sleep, but then I watched about 20 drivers in front of me run the light, and I suspect there was at least a quarter mile worth of other cars backed up behind me that were forced to do the same or sit in traffic for eternity like that Shel Silverstein poem. I made A drive the way back.
THE RULE OF 72:
I also attended a Women's Finance Conference, sponsored by Five Rings Financial. And, despite how incredibly dull it sounds and how excessively tired I was, I found it illuminating and entertaining. Plus, they served me good food and free wine and chocolate. They are holding a variety of free classes on insurance, investing, and general finance, so if any local ladies are also interested leave me a comment and I'll send you the schedule. But anyone can contact Five Rings Financial and receive the benefit of a fiscal evaluation; they endorse the "teach rather than sell" concept, and I find it refreshing.
So, the Rule of 72 is as follows: if you have an account that is earning compound interest, take 72 and divide it by the interest rate you are getting. The number you get is the number of years it will take for your money to double. Interesting, yes? Also, McCain is 72 years old, I believe. He'd have to get at least a 12% compound interest rate to see his money double before he passes the average life expectancy for an American male. Yes, I saw most of the debate. While I don't think either side made fools of themselves, my major observation is this: Obama uses logical and rational appeals. McCain usually begins with logic and then moves into emotional appeals, mainly patriotic ploys, in order to try to make Obama look cold and "elitist." In other words, Obama supporters saw much to be pleased with, but so did McCain supporters. I doubt it pushed the fence-sitters in either direction. Of one thing I am absolutely certain: Palin is a blithering idiot. Dear GOD, Tina Fey practically reads the transcript of the Katie Couric interview on SNL. And here I thought SNL had long stopped being funny anymore.
THE ANTI-SLEEP:
Frithuwesundsatnersday was so utterly long that when I think about yesterday, all I can remember is being wretchedly tired and waiting impatiently for sleep, even when I got into bed at a very modest hour (like 6:00pm). It was much as if my brain were larger than my head and extended outside of my skull in an invisible halo, while all the actual physical parts were enlarged too, but mashed together inside my skull; and all the synapses were LightBright, fireworks and fused circuits. Thinking seemed claustro-photophobic. Which is obviously made up. However, that waiting and thrashing about in the sheets presented my exhausted brain with a concept on how to frame a novel I've been wanting to write. Well, really, it's a short story that I wrote that wanted to be a novel, but I didn't know how. I'm still fuzzy on the exactly-how-each-moment details, but now there's a plan. The rest will come eventually.
And yes, rest will come. Eventually.