Any day now,
Any day, now now

Unplug future plans;
Finger-paint the sun on you,
Shake your bag o’bones,
Shake your bag o’bones,
Mend your missing links,
I think trust should be the glue,
Shake your bag o’bones,
Shake your bag o’bones,

     -XTC, Nearly Africa

A rare work-related entry. I’m sorry, I promise I’ll post something really dirty real soon now.

The super-duper-seekrit project I’ve been working on the last couple months gets announced next week. Then I can finally tell you about it.

I’m waiting to see if that means my life gets quieter, or if that means we’ve just been in the foreplay phase and are about to get down for some long hard fucking.

Wait, I distracted myself with that metaphor.

Anyway it’s that waiting-on-the-edge feeling that gets me. Knowing something’s about to happen and not knowing what. I’m comfortable dealing that feeling to someone else; close you eyes and wait for it. But you blindfold me, I’ll always try to peek.

I do not, as a rule, wait well.

Things at work are tense, and confused. They’re also exciting and dynamic. Things are happening, changing. I like the chaos; I like the change. I thrive on these things. But I have a feeling my job’s going to be very different very soon.

It’s the waiting. It’s the not knowing.

I’m helping a friend with her resume, and I’m once again reminded of what an absurd game resume-writing is.

I can’t recall the last time I got really serious about writing a resume. My job now, I was hired because I knew a guy and the resume and interview process were a walk-through. I updated what I had handy, re-wrote the first bit to line up with the job and handed it in.

The thing is, a resume is an artful (if you’re good or hire well) combination of lies and marketing crap. You take what you’re good at, add in what you sort of know that sounds good, mix in a few quantifiable achievements, avoid your fuck-ups, and then write it in a stupid, awkward, artificial language that no one actually uses in real life.

Results-driven
Self-starting
Committed to

It’s so deeply artificial. And yet, a good resume can land you an interview, a bad one will land on the floor unless you have some particular skill everyone needs.

It’s different when you have a very specific technical skill to offer. I mean, Lumberjack, we all know what your job is, you don’t really have to say much. I cut down trees. I eat my lunch. I go to the lavatory. On Wednesdays I go shoppin’ And have buttered scones for tea. But for most of us with a range of possibly-applicable skills, looking for a job those might fit to, it’s a game.

Read more “The Resume, or Lies about Me”