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I spent a good bit of my day in a perfectly foul mood, wanting to throw things at people, partly because I stayed up till 3:30 am watching Hornblower (hey, now! I got to the end of Mutiny and realized it was a fucking two-parter and that I was not going to be able to sleep until I knew how it ended), and mostly because of another thing which I am not even going to talk about here because it makes me angry all over again and also because I feel horribly neurotic and immature getting upset about it, and so we will gloss over that bit. All you really need to know is that I started the day in a wretched state.
This state was not in any way improved by today's working lunch, for which we huddled around the conference table eating Subway sandwiches while we talked about how getting written up was an organic part of work life, among other things. And our "assignment" for the week was to write someone in the company a thank you letter, and the coworker sitting next to me, a tiny, acerbic woman in her fifties, said, "Only if you let me write one that says, Yeah, I know you get paid to do it, but I have to thank you anyway." And I immediately felt better, and realized something sad about myself: It doesn't matter how angry I am, if I can interact with someone who is angrier than I am, I immediately feel better.
:::
All that is sort of beside the point, though. The point is this: this afternoon Isis had an excellent idea, that I send out a postcard showcasing my itty bitty handwriting. And I want to expand it to include, well, whoever, because wouldn't it be a nice exchange? You make me feel better by requesting a postcard, and I make you feel nice, I hope, by obliging. Please say you'll participate! I've screened comments here, and if you'd like one, just leave me your snail-mail address--or email it to throwawaybird at gmail dot com, if you don't trust my ability to screen--and also a topic if you'd like me to write about something in particular (otherwise I'll think of something). Perhaps you would like the writing accompanied by a lameass drawing of some sort? I can oblige you there as well. I am easy. And I want to write to you.
This state was not in any way improved by today's working lunch, for which we huddled around the conference table eating Subway sandwiches while we talked about how getting written up was an organic part of work life, among other things. And our "assignment" for the week was to write someone in the company a thank you letter, and the coworker sitting next to me, a tiny, acerbic woman in her fifties, said, "Only if you let me write one that says, Yeah, I know you get paid to do it, but I have to thank you anyway." And I immediately felt better, and realized something sad about myself: It doesn't matter how angry I am, if I can interact with someone who is angrier than I am, I immediately feel better.
:::
All that is sort of beside the point, though. The point is this: this afternoon Isis had an excellent idea, that I send out a postcard showcasing my itty bitty handwriting. And I want to expand it to include, well, whoever, because wouldn't it be a nice exchange? You make me feel better by requesting a postcard, and I make you feel nice, I hope, by obliging. Please say you'll participate! I've screened comments here, and if you'd like one, just leave me your snail-mail address--or email it to throwawaybird at gmail dot com, if you don't trust my ability to screen--and also a topic if you'd like me to write about something in particular (otherwise I'll think of something). Perhaps you would like the writing accompanied by a lameass drawing of some sort? I can oblige you there as well. I am easy. And I want to write to you.
