personal

Is this the face of an asshole?

So today was kind of weird, or at least started off that way.

I stopped off at a place near the office where I often grab breakfast. It looked like they were having some trouble getting the gate fully open in front of one of the doors, so I went out a different exit than I usually do. Walking right in front of me was an older gentleman, and I mumbled my thanks as he held the door open behind him. And after that, what I’m pretty sure I heard him say in reply was, “You’re welcome, asshole.”

I was already walking in the opposite direction, headed around the corner to get to work, and I was really confused by this. Did I mishear him? But I looked back, and he seemed to be staring after me, an angrily satisfied look on his face. I don’t know if I accidentally bumped into him and didn’t notice, if he thought I was being impatient and pushing my way through, or if he was just crazy. I was in a hurry, and he was moving quite slow, but I didn’t cut in front of him, ask him to move, or even knowingly throw him a dirty look. He held the door, I politely (if tersely) said thanks, and he called me an asshole.

So you know what, fella? Fuck you. I’m sorry if I unknowingly offended you, but you certainly offended me.

The rest of the day was largely uneventful by comparison, but maybe that’s only because I didn’t venture outside again until the end of the day. We had one of our semi-regular “brown bag lunches,” where they give us food and invite a guest speaker in to give a talk. Today’s was on “Fear of Feeling: Understanding and Using Emotion Effectively.” Maybe the guy from this morning should have attended. As it is, I’m not entirely convinced the talk was worth it. The gist seemed to be, emotions are good so don’t be afraid to have them. Which, y’know, is good advice as far as that goes, but not exactly profound.

And hopefully your emotions won’t leave you cursing at strangers for no apparent reason.

Signal failure and snow

I arrived at the train station this morning only to discover that my train had been unceremoniously canceled, thanks apparently to signal failure in Farmingdale. Which of course happened on what was the coldest day of the year so far, the first time it has actually snowed — just flurries, but snow nonetheless — and it was much too cold to be standing out on the train platform. There’s a single shelter on the platform, but it’s small and not very effective at keeping out the cold, sometimes missing windows, and this morning it was already full.

Another train arrived some ten or fifteen minutes later — either the train that was scheduled to arrive then, or one the Long Island Railroad squeezed in just before it. Either way, that train was packed, ridiculously packed with people, and I only barely found room to squeeze on. At the next stop, it looked like lots of people weren’t so lucky. The only good thing about commutes like that is, if you happen to not yet have a ticket, you’re riding for free, since the aisles are too full of people for the ticket collector to move from one car to another.

Me, I have a monthly ticket, so it’s really neither here nor there.

The rest of the day was pretty dull by comparison. It promises to be something of a quiet week, with half of our team traveling to the office in England, but also something of a busy week, for those of us who are only in for this and next.

I think tomorrow, though, I need to wear a heavier coat, or maybe a sweater.

Some kind of Sunday

Pretty much just your average Sunday around here. I finished the Sunday crossword, and I went to my Sunday writing group, where I wrote this:

Good manners are everything, said Mathilde, even when — perhaps especially when — confronted with the slavering minions of the darkest underworld.

Roderick had to agree, begrudgingly, if only because he had seen the proof of Mathilde’s theories at work on previous occasions. He had accompanied her as diplomatic envoy to hell now several times, and although in her eyes he knew he was still little more than hired muscle, her father’s man through and through, there was little doubt in Roderick’s mind that heeding her now was their wisest course of action.

That didn’t mean he had to like it, though.

“Good manners is one fing, miss,” said the boy, Kairo, “but ain’t the sort of fing what’ll stop them beasties from eatin’ youse alive.” He eyed the door they’d barred behind them nervously. A pounding continued to echo from the other side. “Youse really fink we open up, they’s gonna just gonna parley, nice an’ peaceful-like?”

“If we establish terms,” replied Mathilde. “And if we pay the proper respects…then yes, I believe Lord Marbas and his attendants will see reason.”

“We’d best listen to her, boy,” said Roderick. “Either way, that door isn’t going to hold them off much longer.”

“We will need to address Marbas directly,” said Mathilde. “Appeal to his sense of honor, decorum; spilled blood is to no one’s benefit.”

“I still fink you’re starkers,” said Kairo.

“Well, certainly, we won’t open the door until a few strategic wards are in place,” said Mathilde. “Mr. Barnes, the rock salt and the good book, if you please.”

Yes, Roderick thought, he didn’t have to like it, but it was their only shot.

It’s altogether possible I’ve been watching too much Supernatural lately.

Of course, I did also receive a story rejection this morning, which is okay, and maybe wasn’t entirely unexpected given the flash piece in question, but is still disappointing. But the only thing to do is dust myself off and keep writing, try to find another home for this thing.

I do note, with some small level of satisfaction, that “writing” has moved into the “most used” post categories here on the blog. I’m going to have to do my best to keep it that way.

“I can be awkward.” “So can most of us.”

I woke up pretty late this morning, ran some errands — post office, haircut, bank — and then spent the rest of the day not doing a whole lot of anything. I mean, I filled the bird feeders in the yard — it’s quite chilly outside, but they don’t all fly south for the winter — and I watched a little television. (Fringe and a British show called Misfits.) I did a little writing — the story I’m working on proved surprisingly easy to get back into, after too long a hiatus — and did a little reading. And then this evening I watched Ondine, which was really quite lovely. Every now and then a movie like that — or In Bruges — comes along and reminds me that that Colin Farrell fellow can certainly act.

“I just really like talking about Farscape.”

I spent the day building book records in our system, running profit and loss calculations and researching competing products, doing a lot of data entry for some new proposals, with an eye towards contracting a couple of these books before the year is out. Or at least sending the contracts to the authors before I shut down my computer and put up an away message for the last two weeks of December. If you’re imagining the glamorous life of a book editor, chances are, this isn’t what you’re picturing.

But it’s Friday, which is always nice. The week went by weirdly fast, especially for a week that started off really slow. I guess it’s that whole “time is relative” and “eye of the beholder” thing again, but I had to stop a couple of times during the day and just confirm that it was indeed, truly the end of the week. Even now, I’m a little unsure. Am I going to wake up tomorrow only to discover I was supposed to go to work after all?

Well, until then, I’m acting under the assumption that it is, in fact, the weekend. I can always claim delusion afterward if I’m proven wrong.

I don’t have any real plans for the weekend, beyond maybe getting a haircut. I’d like to do some more writing, which I’ve been slacking off from recently, and there are a few things I’d like to read. Right now, I’m a little more than midway through Kim Stanley Robinson’s The Years of Rice and Salt, which I’m really enjoying a whole lot. But it is a long book, and it seems to be taking me quite a while to get through it. I’m only at 39 books for the year, and that’s including some novellas and graphic novels. I try to aim for at least 50, and I’m worried with only a few more weeks left, I’m not going to hit that target. And while you’d think two weeks off from work would leave me plenty of time to read, it also leaves me plenty of time to slack off and not get any reading done, which I am all too prone to. But I’m going to try.

This evening, though, I mostly just watched last night’s episode of Community, which may have been my favorite ever, and certainly one of the sweetest the show’s ever done. My geek brain nearly exploded when Abed started talking to guest star Paul F. Tompkins about Farscape.