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Aug. 11th, 2012 02:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
breezeshadowSo yesterday I was just minding my own business at work, putting samples into storage, when my supervisor came over and asked me to come with her, because one of the lab directors wanted to do an "evaluation". We have three-month evaluations, but this was early for that -- like, a month early. "Dammit, I wish I had had time to STUDY", I thought as I went out to the front and followed my supervisor, the chief science officer, and the lab director into an office.
"You're not in trouble, so don't be nervous."
It's like they know me already. I relaxed a bit, now mostly just curious. The lab director was holding papers.
"To start off, we really like you."
I replied to that comment with a cautious "Thanks?" I don't know how to take compliments. He continued.
"You're very intelligent," then something else I don't remember, and then "But we feel that you could be doing more for the company than just processing samples."
At THAT point I got nervous again, but cautiously agreed. And that's when he told me basically, that he wanted me to move into the QA department that they were planning to start on. While also taking on some of my supervisor's work to relieve her of some of it. He told me that I already had the writing and communication skills for it, so what did I think?
I said okay, sure, and got congratulated by the chief science officer, which is what mostly gave me a hint that this was more than just a department change. Also, my supervisor asked me as we left "So was this completely out of the left field for you?"
Yes. Yes it was.
Too bad it hasn't stopped my brain from being insane. My relationship has been getting kind of strained lately through no real fault of either of us, and our struggles to keep it together have my brain apparently taking the opportunity to go off the deep end. I have an appointment with a therapy institute on the 31st, because things are just getting a bit far. Earlier this week I started to wonder if anyone would care or how they would react if I tried to kill myself. Then yesterday upon realizing how strained the relationship was, I got the fleeting thought of killing myself. Which is so fucking unreasonable I don't even know what to say about myself.
This morning I felt distant, blah, and needed coaxing fromsmw and my boyfriend to leave the house. Which ended up helping so thank you both, but ugh. BRAINS.
In other news OMG ALAMEDA NATURAL GROCERY. You know those overpriced, healthy-crazy places that have hordes of rices and lentils and stuff in bulk and all kinds of weird fruit? Yep, one of those places. I'm in love. It reminds me of my cousin, who is very similar to me in many respects, and we would sometimes go to a natural store much like this one, and so that further gave me fuzzy feelings. As did the fresh produce. And the chocolate. They have Green & Black's which is SO hard to find out here :D Love.
Also work out routine is slowly coming along. Trying to remember to actually work out, joints seem a bit better, though today after barely 15min of swimming my head was pounding (?). Will keep trying.
And finally...
As second heir to the leadership and the first son of the Msakajunia Malaki, Bertram was honoured with many privileges.
Avoiding boring trade duties was not one of them.
He sat in a chilly bar that did not seem to realize that one fireplace was going to do very little to heat a large, stone building. The fur wrapped around his shoulders did little to ease the cold, nor did people constantly opening the bloody door and having to survey the place like it was a battlefield before finding a place to sit. Occasionally people would also shout excitedly and then get into what were either fights or warm reunions right in front of the doorway; even knowing the language did not help him know which.
Not that he could not understand exuberance; after all, the ancient Msakajunia would solve their problems with a dramatic and sometimes deadly mix of swordfighting and wrestling. Yet they still knew when to keep a door closed on a cold plains night. Bertram sighed into his beer, wishing he had about twenty more, at once. It would either warm him up at last, or make him so drunk he would not even notice or care.
Trade with the Cybisqu was always a tiring affair; they were a proud people, a loud people, a very strange and picky people. They also were cultivators of some of the most fantastic berries on the continent, ranging from raspberries to pigeon berries, using methods they would not disclose. Certainly the Msakajunia nation had enough fig and plum trees to satisfy their sweet craving, yet there was still a huge demand for the fruits, and so there Bertram found himself, trying to negotiate a new trade deal after the fickle Cybisqu people suddenly decided that being given silver and some lovely fabrics just wasn't enough for a pile of plant matter.
His job was to tell them that actually they found this to be perfectly reasonable thank you and if they thought it was not, well, they were sure someone else must grow these fruit.
It was not easy convincing Cybisqu people of much of anything. He wanted to walk out of the damn country, but his parents would be highly displeased, and his sister would tease him until he killed them both with an earthquake.
Thus he chose the bar instead. Somehow, being drunk did not make him more likely to use his magic on someone, except in showy tricks. Cybisquan beer was horribly watery however, despite all of the boastings of the bartender, and he wondered how offensive it would be to go up there and order the strongest whiskey they had.
"Do you mind if I take this seat?"
The owner of the voice did not wait for an answer, and Bertram looked up to watch a young man, dressed in such a thick coat his body was lost in it, settle into the seat across from him. Bertram snorted at him, smiling quirkily.
"I was not expecting to meet a Welener here."
"Great Dragon, is it obvious? I thought being out of there for a few years would have taken care of that." The stranger smiled charmingly; his accent was not too thick, true, but Bertram recognized the Pooselridge lilt from the few times he was in the area. Furthermore, he spoke Ubiquitous, which despite the name was an official language only in Welen. "An Eramen isn't exactly usual here either."
"And I cannot blend in as well." Bertram looked around and indeed, he had the darkest skin and the most fiery red hair of anyone in the room. The Cybisqu were usually blase about it, but he had been to some places that treated his skin tone as a sign that he was actually secretly a barbarian. It was always fun to dismantle that theory, if only because they always made the exact same shocked faces.
"You did catch my eye pretty quickly, I'll admit." The stranger paused, then blushed ever so slightly, glancing down at the table. "Sorry, I hope that wasn't too--"
Bertram chuckled then, sipping at his beer; somehow it was more tolerable when there was something more interesting going on. "I have heard far worse, trust me. Besides, I prefer to get pissed off at people whose name I know."
The young man paused for a moment, then startled and laughed bashfully. "Those basic social skills, right? I'm Alden."
"Bertram Wekesa." Bertram smiled at Alden's confused little smile. "I have very strange parents."
"Pardon if I say you don't look anything like a 'Bertram.'" Alden grinned when Bertram laughed, almost spilling his beer. "Oh good, I haven't offended you yet."
"Oh no, it is a completely legitimate comment." He wiped at his mouth; most people politely ignored that a Msakajunia somehow had a Welen name. Considering the two countries hated each other and were always one misstep away from a full war, it seemed to be more appropriate in a novel. Bertram was more than inclined to agree; the name had given him enough grief as a child, and he hated being all but forced by his parents to use it outside of the country as a sort of gesture toward their enemy. "I prefer Bakari but the whole story would take all night to tell."....
"You're not in trouble, so don't be nervous."
It's like they know me already. I relaxed a bit, now mostly just curious. The lab director was holding papers.
"To start off, we really like you."
I replied to that comment with a cautious "Thanks?" I don't know how to take compliments. He continued.
"You're very intelligent," then something else I don't remember, and then "But we feel that you could be doing more for the company than just processing samples."
At THAT point I got nervous again, but cautiously agreed. And that's when he told me basically, that he wanted me to move into the QA department that they were planning to start on. While also taking on some of my supervisor's work to relieve her of some of it. He told me that I already had the writing and communication skills for it, so what did I think?
I said okay, sure, and got congratulated by the chief science officer, which is what mostly gave me a hint that this was more than just a department change. Also, my supervisor asked me as we left "So was this completely out of the left field for you?"
Yes. Yes it was.
Too bad it hasn't stopped my brain from being insane. My relationship has been getting kind of strained lately through no real fault of either of us, and our struggles to keep it together have my brain apparently taking the opportunity to go off the deep end. I have an appointment with a therapy institute on the 31st, because things are just getting a bit far. Earlier this week I started to wonder if anyone would care or how they would react if I tried to kill myself. Then yesterday upon realizing how strained the relationship was, I got the fleeting thought of killing myself. Which is so fucking unreasonable I don't even know what to say about myself.
This morning I felt distant, blah, and needed coaxing from
smw and my boyfriend to leave the house. Which ended up helping so thank you both, but ugh. BRAINS.In other news OMG ALAMEDA NATURAL GROCERY. You know those overpriced, healthy-crazy places that have hordes of rices and lentils and stuff in bulk and all kinds of weird fruit? Yep, one of those places. I'm in love. It reminds me of my cousin, who is very similar to me in many respects, and we would sometimes go to a natural store much like this one, and so that further gave me fuzzy feelings. As did the fresh produce. And the chocolate. They have Green & Black's which is SO hard to find out here :D Love.
Also work out routine is slowly coming along. Trying to remember to actually work out, joints seem a bit better, though today after barely 15min of swimming my head was pounding (?). Will keep trying.
And finally...
As second heir to the leadership and the first son of the Msakajunia Malaki, Bertram was honoured with many privileges.
Avoiding boring trade duties was not one of them.
He sat in a chilly bar that did not seem to realize that one fireplace was going to do very little to heat a large, stone building. The fur wrapped around his shoulders did little to ease the cold, nor did people constantly opening the bloody door and having to survey the place like it was a battlefield before finding a place to sit. Occasionally people would also shout excitedly and then get into what were either fights or warm reunions right in front of the doorway; even knowing the language did not help him know which.
Not that he could not understand exuberance; after all, the ancient Msakajunia would solve their problems with a dramatic and sometimes deadly mix of swordfighting and wrestling. Yet they still knew when to keep a door closed on a cold plains night. Bertram sighed into his beer, wishing he had about twenty more, at once. It would either warm him up at last, or make him so drunk he would not even notice or care.
Trade with the Cybisqu was always a tiring affair; they were a proud people, a loud people, a very strange and picky people. They also were cultivators of some of the most fantastic berries on the continent, ranging from raspberries to pigeon berries, using methods they would not disclose. Certainly the Msakajunia nation had enough fig and plum trees to satisfy their sweet craving, yet there was still a huge demand for the fruits, and so there Bertram found himself, trying to negotiate a new trade deal after the fickle Cybisqu people suddenly decided that being given silver and some lovely fabrics just wasn't enough for a pile of plant matter.
His job was to tell them that actually they found this to be perfectly reasonable thank you and if they thought it was not, well, they were sure someone else must grow these fruit.
It was not easy convincing Cybisqu people of much of anything. He wanted to walk out of the damn country, but his parents would be highly displeased, and his sister would tease him until he killed them both with an earthquake.
Thus he chose the bar instead. Somehow, being drunk did not make him more likely to use his magic on someone, except in showy tricks. Cybisquan beer was horribly watery however, despite all of the boastings of the bartender, and he wondered how offensive it would be to go up there and order the strongest whiskey they had.
"Do you mind if I take this seat?"
The owner of the voice did not wait for an answer, and Bertram looked up to watch a young man, dressed in such a thick coat his body was lost in it, settle into the seat across from him. Bertram snorted at him, smiling quirkily.
"I was not expecting to meet a Welener here."
"Great Dragon, is it obvious? I thought being out of there for a few years would have taken care of that." The stranger smiled charmingly; his accent was not too thick, true, but Bertram recognized the Pooselridge lilt from the few times he was in the area. Furthermore, he spoke Ubiquitous, which despite the name was an official language only in Welen. "An Eramen isn't exactly usual here either."
"And I cannot blend in as well." Bertram looked around and indeed, he had the darkest skin and the most fiery red hair of anyone in the room. The Cybisqu were usually blase about it, but he had been to some places that treated his skin tone as a sign that he was actually secretly a barbarian. It was always fun to dismantle that theory, if only because they always made the exact same shocked faces.
"You did catch my eye pretty quickly, I'll admit." The stranger paused, then blushed ever so slightly, glancing down at the table. "Sorry, I hope that wasn't too--"
Bertram chuckled then, sipping at his beer; somehow it was more tolerable when there was something more interesting going on. "I have heard far worse, trust me. Besides, I prefer to get pissed off at people whose name I know."
The young man paused for a moment, then startled and laughed bashfully. "Those basic social skills, right? I'm Alden."
"Bertram Wekesa." Bertram smiled at Alden's confused little smile. "I have very strange parents."
"Pardon if I say you don't look anything like a 'Bertram.'" Alden grinned when Bertram laughed, almost spilling his beer. "Oh good, I haven't offended you yet."
"Oh no, it is a completely legitimate comment." He wiped at his mouth; most people politely ignored that a Msakajunia somehow had a Welen name. Considering the two countries hated each other and were always one misstep away from a full war, it seemed to be more appropriate in a novel. Bertram was more than inclined to agree; the name had given him enough grief as a child, and he hated being all but forced by his parents to use it outside of the country as a sort of gesture toward their enemy. "I prefer Bakari but the whole story would take all night to tell."....
