In anticipation of the totally pointless annual tradition that is the "Employee Review", my job requires us to fill out a "preappraisal form" with a bunch of asinine questions that will supposedly shape the discussion during our review. Below are the answers that I would like to put on my form:
1. Does the attached job description accurately reflect your current duties and responsibilities? If not, please cite any discrepancies.
My job description does not list "getting jerked around by socially-incompetent troglodytes" or "dealing with a manager with the
emotional age and haircut of an 8-year-old as he nervously taps on my cubicle in abject fear of me".
2. What do you consider the strengths of your performance this year?
Some babble about streamlining schedules and getting more organized.
3. Do you have thoughts on how your performance might be strengthened?
I think if I cared more about such important distinctions as whether a sentence should read "in light of" or "in the light of" instead of wanting to do something worthwhile like being a neuroscientist my performance would improve.
4. Are there any other comments regarding your job, your progress, your unit, or the MLA that you wish to make?
I wish to make the comment that I find it despicable that the personal whim of one person can dictate what I can and cannot wear to work, when the spirit of the organization (being non-profit) and the attitude of the office (excepting that one person) obviously are not corporate. If I could wear my jeans I would be a lot less of a malcontent and would probably smile at people more in the hallways, in addition to taking less breaks during my work to play Scramble.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Friday, March 21, 2008
avalanche
The following wreckage was strewn across the wasteland of a gmail chat box that has no one on the other end (you know who you are):
Most of the conversations in my life are with people who leave in the middle of them with no warning and no indication of when they will come back. This will, inevitably, add to my psychosis. Despite understanding that others have demanding jobs that may take precedence over chatting on the computer, the impotent rage that is being built layer upon layer like a core of hot magma in my stomach will no doubt have lasting physical and social repercussions.
I think that there is a general lack of understanding of just HOW MANY words I have in me. There are a lot. Think of the most words you can think of and then double that. And once they start, particularly when someone gets me going on a topic dear to my heart, like Labyrinth, or atrocious 80s music, or the Good Doctor, they don't stop easily. They spew forth from my brain to my mouth with incredible number and alacrity. And one day, all the dammed-up ones from thwarted IM conversations will finally overflow, drowning all of you who lack the etiquette to give me a simple "brb" in the avalanche.
Most of the conversations in my life are with people who leave in the middle of them with no warning and no indication of when they will come back. This will, inevitably, add to my psychosis. Despite understanding that others have demanding jobs that may take precedence over chatting on the computer, the impotent rage that is being built layer upon layer like a core of hot magma in my stomach will no doubt have lasting physical and social repercussions.
I think that there is a general lack of understanding of just HOW MANY words I have in me. There are a lot. Think of the most words you can think of and then double that. And once they start, particularly when someone gets me going on a topic dear to my heart, like Labyrinth, or atrocious 80s music, or the Good Doctor, they don't stop easily. They spew forth from my brain to my mouth with incredible number and alacrity. And one day, all the dammed-up ones from thwarted IM conversations will finally overflow, drowning all of you who lack the etiquette to give me a simple "brb" in the avalanche.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
comparative reality.
Last night Rob and I watched "Margot at the Wedding", which is the new movie from Noah Baumbach, who also did "The Squid and the Whale". I did not remember the connection, and when Rob realized it as he was about to put the movie in, he commented that I had hated "The Squid and the Whale". I didn't remember hating it and, although I found it rather depressing, if asked I probably would have said that I thought it was a good movie.
The reason I bring this up is that it is very strange when you have two people contributing to a collective memory, because in ways you hold each other accountable for your exaggerated reactions to things. Of course, in your own head, these are tempered by time and you don't remember being so drastic in the first place. I think that's what happened last night. It's certainly a head-fuck to be told that the way you think about something is not how you thought you think about it, or at least it wasn't. This is a slippery sucker.
The reason I bring this up is that it is very strange when you have two people contributing to a collective memory, because in ways you hold each other accountable for your exaggerated reactions to things. Of course, in your own head, these are tempered by time and you don't remember being so drastic in the first place. I think that's what happened last night. It's certainly a head-fuck to be told that the way you think about something is not how you thought you think about it, or at least it wasn't. This is a slippery sucker.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
self-efficacy
Well, I don't know what happened. Last night on American Idol, they made a big point of saying that they were expanding the theme and that now instead of just Lennon-McCartney songs, it would be The Beatles. So why'd they do it? I guess they must have read my blog.
Not that it mattered much. Only one person sang a song not penned by Lennon or McCartney. Brooke White (who is affectionately known in my house as "this dingbat") sang "Here Comes the Sun" by George Harrison, which you may or may not know is my favorite song. For that, and for her generally endearing performance and ability to respond to the judges' comments with candor, she got my vote last night.
As for the producers of American Idol, I don't expect them to hand me the credit for steering them away from another week of blundering insult. They are, however, encouraged to continue to read my blog for input on how to improve their show and should feel free to contact me if they need any further assistance. Here's a start: No matter what the theme is, doing it two weeks in a row is ill-advised. If you didn't learn that from last night's less-than-impressive performances, I'm telling you now. Don't do it again.
Not that it mattered much. Only one person sang a song not penned by Lennon or McCartney. Brooke White (who is affectionately known in my house as "this dingbat") sang "Here Comes the Sun" by George Harrison, which you may or may not know is my favorite song. For that, and for her generally endearing performance and ability to respond to the judges' comments with candor, she got my vote last night.
As for the producers of American Idol, I don't expect them to hand me the credit for steering them away from another week of blundering insult. They are, however, encouraged to continue to read my blog for input on how to improve their show and should feel free to contact me if they need any further assistance. Here's a start: No matter what the theme is, doing it two weeks in a row is ill-advised. If you didn't learn that from last night's less-than-impressive performances, I'm telling you now. Don't do it again.
Friday, March 14, 2008
exclusion.
Dear Producers of American Idol,
I found last week's theme to be fucking bullshit. Was there some specific reason for making it "the Lennon-McCartney Songbook" as opposed to the more general and inclusive theme of "the Beatles"?
As I recall, there were 4 members of the Beatles, all of whom wrote songs (yes, even Ringo penned one or two). I also recall that George Harrison underwent years of creative frustration during which the songs he wrote never got the consideration that they deserved. He wrote beautifully-crafted songs that were, for the most part, on par with what Lennon and McCartney were creating. They may not have the technically-perfect melodies of Paul's songs, or the apeshit-alienated lyrics of John's, but they have a simple sincerity, a level of humanistic connection that makes them very special. Not to mention his amazing guitar work and--this is a recent observation--he for some reason brought out the best in Ringo. Listen to the drum-work in some of George's songs compared to the others', it has generally stronger and more complex rhythms. George was also the first of the Beatles to release a solo album after their breakup, which also happened to be the first triple-album released by a single artist in rock history.
For all of the reasons above, this exclusion is both incomprehensible and unacceptable. I cannot fathom a reason why you would have chosen to show such disrespect intentionally, nor can I imagine that this was a forgetful omission. Whatever the reason, this neglect is despicable, as is your decision to extend the theme to next week's episode (not to mention redundant).
Most sincerely disgusted,
Jessica Filippi
I would really like to actually send this to the producers of American Idol, however, I can't seem to find any contact information on the website. The only forum that seems available to me is the message boards at americanidol.com. Given their typical content, which consists of bitching about Simon Cowell's attitude, various trivial injustices, and unpunctuated comments about the contestants' relative abilities, I don't think this is the appropriate place for my letter. So, it's here, because I have to unleash this rant somewhere.
I found last week's theme to be fucking bullshit. Was there some specific reason for making it "the Lennon-McCartney Songbook" as opposed to the more general and inclusive theme of "the Beatles"?
As I recall, there were 4 members of the Beatles, all of whom wrote songs (yes, even Ringo penned one or two). I also recall that George Harrison underwent years of creative frustration during which the songs he wrote never got the consideration that they deserved. He wrote beautifully-crafted songs that were, for the most part, on par with what Lennon and McCartney were creating. They may not have the technically-perfect melodies of Paul's songs, or the apeshit-alienated lyrics of John's, but they have a simple sincerity, a level of humanistic connection that makes them very special. Not to mention his amazing guitar work and--this is a recent observation--he for some reason brought out the best in Ringo. Listen to the drum-work in some of George's songs compared to the others', it has generally stronger and more complex rhythms. George was also the first of the Beatles to release a solo album after their breakup, which also happened to be the first triple-album released by a single artist in rock history.
For all of the reasons above, this exclusion is both incomprehensible and unacceptable. I cannot fathom a reason why you would have chosen to show such disrespect intentionally, nor can I imagine that this was a forgetful omission. Whatever the reason, this neglect is despicable, as is your decision to extend the theme to next week's episode (not to mention redundant).
Most sincerely disgusted,
Jessica Filippi
I would really like to actually send this to the producers of American Idol, however, I can't seem to find any contact information on the website. The only forum that seems available to me is the message boards at americanidol.com. Given their typical content, which consists of bitching about Simon Cowell's attitude, various trivial injustices, and unpunctuated comments about the contestants' relative abilities, I don't think this is the appropriate place for my letter. So, it's here, because I have to unleash this rant somewhere.
Monday, March 10, 2008
abandon
My new favorite video. If anyone is ever planning on throwing me a party, this is how I'd like it to be.
Thursday, March 6, 2008
daylight savings
This weekend we will change the clocks and "spring forward" into daylight savings time. It is earlier this year for the 2nd time. Last year it was changed from April to March, providing a small, early respite to the winter-weary by giving us some more afternoon sunshine while we wait for the warm weather to come save us.
Something I've noticed, though, is that when I express happiness about the impending change, I invariably get the following response:
"Doesn't that mean we get less sleep?"
Ok. Yes, it means that we are putting the clocks forward one hour, so I guess that means "less sleep". But seriously, are we that sleep deprived that one hour one day is going to make that big of a difference? It's on a Saturday night for crying out loud...why don't you just sleep an hour later on Sunday to make up for it?? Or stay home and go to bed early if you're really that worried about it. All I'm trying to say here is get a grip because...here comes the sun.
Something I've noticed, though, is that when I express happiness about the impending change, I invariably get the following response:
"Doesn't that mean we get less sleep?"
Ok. Yes, it means that we are putting the clocks forward one hour, so I guess that means "less sleep". But seriously, are we that sleep deprived that one hour one day is going to make that big of a difference? It's on a Saturday night for crying out loud...why don't you just sleep an hour later on Sunday to make up for it?? Or stay home and go to bed early if you're really that worried about it. All I'm trying to say here is get a grip because...here comes the sun.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
"The man behind the mix"...is my Bobba.
I'm a proud beep! Read this article, recently published on Columbia's blog about Rob.
The Sound of Music
For careful listeners, the best soundtrack on campus is the rotation of Vampire Weekend, Radiohead and other indie darlings at Cafe 212. Bwog cultural correspondent Merrell Hambleton sits down with the man behind the mix.
I find Café 212 manager Robert Bell working to hang up two small bulletin boards. "I'm actually doing something with the music," he says. "The music" he's referring to is precisely the reason for our meeting—Bell, tall with longish brown hair, dark framed glasses, and a neatly trimmed chinstrap, has earned a reputation in his year at Columbia for playing some non-traditional Muzak. In fact, its not Muzak at all, it's actually, well, good. If you're haunted by memories of 212's old soundtrack, you'll likely be pleased to hear the likes of Radiohead, Cat Power or the of-late-ubiquitous Vampire Weekend while you wait in the sandwich line.
So what prompted Bell to buck the trend of non-descript instrumental world music and hit-or-miss pop (read: Ferris Booth)? The Virginia native moved to New York (Prospect Heights, Brooklyn, to be specific) in 2004, where he first "got excited by working with food" while working at an Au Bon Pain branch. But chain stores don't offer a whole lot of flexibility. According to Bell, "One thing that really bothered me... was they had this Frank Sinatra thing going on. They had it very carefully orchestrated, so in Hong Kong they had an Au Bon Pain that was also playing Frank Sinatra at 8 AM."
When he arrived at Columbia in 2007, Bell had the opportunity to indulge his pop sensibility—which began, unsurprisingly, with the Beatles. "My dad had a copy of Yellow Submarine, which has got to be the worst Beatles album, but it had 'Hey Bulldog' on it." From there, Bell's taste has expanded significantly, though when I ask if there's a band he plays more than others, Bell admits, "there're a lot of Beatles on." (As we talk, "Get Back" is playing—part of the "Brit Pop" mix). Spoon has been on heavy rotation lately, and when In Rainbows came out Bell let the whole record play through. "Vampire Weekend and Cat Power's Jukebox came out a few weeks ago and I mixed that together and played that in the morning." Of course, Bell doesn't have total freedom, even if the boundaries are self-imposed. "You can't play Gang of Four; you can't play J.U.S.T.I.C.E. here when people are trying to study and digest."
The music Bell plays is almost entirely his own. "Because of the way the music is set up here," He says, "I play CDs, so its not like I'm streaming Pandora... I actually mix CDs from stuff that I have, which fortunately at this point is a large amount of music." Aside from living in Brooklyn and frequenting the Siren Festival, Bell used to read Inkblot Magazine to keep abreast of new bands. "I think a couple of those people broke off and went to Pitchfork. PopMatters is another one."
When he isn't re-ordering Movie Size Junior Mints (incidentally, these are selling really well) and feeding ravenous undergrads, Bell is in class. Intro to Comp Lit is the second course Bell's taken with Bruce Robbins and he claims to be "enjoying it thoroughly." Though not a matriculating student, Bell hopes to apply in the next year or so. Minus the Dining Services jacket, it seems like he'll fit in pretty well.
So does Bell's presence signal a new, edgier direction for Columbia Dining at large? It doesn't seem likely. Ferris is still blasting the Grease Soundtrack on a weekly basis. Still, Bell says he'd like to get the Ferris manager's input. "I think he likes metal."
The Sound of Music
For careful listeners, the best soundtrack on campus is the rotation of Vampire Weekend, Radiohead and other indie darlings at Cafe 212. Bwog cultural correspondent Merrell Hambleton sits down with the man behind the mix.
I find Café 212 manager Robert Bell working to hang up two small bulletin boards. "I'm actually doing something with the music," he says. "The music" he's referring to is precisely the reason for our meeting—Bell, tall with longish brown hair, dark framed glasses, and a neatly trimmed chinstrap, has earned a reputation in his year at Columbia for playing some non-traditional Muzak. In fact, its not Muzak at all, it's actually, well, good. If you're haunted by memories of 212's old soundtrack, you'll likely be pleased to hear the likes of Radiohead, Cat Power or the of-late-ubiquitous Vampire Weekend while you wait in the sandwich line.
So what prompted Bell to buck the trend of non-descript instrumental world music and hit-or-miss pop (read: Ferris Booth)? The Virginia native moved to New York (Prospect Heights, Brooklyn, to be specific) in 2004, where he first "got excited by working with food" while working at an Au Bon Pain branch. But chain stores don't offer a whole lot of flexibility. According to Bell, "One thing that really bothered me... was they had this Frank Sinatra thing going on. They had it very carefully orchestrated, so in Hong Kong they had an Au Bon Pain that was also playing Frank Sinatra at 8 AM."
When he arrived at Columbia in 2007, Bell had the opportunity to indulge his pop sensibility—which began, unsurprisingly, with the Beatles. "My dad had a copy of Yellow Submarine, which has got to be the worst Beatles album, but it had 'Hey Bulldog' on it." From there, Bell's taste has expanded significantly, though when I ask if there's a band he plays more than others, Bell admits, "there're a lot of Beatles on." (As we talk, "Get Back" is playing—part of the "Brit Pop" mix). Spoon has been on heavy rotation lately, and when In Rainbows came out Bell let the whole record play through. "Vampire Weekend and Cat Power's Jukebox came out a few weeks ago and I mixed that together and played that in the morning." Of course, Bell doesn't have total freedom, even if the boundaries are self-imposed. "You can't play Gang of Four; you can't play J.U.S.T.I.C.E. here when people are trying to study and digest."
The music Bell plays is almost entirely his own. "Because of the way the music is set up here," He says, "I play CDs, so its not like I'm streaming Pandora... I actually mix CDs from stuff that I have, which fortunately at this point is a large amount of music." Aside from living in Brooklyn and frequenting the Siren Festival, Bell used to read Inkblot Magazine to keep abreast of new bands. "I think a couple of those people broke off and went to Pitchfork. PopMatters is another one."
When he isn't re-ordering Movie Size Junior Mints (incidentally, these are selling really well) and feeding ravenous undergrads, Bell is in class. Intro to Comp Lit is the second course Bell's taken with Bruce Robbins and he claims to be "enjoying it thoroughly." Though not a matriculating student, Bell hopes to apply in the next year or so. Minus the Dining Services jacket, it seems like he'll fit in pretty well.
So does Bell's presence signal a new, edgier direction for Columbia Dining at large? It doesn't seem likely. Ferris is still blasting the Grease Soundtrack on a weekly basis. Still, Bell says he'd like to get the Ferris manager's input. "I think he likes metal."
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