Avogadro's office supplies
May. 18th, 2007 02:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
whitereflectionToday is a day of absolute slack and bored. Just can't seem to get motivated. I'm not even listening to my iPod (WTH? >_< ) I did a bit earlier, now I just kinda am so veg, so white noise/static in the head, that I can't be bothered. Tired b/c of being up too late, and went out with Kel for lunch at Jason's Deli, so I'm rapidly sinking into food coma. (Oh good lordnbutter, the baklava there, though..)
I spent the morning--mostly--sorting paperclips. Sorting. Paperclips. See, I'm finally packing up my desk for the Mon/Tues move, and I have accumulated like five different supplies of paperclips. Every time I'm moved to a new desk, I inherit someone else's, like some heirloom being passed down from generation to generation. I think this desk area alone had an accumulated supply from like four different previous people. This place is where paperclips come to spawn and die. Little wire salmon, metal mayflies. (Ha ha, so poetic for Friday!brain)
So I sorted them. Big and little (big ones I actually use for the financial reports, little because...well because you just can't *not* have little paperclips). One container for each. The rest were ruthlessly weeded as if some sort of paperclip Survivor and the judges were brutal. Voted off the island = trash can d00m. Like the weak and sickly (mangled, bent, not-shiny) were being culled from the herd worthy of some documentary that'd traumatize small children and frighten them away from the Discovery Channel for years (until they're teenagers and mom won't let them rent Faces of Death 69).
But yes, paperclips. (And my desk hour, and talking to Kel for awhile). I graduated 13th in my class in high school, summa cum laude with a BS in college...and now, paperclips. We have met the Dilbert, the Milton, and he is us.
(Couple hours since I wrote this, really no improvement. Yay, me! I did, however, weed 22 icons when I was on the help desk. That counts as productivity and success, rite? :| )
[And and: and then a coworker from the section I used to be in was talking to coworker on the right and I about a teenage Kurdish girl being stoned to death by those in her village--and how all the male bystanders were taking fucking cel phone pictures/videos and now it's like...fuck paperclips. Fuck the world.
Yet at the same time I have the biggest urge to just go out and nap in the sun and the breeze and read some more On the Road. Would just go, should have hours ago for how much I've wasted today, but supervisor and coworker on the left've already taken today off; supervisor would freak to have the department any shorter. Even if nothing's going on. At all.]
I spent the morning--mostly--sorting paperclips. Sorting. Paperclips. See, I'm finally packing up my desk for the Mon/Tues move, and I have accumulated like five different supplies of paperclips. Every time I'm moved to a new desk, I inherit someone else's, like some heirloom being passed down from generation to generation. I think this desk area alone had an accumulated supply from like four different previous people. This place is where paperclips come to spawn and die. Little wire salmon, metal mayflies. (Ha ha, so poetic for Friday!brain)
So I sorted them. Big and little (big ones I actually use for the financial reports, little because...well because you just can't *not* have little paperclips). One container for each. The rest were ruthlessly weeded as if some sort of paperclip Survivor and the judges were brutal. Voted off the island = trash can d00m. Like the weak and sickly (mangled, bent, not-shiny) were being culled from the herd worthy of some documentary that'd traumatize small children and frighten them away from the Discovery Channel for years (until they're teenagers and mom won't let them rent Faces of Death 69).
But yes, paperclips. (And my desk hour, and talking to Kel for awhile). I graduated 13th in my class in high school, summa cum laude with a BS in college...and now, paperclips. We have met the Dilbert, the Milton, and he is us.
(Couple hours since I wrote this, really no improvement. Yay, me! I did, however, weed 22 icons when I was on the help desk. That counts as productivity and success, rite? :| )
[And and: and then a coworker from the section I used to be in was talking to coworker on the right and I about a teenage Kurdish girl being stoned to death by those in her village--and how all the male bystanders were taking fucking cel phone pictures/videos and now it's like...fuck paperclips. Fuck the world.
Yet at the same time I have the biggest urge to just go out and nap in the sun and the breeze and read some more On the Road. Would just go, should have hours ago for how much I've wasted today, but supervisor and coworker on the left've already taken today off; supervisor would freak to have the department any shorter. Even if nothing's going on. At all.]
