Skip to main content

Return of the Blog

No, I'm not dead.

And no, I've not given up on the blog. Not yet. If I were to try to describe how busy I have been over the last few weeks, your head would probably explode - and I can't very well have you messing up my nice clean blog, can I? Just trust me when I say that I've had precious little time to do much of anything in the last little while, and what free time I did have went to important computer gaming in order to save my remaining sanity.

The play has been going quite well. Much better than was generally expected, actually, so I really encourage you to come and see it if you haven't yet. Just thought I'd mention it.

I got a new job this week. Yes, its a big deal. As you are aware if you have read my blog at all before, [understatement coming] I didn't really like my previous job [understatement finished]. So I now have a brand new job closer to home in a more typical office setting.

The problem with having a degree in English (well, one of the problems) is that the kind of work you end up doing is difficult to explain in casual conversation when somebody asks, "Oh, what do you do?" It was especially difficult for this job since I wasn't even sure what I was going to be doing, exactly, until Tuesday. So whenever I got "the question," it would go something like this:

ME: Hey, I got a new job!

THEM: Great! Where?

ME: This place in Orem.

THEM: Really, what's it called?

ME: Amacai?

THEM: Oh.... (blank look) So, what do you do?

ME: Um.... its technical.

THEM: Technical?

ME: You know.... web.. computer.... stuff.....

THEM: Ah.... well, good luck with that.

With the general result that I felt like a complete moron. Now I know exactly what I do at work, but its no easier to explain. I'm doing taxonomy of databases, but that hardly means anything to anybody. That could be an advantage, however. For instance, if somebody asks what I do I can just say, as I did last night, "I'm a taxonomist" which sounds impressive and mysterious enough. What it means is that I spend my time categorizing businesses and services into hierarchies and subcategories for yellow page-like databases. It sounds really boring, I know, but I really like it so far. It's right up my alley. But by using a big word like "taxonomy" I hope to scare people off from asking more questions. I want them just to accept that I have a very important job with a big, strange name and simply be impressed. I can't go answering silly specific questions about what I actually do!

The problem only comes when somebody actually knows what taxonomy is. Typically, it applies to the categorization of animal species, which is something people might genuinely be impressed by. Here's what happened last night:

ME: (smugly) I'm a taxonomist.

THEM: (excited) Wow! So you categorize and classify animal species and specimens?

ME: um.... I categorize!...... stuff....

THEM: (disappointed) Oh.... I see.

That's what I get for being pretentious. And I'm not the only one at work with this problem. I was discussing this with a coworker yesterday, and he said that he just tells people he "maps databases." I think thats fine, but it seems a little lackluster. With just a little word substituition, we can make the job sound much more exciting than that. I suggest a few simple changes: we replace the word "maps" with "shoots" and the word "databases" with "terrorists." Presto! Nobody thinks you are wasting your life anymore!

A little imagination can go a long way....

Comments

Anonymous said…
Two Gents Review:
I LOVED IT, I LOVED IT, I LOVED IT!
Wowee! It was SO good, Matt!
Shameless Promotion: everyone who hasn't seen it, go see it! Its the best BYU production I've ever seen, and one of the best plays I've ever seen in general. The acting is phenominal, as are the costumes, set, music and cool technological effects. Wow.
I think I'm comming to see it again. Say Jay

Popular posts from this blog

The Only Thing We Have to Fear...

It's October, which means not only do I get to start dipping into my nifty fall wardrobe but also that Halloween is upon us. I think its great that we devote specific holidays to various basic emotions of the human psyche. Halloween = fear, Valentine's day = love, Thanksgiving = gratitude, St. Patrick's Day = envy, and Christmas = greed. We're just missing wrath, lust, pride, sloth, gluttony, and inadequecy. Clearly, more holidays are necessary. But that's a subject for another day. We don't want to give Halloween less than its due. Because seriously, how cool is Halloween? Its way off the scale on the cool-o-meter. When else can you see even the most pious and sensible people indulging in a little of the supernatural and occult by dressing up their children as vampires, witches, or ghosts? Well, that's how it was back in my day anyway (which was soooooo long ago), but today kids dress up as Jedi, princesses, Harry Potter, or Spiderman. They are totally miss

I like Superman, but I love Clark Kent...

I like Superman, but I love Clark Kent. Though, despite the elaborate disguise Consisting of a single pair of bent, Simple specs, they're not two different guys But only one, still I said what I meant: I like Superman, but I love Clark Kent. I like Superman, but I love Clark Kent I guess because one of them's more like me And does not always get what he wants And struggles with our vulnerability. And does not by his perfection command The adoration of every woman and man But sits in the back, with nothing to say Just hoping that Lois Lane looks his way. She doesn't - her eyes are glued to the sky. Wake up, Lois! Can't you see the guy Waiting to love you with all of his might? He may not leap buildings, he may not fly, He may not see through you with x-ray eyes, He might need YOUR help, if that's alright, From time to time, when his mortal heart cries. He combs his hair neatly and fights through the crowd, Decides what to say, and rehearses out loud, He summons his

God Bless Us, Every One

Call me a Scrooge, but I've found that the last couple of years Christmas just hasn't carried the same sense of wonder and excitement it once did. When I was a kid, I was ready to pee my pants every day in December just thinking about the twenty-fifth, which crept closer so slowly that the month was always filled with blissfully tortuous anticipation. The sense of suspense, the agony of not knowing what the fantastically wrapped boxes contained, was only heightened by the lights, the music, the snow, and everything you knew meant it was Christmas time. Back then, my heart's desires cost about twenty bucks and, tragically, seemed both completely unobtainable and the key to my whole life's happiness. This was the season, then, when miracles of a very practical kind could happen; objects only admired on the shelf, or at a friend's, or in some abstract sense of obsession could literally become my own and wind up, eventually, in pieces somewhere in my closet. I like to c