Watts (chipotle) wrote,
Watts
chipotle

So it's a quiet day at work, at least for me. Most of the panic attacks at NetPoodles involve other people. I should be working on a new file sharing system but I haven't been able to focus on it. (Maybe I should be going back to a little caffeine, since it was originally prescribed to counteract ADD. Really.)</p>

I've brought Peroxide into work, which I've done every day since I've bought it; I have a carrying case from Tom Bihn that'll be here on Friday. A lot of old-school MacHeads rage against OS X, but it seems to be allowing me to turn into a MacHead again finally. This morning Peroxide's task has been preparing a Microsoft Word version of my resumé based on the ASCII one that I've been tweaking. A recruiter emailed me on Friday about a possible job in Orlando as a "Web Content Developer"; I've read the job description--it's something I can do, although I am not a perfect match. I need to tweak the resumé to look like I'm as close to a perfect match as possible. More importantly, though, I need to find out what the company is, and what level of creativity there's going to be at work there.

The pay will not be substantially higher than I'm making now (the pay range is from what I'm making now to 10% higher, and if I can't get the extra 10% I'm not likely to make the move) and a commute from where I live will easily be 80 miles one way. Obviously, I'd want to move as soon as possible, probably even if it means breaking the lease. Fetting a job like this--closer to what I want (if it turns out to be such), but for only a modest pay increase and with a horrendous commute involved--would be what my friend Dusty dubs "coyote luck": my attempts to get up earlier in mornings would be shanghaied for a few months by the commute. Granted, moving would be tremendous incentive to get junk out of my apartment, and to perhaps keep the next apartment cleaner. (So far I'm doing a reasonably good job of keeping my new car cleaner than the last one.) As my usual refrain goes: we'll see what happens. I'm waiting for a call from the recruiter, which should happen... eventually. It's past 10:00 a.m. in St.. Louis, where she is. (A recruiter in Missouri, seeing if someone in Tampa is a match for a position she's trying to fill in Orlando. Entertaining, huh?)

On the writing front, things slowed considerably once I approached the 10,000-word mark, but I'm getting some work done on notes, bouncing between text editors and outliners and, yesterday, back to Dramatica as more answers to its questions become apparent. I can't say the plot of the story is thickening as much as it's becoming clearer where the points are that it needs to thicken. I'm really hoping I'll have doubled the word count of the actual draft by the time I'm flying out to Further Confusion at the end of the month. (An average of a thousand words a day is something I aspire to but rarely meet, even though there have been times I've done two or three thousand words in a night without a problem.)

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