Doctors, Craft, Idling, and what they can do for you

Good morning, good afternoon, good evening. If the weather is any indication, this is going to be one screwed up Summer and Winter is not looking any better. Way to go, humans. You screwed up the entire planetary weather system, speeding it up to what it was going to look like eons from now.

Well, I just got through with season one of Doctor Who. Not for the first time, mind you, but in one successive swoop. How did I withstand that much Christopher Eccleston? I didn’t: I melted like the gooey Doctor fangirl I am. I’m plotting possible fic as we speak. Sue me.

On the other hand, I finally understand that whole first season for what it was. It was the mother of all plot arcs. I’m still seeing over-arcing themes and odd traces of personality that I would usually have picked up the first time through. (You know, unlike an American or Canadian series, or a cartoon in general. British shows are just like that; heady, thinky, and good at hiding it.) Like… you know how the Doctor always complains when the Companion is in trouble? AT least once a regeneration, twice a season if he still has to warm up to the hapless, tag-along human. It’s not that he’s complaining directly to them, he’s just complaining in general. Looking up at God or who- or whatever and saying, “Oh, really? Was that necessary?”

And I probably took a level in ‘craft: writing’ just for downloading it, let alone watching it front-to-back and understanding most of it.

I needed all that vegging out, because yesterday was not fun nor funny.

I’m not lazy. I’m not anti-social. I’m disinterested. There’s a difference. Huge difference. The reason I don’t go all gung-ho when it comes to… anything that doesn’t involve writing, drawing, or TV is because, guess what? I’m not particularly interested. I’m just not. Wrapping this general-ness back around to an actual subject, I went job trawling yesterday. *shudder*

The bus is always fun. I either find the wrong seat or someone makes it the wrong seat. SEPTA also seemed to think that it was ok to freeze their passengers to death. We’re having a chilly swing in temperature, and you, the driver, does nothing about it? Bravo. All and all, I barely got out of that without a sour attitude.

Took a few deep breaths, and then walked across a small parking lot to an Aldi (aka, cheap German food. Well, not regional German food, but, you know, a German company). I like Aldis. They’re affordable, they keep a nice variety, and if you can get past the fact that there are few-to-no brand names about, you’re set. Put it this way: 100 bucks brings about three-quarters-a-cart of good-quality groceries home from Wal-Path-Mart-Fresh, right? You’d have to fill a cart and a basket or two to have spent $100 in an Aldi. I’ve seen it. It’s insane. And it’s all edible.

In any case, I jam-it through an isle, up to the front, and see a line. A nice, long line. I almost thank whatever-omnipresent-creature-you-bow-to that it wasn’t a heavy shopping day, because that bagging table had little-to-no access. Customers get testy at that sort of thing.

The process was, fill out an application, get in line. Of course, for me, it was grab an application, have fat hussy sows bust in front of you, then get in line.

*deep, cleansing breath…*

There was, of course, the loose, random, nervous job line banter. I’m just glad I didn’t get caught in it and only had to listen to it. Random things: kids, grand-kids, the chick ahead of them, the chicks behind (which I didn’t appreciate), the ‘job market’ (a phrase that deserves a rant by semantics alone). By about three people seeing the nice lady at the table and leaving, I could feel the steam brewing out of my ears.

So I spied the back-end of a pad of paper, left discarded on the table, and drew this:


And to think, I hadn’t watched Howl’s Moving Castle or Mononoke in ages…

I suddenly felt better. In one ten minute sketch session, standing up, in a supermarket, waiting to be judged on ‘job experience’ and ‘availability’, I realized that I have other talents and the world wasn’t going to end if I wasn’t working. It was going to get harder to grab a meal, but it wasn’t going to end me.

Five minutes and a friendly chat with Miss Hiring Manager later, I’m back outside. Lovely, gorgeous, but chilly, outside.

It was a ten minute wait for another lack-luster bus ride, then it was a ten or fifteen minute ride to Broad and Olney (Which for some reason is ‘Awl-uh-knee’ and not ‘Awl-knee’. Go fig…). Mom had colorfully mentioned that there was a counter-girl opening at a fast food joint. Which roughly translated to ‘do everything but cut onions’ to me. Which might have been fine, if the place was open, or even hiring any more.

It’s not like Mom has never sent me on a wild goose chases, it’s just that they’re far and in between and always irritating, even when I suspect them for what they are. Wild goose chases. Mostly because I go anyway. Because I’m the good child. -_-;

So, yeah, that was my day. I’m still clawing for energy after that. I slept for a while after I came in, until it was dark. I watched Doctor Who, ate a meatloaf sandwich, and slept some more. I am doing nothing until tomorrow. I don’t care. You can’t make me do stuff. So, neyh!…>XP

Thank you, and have a nice day.

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