As if I needed more indication that I am surrounded by amateurs. This morning I received 2 CVs over email from people who are computer scientists and seemed to be looking for work. I am not looking for a computer scientist, so I wrote to the lovely MC asking her if she knows why this would be happening, if perhaps we had advertised our need for a web re-design and these people were deluded, or what. She said "no, I haven't heard about any searches for new IT guys for the department, but maybe these people are reading Your mind heh heh!" Clever, that MC chick. So anyway, I forget about it, and then this evening I get another CV plus a letter. So I read it. And I find out that the Main Office of UW is looking for a computer systems administrator. Which is fantastic. So I do a search on the UW website and there is, indeed, an ad for a computer systems administrator. But no email address is indicated, only a snailmail address for candidates. So I go to the most popular daily newspaper website and do a search for "computer systems administrator". The first ad that appears is the ad from UW, which very clearly states that CVs should be sent to the Main Office of the University. And just below that ad is my email address.

I went to get an HIV test on Saturday (Poland's HIV awareness days are the next 2 Saturdays! go get tested! free and anonymous!). The fellow who did the little pre-interview was wonderfully good at retaining a completely non-judgemental attitude, but he asked a lot of questions that I said "yes" to, which made my life seem a LOT more interesting than it is. Oh, the college years.

Here's where I am right now: I have a song in my head. It's only the intro to the song, and it's a song I like a lot, it's a song that I'd like to listen to, but it has no words, and I have no way of identifying it so I can find it in my iTunes library. This. Is torture.

Ja: No i pamiętajcie, że jakoś te Andrzejki trzeba świętować.
Mama: Tak, jesteśmy przygotowane, będziemy, będziemy.
Ja: Mnie to każdego roku i tak to samo wychodzi -- abstrakcja woskowa.
Mama: No ale trzeba też buty za drzwi wystawić.
Ja: O nie, jakie buty?
Mama: No, ukłąda się buty w stronę drzwi i ten którego buty wyjdą ten pierwszy wyjdzie za mąż.
Ja: Ale ja jestem tu sama!

Here's what I thought of that meeting on Friday: If You call a meeting to discuss things related to my job, it's a work meeting. Even if it takes place at someone's home in the evening. It's work. It's not an informal chat. It's work. It should not, therefore, come as a surprise that I expect the other people attending the meeting to take it seriously. I realize that I am the only one responsible for anything, and I get that that is why people took a more informal perspective -- OK, fine, it's not their work. They can sit around and rant or gossip and not write anything down and no one will hold them accountable for what is said. *I* am the one held accountable. Because it is my work. I spend all fu&king day thinking about this sh%t. It is in no way relaxing or pleasant for me to come to a meeting about my work. My work stresses me the f*ck out. It is in no way relaxing or pleasant for me to come to a meeting to which most people are 30-60 minutes late and no one but me seems to be task-oriented. OK, I happen to be strenuously overcommitted right now, in the midst of a month of trying to complete a mountain of grievously overdue tasks, I am not at all in a position to be people-focussed, and yes, if I had time to spare I would be reacting differently. But either way: I don't think it is fair to expect me to have time to spare. I think my time is precious. I don't waste Your time. Because I also think Your time is precious. That's the thing.

I got this link recently from G. While I sympathize with the frustration felt by non-republicans regarding the immense ignorance demonstrated by Palin supporters, I am confident that someone conducting such interviews at Obama rallies could find equal ignorance on clear display. I don't think this adds anything to the discourse.

Every time I get a message from FutureMe.org I am surprised by how sucky my PastMe had it.

The iPod I got from my uncle via my grandmother's rejection of it suddenly stopped working. It is, the service people say, unsalvageable. It's funny how many times a person can drop an object and have it work, then it suddenly experiences seemingly unprovoked catastrophic failure. Anyway, on the occasion of my trip to the iPod repair shop I took A's ex's 80GB 5th gen "classic" iPod too. They replaced the battery i hula. Good music. I want to resync the podcast directory, but I feel that would be an imposition. Then again, it was abandoned ~2 years ago. Probably I can not worry and just have my way with it.

I sensed today that I have not done any ab exercises in the past 3 weeks.

Also, I just discovered today (do I do this every year?) that I have a uit e-mail address to which students have been sending questions for the last 6 weeks.

Let me tell You, the only way to justify taking a cruise on the hurtigruten is teaching 3 courses here next year.

Dear Woman Whose Talk I Attended This Evening,

I didn't ask You that question at the end to be antagonistic. That is why I prefaced it with "I understand and support the point You are trying to make," and only then added "but I am not entirely comfortable with the argumentation You used." It seems to me that that should have been lead-in enough to spare me the righteous rant that followed. Truly, Ma'am, the reason I asked is that I actually *care* about this issue, and I fear that an intelligent but uninformed listener such as myself will be less persuaded if You use arguments that can easily be undermined by Your adversaries, who will, when they come, latch onto that point and derail Your message. The question was an opportunity for You to hone Your pitch, to take note of potential disruptions in the communication process. I wanted You to realize that imprecision in political debate is death. Too bad You didn't get that.

As usual, after consistent disinterest for the past 6 months, he swoops in one day and expects full service. Man oh man.

Today I ate breakfast at the Rica Ishavshotel in downtown Tromso. They have a "new and healthy breakfast," consulted with the doctors and dieticians for the Norwegian Olympic Team. The only thing that distinguishes it from the old and healthy breakfast, that I can tell, is that it includes kiwi-halves ready-stabbed with teaspoons for convenient consumption. But, whatever, their traditional pineapple juice blended with ginger and mint is like crack.