Opopanox, Home of the Arrogant Worm

Hm, didn’t do badly at helping in the kitchen, D. said initiative (asking questions about where utensils are in the kitchen, say) counts for much. Which while an admirable sentiment, it doesn’t make as large a dent as she seemed to state, least. in the long run. I pointed out that while initiative may acquire you a job, initiative will not let you keep it. So she attempted to explain the Serve 25 hour (in my case) observation process and I’m still confused. She said the various difficulties didn’t matter – so if they’re not there to figure out how to work with and around those in my case, then what’s their use? I understand at the end of the process they help with interviews, et all, but if they’re just here to look for ‘initiative’ then they could save 25 hours and get to the damned point.

Also a bit irritated with myself, or rather, drinking glasses. They’re identical, save for apparently an inch or so and there’s damned perception problems with moving objects. Of which glasses are, as they’re not stationary in a kitchen. People move objects too fast and they’re all…jumbled, can’t get a good visual size comparison going. without taking a few seconds you really don’t have to scrutanize the object. That’s the problem, I think, those extra few seconds add up, and they need to be done for every object. Which is probably why I can draw. Having to actually – look – at everything makes you notice how far apart colors and shadow and lines are in relation to its surroundings. Unfortunately if you, say, move something, the relationship changes radically. It’s how I turn one rather decimated tulip into a bouquet of flowers on paper. It’s also why I loath drawing from life, everyone – moves -, even when they don’t mean to. Well, ‘cept for me, but drawing my hand or foot, got that down to a matter of moments and it doesn’t really count. I suppose it’s good I’ve no plans to work in industrialized kitchen (why they scheduled me for kitchen duty was because I suggested working with pwd, daycares and/or adults. Apparently spending hours in a kitchen was part of their version of ‘working with’.’ Going to need to have a talk with the woman the next time she calls back, it was not what I had in mind when I suggested working with adults.

-Edited to remind myself I also need to talk to her about warnings. I dunno if she’s new, but she forgot to tell me I needed nonslip shoes for the kitchen. Incredibly fucking lucky I had a pair, whoever her next client is will get a hurting when they fall and she failed to make sure they had proper equipment.

…Forgot to add the songs, hunted up some real beauties.

Gone (Going) by Jack Johnson

(very mellow)

Daydream in Blue by I Monster

(also very mellow)

Garbage by Chairlift

(particularly liked it due to my thrifty, save that bottle! nature)

Books from Boxes by Maximo Park

(reminds me a bit of The Decemberists, due to actual lyrics. Love descriptive lyrics)

Yes, well. Read a Mercedes Lackey book. Not a bad writer, but could really stand to further some issues work. Broke a chunk of my back tooth 2 days before m’birthday, still sensitive. We’ll be celebrating it at the end of June, I think, if all goes well. Trying to figure out that damned welfare application along with Mawd. ugh.

Talked to Serve today to tell ‘em some job issues and what I’d like to try. Consequently now I’m all jitters, as she called back earlier today to ask if I’m free at nine tomorrow to walk across two towns for a stint at Ma’s place o’employment, which I won’t be any good at since it’s in a kitchen.

My only wondering is that she asked – she’s familiar with the area and that I don’t drive, so god only knows why she called for a place that never hires when she’s aware it takes an hour an a half to walk there from here. Hitching a ride with ma at five am tomorrow, live in the truck till the time comes to meet her out front, I suppose, since I very well couldn’t say ‘no’. I’m good in a kitchen, but not an industrial one, where measuring cups an stove dials that I can’t see and haven’t memorized abound, let alone food recipes, since I’m used to working from memory. The stoves there do make me uneasy, as do the hot plates. I get enough accidents around one stove, but most of their kitchen is full of hot metal (I’ve been there before, visiting ma on break and dropping ff keys or pop when we lived two doors down). Ma said Serve uses her work as a ‘trial run’ for getting used to the program, and that I’d likely just be filling juice cups and serving cake on individual plates (it being a nursing home).

I did manage to tell the woman who came to see me ’bout the slight back problem though, and that I enjoyed working with mhmr, so hoping for a job at F. Eh, come what may, though I woudn’t survive at Ma’s work if it came down to it. Her job moves too fast, among other things. I’m a bit of a plodder, I s’pose, only have two speeds and the fastest one many people consider just a – smidge – too slow. Always just a smidge, as if they think I could hike it up any faster. Some of it’s my vision, takes an extra minute or two to focus and read, while some of it’s prolly my height, believe it or not it’s been a problem in two jobs already, dishwashing where I couldn’t reach to hang up the pans and couldn’t see the nails they were supposed to go on, and the animal care sanctuary, where they gave me a stool that I was supposed to step on and off every two minutes for seven or so hours to reach in back of cages cuz I was too damn short. Nobody else had to use a stool and not sure where they managed to dig it up as it was plastic. Kept waiting for it to crumple or slide out from under me, the legs weren’t the steadiest. My back died, I only lasted the day. It actually died at eleven or so, got through the rest of it on sheer force of will, it was worse than the pre pt for the military. Which, yes, is saying something.. Spending 7 or 8 hours (I misremember exact time) running, doing drills, situps, pushups, odd leg exercises…. t’was all quiet a bit easier than that cage and a stool. And the owners of the place wondered why they were always four people short.

Anyway, I ain’t tall, tall being about 5′5 and over. Don’t think I’m slow, really, since things get done in time, always. I like to think strength makes up for it most of the time (my calves leave many in awe, rather proud of ‘em), but Ma said prolly no hauling things. Wouldn’t mind working for a moving company, but the height difference with everyone else means two people of wildly disparaging height (Most movers I’ve seen are about six foot, unfortunately) make it harder to carry a sofa, least for me. Their steps are longer and their end is jacked up an extra 7 or 8 inches, it sucks. Eh, nervous for tomorrow. Have to find shoes, the black ones are two sizes too big, but the other sneakers give me blisters. Choices, choices.

Well, I’m just a little bit screwed. Went to the dentist to have the back tooth extracted. You know, the one the dentist was supposed to pull the – last – time. He couldn’t numb it fully, too far gone now apparently, so I’ve been ‘reccommended’ to an oral surgeon.

I don’t have the fucking money for this shit. Further, he claimed 4 cavities between my front teeth today, while the last time I was there he said there was nothing when I asked him to check. Knew there was a cavity there last time, but considering he roundly missed it (and yes, when I can see it he, too, should be able to view it as well, otherwise he shouldn’t be working as a dentist) not sure what to think. He’s still horribly good at filling the cavities he manages to spot, though, so gotta give the man some credit.

I would like to know what goes through the mind of the asker of Q “Why do you want it pulled?”, especially after you’ve just been informed that there’s a gaping black pit that hurts horribly on and off for several years and that it used to be impacted until you pulled the wrong tooth. No really. What the fuck king of Question – is – that?

So, now I need to find an oral surgeon that takes assistance, need to get assistance, yadda yadda yadda. Really need to get assistance, wonder if I can claim art commissions as part time for medical? I do comissions, but not sure if they’ll let me. Damned office supply store isn’t looking at their apps till Friday, already nagged ‘em twice. ugh, wish I could quit drooling.

Edited to add – Dr. Dentist seems to have pissed off my Shitty Tooth with all the poking and prodding, my mouth is still half numb but it aches. M’not looking forward to the rest of the novicain dissipation. Dad loaned a few of his painkillers, but ..not hopeful. Damned dentist. Wasn’t hurting before he attacked it with metal, if he pulled the right one in the first place we wouldn’t have this problem.