Lunch can be the great destroyer of motivation and momentum. You're having a good morning, you're getting things done, everything is falling into place, and then it becomes lunch time. When do you break off? When do you let things run without you for awhile? What do you eat? Where do you eat? Add a Friday afternoon into the mix and then suddenly you're in your office, it's 1:30, and you look around and go 'eh'.
Suddenly you were gone too long. Suddenly you ate too much. Suddenly all those grand plans you had to get caught up no longer appeal to you anymore. Suddenly the rest of the day becomes an exercise in struggling to feel that you got something else done.
Stupid lunch. I love lunch but stupid lunch.
Friday, March 12, 2010
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Voluntering at a Fundraiser Could Work
Once a year, the Museum holds a fund raiser within the exhibit halls where food and beer is served, mostly beer. Bands play music. It's one big party.
Breweries come from all over for this event. While most are microbrews from our state, I've seen some from as far away as California and beers imported from Canada, Belgium, and England. Each brewery brings a variety of beverages from which to sample. There is no way to try them all in the three hours that the event is open. In earlier years, I've managed to visit every stand, or at least nearly every stand, but as the event has grown, that's not even possible any more. There are good beers and great beers to try.
This is why I'm concerned about working the event. I really enjoy the Museum. I really enjoy beer. I really enjoy being in the Museum with beer, as crowded as it can get. It's the sort of awesome that should happen more than once a year. Since it is only once a year, I don't want to miss it by working it.
Perhaps there is an after party where the volunteers polish off any remaining beer. Since I've walked around near closing time and have seen breweries run out of beer, this may not happen. Not knowing what I'm volunteering for doesn't help me either. Will I be working the door or the raffle, nowhere near the exhibits or the beer? Will I be transporting items?
I suppose Cuthbold has a point. I should focus on the fact that I'll be helping an institution I love, as well as the school that pays my bills. It shouldn't make a difference what I do as long as I'm helping.
It would be neat to be by the dinosaurs though.
Breweries come from all over for this event. While most are microbrews from our state, I've seen some from as far away as California and beers imported from Canada, Belgium, and England. Each brewery brings a variety of beverages from which to sample. There is no way to try them all in the three hours that the event is open. In earlier years, I've managed to visit every stand, or at least nearly every stand, but as the event has grown, that's not even possible any more. There are good beers and great beers to try.
This is why I'm concerned about working the event. I really enjoy the Museum. I really enjoy beer. I really enjoy being in the Museum with beer, as crowded as it can get. It's the sort of awesome that should happen more than once a year. Since it is only once a year, I don't want to miss it by working it.
Perhaps there is an after party where the volunteers polish off any remaining beer. Since I've walked around near closing time and have seen breweries run out of beer, this may not happen. Not knowing what I'm volunteering for doesn't help me either. Will I be working the door or the raffle, nowhere near the exhibits or the beer? Will I be transporting items?
I suppose Cuthbold has a point. I should focus on the fact that I'll be helping an institution I love, as well as the school that pays my bills. It shouldn't make a difference what I do as long as I'm helping.
It would be neat to be by the dinosaurs though.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Volunteered
“We're doing what now?”
Cuthbold sighed. “Oh, do pay attention Patrick. The university is providing staff assistance to the upcoming fundraising event at the Museum.”
“Volunteers,” I translated. “And I've already been volunteered, haven't I?”
“I've never known you to turn down an opportunity to assist the Museum before. I put your name down immediately upon receiving the information from the Museum.” He frowned. “Did they offend in some way?”
“No, it's nothing like that,” I reassured. “I was just planning on attending the event.”
Cuthbold was still confused. “You will be attending the event.”
“Yes but I was planning to attend the event as a customer not as a volunteer.”
“Eitherway you are contributing to the fundraising events of the Museum,” Cuthbold declared, his beaming smile indicating that, in his mind at least, all had been settled. “This way you also get to assist the maintenance of our good relationship with that institution.”
“I bet this way I get less beer,” I grumbled beneath my breath.
Cuthbold sighed. “Oh, do pay attention Patrick. The university is providing staff assistance to the upcoming fundraising event at the Museum.”
“Volunteers,” I translated. “And I've already been volunteered, haven't I?”
“I've never known you to turn down an opportunity to assist the Museum before. I put your name down immediately upon receiving the information from the Museum.” He frowned. “Did they offend in some way?”
“No, it's nothing like that,” I reassured. “I was just planning on attending the event.”
Cuthbold was still confused. “You will be attending the event.”
“Yes but I was planning to attend the event as a customer not as a volunteer.”
“Eitherway you are contributing to the fundraising events of the Museum,” Cuthbold declared, his beaming smile indicating that, in his mind at least, all had been settled. “This way you also get to assist the maintenance of our good relationship with that institution.”
“I bet this way I get less beer,” I grumbled beneath my breath.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
A Warning of Sorts
Chris looked haggard. Chris doesn't look haggard. I didn't think he could look haggard, being a vampire and all. “Ah Patrick. Good of you to come so promptly.”
“Well, you know I'm always keen to come visit,” I noted. “Getting a summons was a bit different.”
“The situation we find ourselves in is a bit different so some cautious is called for from all of us.” Chris leaned forward, the flames in the fireplace creating uniquely creepy shadows on his face. “The nature of reality is torn.”
I shivered. There is something in the timber of Chris' voice that generates shivers. His voice rumbles like a bass speaker. “What does that mean exactly?”
“Exactly?” Chris echoed. He leaned back in his mighty chair. “Exactly I am not sure. I can provide an approximate explanation.”
“Ballpark will work for me.”
“Excellent.” See? Shivers. His 'excellent' sounds like it's the response to 'we just executed the traitors'. He means well and he's creepy at the same time. “As it was explained to us, the walls between realities are thin at the moment. Normally abnormal phenomenon will be much less abnormal until the walls can be strengthened, rebuilt if you will.”
“So it's being taken care of?” Chris nodded. “That's good to know. What do we do in the meantime? Anything?”
“We were told to be extra alert,” was Chris' response.
“That doesn't really help,” I noted. “What does that mean exactly?”
“You have an interest in precision today.” Chris smiled. “As I asked the same question, clearly so do I.”
“And you received no clear answer.”
“Quite correct Patrick. The goal of the warning appears to be to reduce future panic but all it did was to generate current panic. Perhaps we will collide with the inhabitants of a parallel world or an alternate dimension. Perhaps the Old Ones of legend will attempt to reclaim the Earth for themselves. Or, perhaps, we will see nothing.”
“Just the normal abnormal,” I quipped.
“Yes.”
“Well, you know I'm always keen to come visit,” I noted. “Getting a summons was a bit different.”
“The situation we find ourselves in is a bit different so some cautious is called for from all of us.” Chris leaned forward, the flames in the fireplace creating uniquely creepy shadows on his face. “The nature of reality is torn.”
I shivered. There is something in the timber of Chris' voice that generates shivers. His voice rumbles like a bass speaker. “What does that mean exactly?”
“Exactly?” Chris echoed. He leaned back in his mighty chair. “Exactly I am not sure. I can provide an approximate explanation.”
“Ballpark will work for me.”
“Excellent.” See? Shivers. His 'excellent' sounds like it's the response to 'we just executed the traitors'. He means well and he's creepy at the same time. “As it was explained to us, the walls between realities are thin at the moment. Normally abnormal phenomenon will be much less abnormal until the walls can be strengthened, rebuilt if you will.”
“So it's being taken care of?” Chris nodded. “That's good to know. What do we do in the meantime? Anything?”
“We were told to be extra alert,” was Chris' response.
“That doesn't really help,” I noted. “What does that mean exactly?”
“You have an interest in precision today.” Chris smiled. “As I asked the same question, clearly so do I.”
“And you received no clear answer.”
“Quite correct Patrick. The goal of the warning appears to be to reduce future panic but all it did was to generate current panic. Perhaps we will collide with the inhabitants of a parallel world or an alternate dimension. Perhaps the Old Ones of legend will attempt to reclaim the Earth for themselves. Or, perhaps, we will see nothing.”
“Just the normal abnormal,” I quipped.
“Yes.”
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