notmypresident: (Lost In Space)
I guess it's a little sad that I've spent at least a moment or two during each of the past two days at the new job thinking about... my steady paycheck.  I love court reporting, so there's that.  But I have to admit that the notion of getting a full check every two weeks is just about the only reason I took this job.  Well, that — and the fact that in six months I will no longer have to pay $500 a month for health insurance. Christ, that's nearly the cost of sharing a two-bedroom apartment with someone in San Francisco!

Tomorrow I'm headed for my first real gig at the Hall of Justice, something I'm not looking forward to.  Folks say there's a camaraderie at The Hall that's absent in other places.  Of course, it's a camaraderie borne of necessity, given the atmosphere of the place.  The department I'm in should be fairly manic during the morning session and then light (if anything at all) in the afternoon.  One of the perks of this job is that I'm able to edit during my downtime, so that I'm not taking any work home with me.

My sleep patterns have been chaotic thanks to the anxiety of this new job, but a side effect of waking up every few hours is that I'm remembering my dreams. I'm constantly amazed by the incredible amount of detail that my imagination can conjure.  The other night I dreamt I was visiting London in the winter, and I can still see the slushy sidewalks and streets with buses covered with a light dusting of snow.  Somewhat surprisingly, in my dream I ran into [ profile] double_ohsteven, and we walked arm-in-arm for support along the slippery night streets. He was smiling as always, and I remember thinking how reassuring it was to see a friendly and familiar face so far from home.

Last night's hard-core sex dream was light years from the London dream.  It was one of those dreams where I would have preferred not to suddenly wake up, but there I was.  At least my sheets were still dry.

Time for the Favorite Bear of the Moment.  Seeing this pic, my first thought was that the friggin' thermometer behind this guy must have been broken, 'cause he is way hotter than 65°!!!

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notmypresident: (Elton "Caribou")
There was only a small chance that I wouldn't make it through today, so it's no surprise that I'm still alive and breathing.  My first day on the job as part of The System was designed to be User Friendly -- I was assigned to two different court rooms a.m./p.m. that always have short sessions.  But it was still a vastly different experience than that of a deposition.  Most of the people I met were friendly enough, though there was still a bit of that Civil Service I don't haffta be nice cause ya can't fire my ass attitude.  I'm told that backstabbing has progressed to an art form at the courthouse, but I really don't give a damn.  I'm just in it for the money and the benefits.

It will be strange to have (yet again) a routine of getting up and going to work every day.  One of the major perks of being an independent was that I often had several weekdays "free"; not so now, although I'm sure the person making work assignments will take me off calendar for a few days just to show who's boss.  We'll see. 

I had a brief conversation this afternoon with the roommate/ex.  I feel intensely sad over his situation of not being able to find a place to live.  He's really trapped by a number of restrictions that he has no control over.  But the fact is that he started this whole "I'm moving out" phase, and there's no backing out.  By either of us, actually.  And somewhat ironically, this new job now means that I can comfortably cover the rent by myself once he moves out.  Even so, it's just an unfortunate situation all around. 

Since I've posted a few celebrities for the Favorite Bear of the Moment pic recently, how about one more?  This time out is the lead singer for Staind, a group I know of only because this guy is so hot, hot, hot.

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notmypresident: (Twitchy Tina)
With anxiety growing about tomorrow's new start, I desperately wanted to turn off my mind this afternoon and just sit back to enjoy a classic movie -- preferably one that was an epic and lasting, oh, say about four hours.  What I came up with instead was:

The Stand is probably the best adaptation of a Stephen King novel -- which also happens to be my favorite work of his — but its six-hour running time limits the opportunities I have to enjoy it in its entirety.  Except for a day like today when I just need to tune out for an extended period of time, that is.  I really do think this 1994 miniseries was an extraordinary accomplishment, even if the last act falls apart completely.  I'm very moved by more than a few moments, and I've always thought that the performance by Ruby Dee was spot on.  It's a shame that early CGI effects were used for situations that should have been left to the imagination, but hey — they probably thought it was necessary to attract viewers.  But I just spent six hours revisiting "The Stand," and never once did I look at the clock wondering when it would be over (even with the cheesy CGI effects).

So now I'm left with calls to friends to express just how scared shitless I am about tomorrow.  And of course, being good friends, they not only realize that "You'll do fine" is the thing to say but also that there's nothing they can really say to help.  And so long as they know I appreciate their support regardless, everything is fine.  I certainly know that I'll make it through tomorrow, but that doesn't help relieve the dread.  I mean, what if some showoff judge decides to read the Declaration of Independence into the record at 300 words per minute???  Yeah, I know that's not going to happen — but my brain refuses to let me off the hook.

I came across the trailer for The Transporter 2 tonight while surfing the Internet.  I know that (a) Jason Statham isn't usually my type, and (b) I've used his pic once before.  But I found myself lusting for him all over again while viewing the trailer, and that's why he's my Favorite (Sort-Of) Bear of the Moment.  Mind you, I've never actually seen a movie he's been in, but the trailers do nicely.

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notmypresident: (Scream and Scream Again)
I'm thinking that, although there are no outward signs of it, there's a little anxiety brewing over the start of my new job tomorrow.  How else to explain one of last night's dreams:

I'm in a crowd of people who are just standing about.  I reach up to scratch my head and notice a small hole in the top of my scalp near the back, just where the bone seam is.  I think to myself "Huh, I never noticed that before."  I absently finger the small hole and notice that there seems to be a pimple-like formation at the bottom.  I look around to see if anyone is watching me.  No one is, so I push down on the pimple and it pops.  But as it does so, I feel the top part of my scalp move forward just a bit.  There is now a clearly defined gap between the top part of my scalp and where the back edge begins.  Again, no one is watching.  Wondering if this isn't perhaps somehow normal, I feign a reason to inadvertently touch the scalp of someone standing near me.  Nope — their scalp is perfectly normal.  With a sense of fear, I force myself to wake up.

Analyze that, Sigmund Freud!

Why can't I just dream about things like the Favorite Bear of the Moment???  Oh, that's right:  my brain isn't my best friend.  Ah, well.

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notmypresident: (Taking Aim)
It's been an interesting couple of days for me as I gear up for my new job as a court reporter with the San Francisco Superior Court.  In many ways, my distaste for bureaucracy has been made even stronger by one or two things that have happened.  Being told to show up for an appointment (as opposed to scheduling a mutually convenient time) at 8:00 a.m. to sign papers that had "taken quite a bit of time to prepare" was one moment that irked me, particularly since a "bit" of time was exactly how much time the person had spent to "prepare" them.  And why, in this age of computers, folks still have to spend a half hour manually re-entering the exact same information on different forms is beyond me.  Sheesh.  But even the supervisor must have sensed my frustration, for she told me at one point to "hang tough" for another day or so and I wouldn't have to bother with any of it ever again.  I wanted to get her words down "on the record," but my steno machine wasn't handy.

So I start Monday.  I have, according to several folks, a fairly easy schedule for the first week.  I spent today over at the Hall of Justice, which is the Mother of all assignments (see further: Your Worst Nightmare).  Stephen King must have visited this place for inspiration, for it truly has a bad vibe.  Even the workers are like zombies, as if the place had sucked every last ounce of their souls from their now-hollow shells.  The woman in the fingerprinting department actually shuffled as she walked about slowly, though she did stop short of muttering "Braaaaaains" under her breath.  I observed three different courtrooms to get a "feel" for the process (which is quite different from depositions), and I came away feeling a bit more comfortable.  There's also the knowledge that the bar is set quite a bit lower when it comes to the final product, though I will undoubtedly spend many nights worrying over a transcript that no one else cares about.

So yet another major change in my life in a relatively short span of time.  Change is good, right?  Right?

Oh, let's just get (it) on with the Favorite Bear of the Moment...

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