Passive-aggressive crap
At least, that's what it seems like to me. I never took psych-type classes in college or visited a professional, so I'm just using a term I've heard thrown around without knowing what it means for sure. (Man, if psychiatrist visits had been part of BioSoft's insurance package and I'd availed myself of it, how different would things be? Would I be better-adjusted or writing this from a mental institution?) Still, saying "I'll meet you with the papers" and "getting held up" twice in one week is just certainly what I imagine "passive-aggressive" means: Being a dick by not doing something.

Finally, one of the guys at the warehouse offered to drive me into the city during lunch hour so I could just visit Doug at his office and pick them up. I got dirty looks from the folks there who had met me while Doug and I were together; I don't know what he told them. The basic truth, that I slept with and old boyfriend while he was away for the weekend, was probably enough; there's no need to play the freak card. I didn't ask; I just told the receptionist that Doug had some papers for me. She buzzed him, and an assistant-type person brought them out. Whatever. I wasn't particularly keen to see him, but if he didn't want to see me, he should have just said "I'll have them sent over" a week ago, rather than trying to set up some time to hand them over to me personally and then not showing.

Ah, well. At least I've got enough documentation to get into Quebec next week. It's neat to look over, too - see that this body was born in Burlington, VT, that my biological parents' names are Harrison and Susan, and they were crazy young when Michelle was born - "Dad" was 21 and "Mom" was 20. The idea of marrying and having kids didn't even cross my mind at that age. Or ten years later, really. Seriously, what were they thinking?

-Marti
- posted 3:28 PM - (1) comments - (archive use only)

 
"Busy"
Harold Lloyd week at the Brattle last week, and 3-D week at the Coolidge the week before that, and I can walk to either. That's part of why I didn't post much; my addictions are well-known and I have Kate as an enabler.

But, also, I've sort of gotten to the point where there's not a lot to write about. My life isn't yet normal, but it's at the point where I don't have anything new to write right now. I'll be visiting Doug tomorrow to pick some papers up, so there might be some drama there, but my life has settled into a routine.

And, you know, I worry about that. On the one hand, if I didn't accept certain circumstances of my life, I'd be miserable and insane. But if I just accepted everything, that wouldn't be good, either. So I'm putting a resumé together, and finally including my Martin Hartle stuff on it. I learned it, I earned it, and to be quite honest, two years of answering phones and smiling at everyone who walks through the door is boring the hell out of me. I've got no idea what interviews are going to be like - I'm prepared to have a lot of applications thrown out as being ridiculous, and then a lot of interviews that end when I try to explain how I came to be me.

I figure I've got to do some work before sending them out, though. I "came out" to my friends and mom last year, and that worked out okay, but before I put references on my resumé, I figure I had better try and square things with my former employers. If I'm going to put someone down as a reference, I've got to convince them that this too-young-by-five-years girl is the guy who did VB development for them way back when. I suppose I could say I had a conventional sex-change, but if I anyone who knew the old me, well, they'll wonder where those four or five inches of height went. That would be pretty radical surgery.

There's also the matter of convincing WPI that I'm the person who graduated from there, in case anyone tries to verify my degree. I think that if I refer them to the people whose work was used to make the mind-swapping machine and the FBI, they'll co-operate, but I don't even know who to contact.

So, there's all that on my plate. I'm also trying to write something else; natural outgrowth of enjoying the writing aspect of having a blog but not having much new to say. Working on that's going to take time away from this, though.

-Martina
- posted 10:02 PM - (13) comments - (archive use only)