... stays on YouTube.
Or so I've heard.
So last week was a crazy whirlwind of preperation. So many plans were in place, and so much needed to be accomplished in order to pull them off smoothly. Packing was in order, and not just packing, but packing for a very different climate. Directions needed printing. The guest room needed to be habitable. All the random crap we had removed from the closet needed to be neatly shoved aside to make room. All this to be done by Thursday.
Thursday night: J and I grabbed our tickets and drove to the arena, finding our seats and grabbing a couple drinks. We awaited the arrival of two more guests as the opening band (a rather mediocre and forgettable group) played. They arrived just in time, and soon it was the four of us in the nosebleed seats - me, my fiance, my brother, and my sis-in-law - awaiting the band we all came to see: Tool. Nosebleeds or not, we still had an awesome view of the stage, and our seats were in the only row of benches that actually had something resembling a backrest. Weird thing about Tool, though: Maynard doesn't like to be out with the rest of the band on stage. The first song was nearly over when I finally spotted him, hanging out by the drummer but off a little ways such that he was in the dark; none of the lights touched him, he was just a spectral presence at the back of the stage with a black tee-shirt and baseball cap. Apparently that's just how he rolls.
After several awesome songs and the most brilliantly mind-numbing drum-offs I think I will ever see in my life, he closed the night with a special cynical middle finger pointed at Los Angeles by playing Aenima. Maynard has a lot of juju he throws into his songs, and it wasn't surprising that one of the other fans we chatted with described him much like a warlock in some fashions. He is actually quite the well-read and well-studied fellow, rather well-educated in his Crowley and other such authors, so I wouldn't be at all surprised that he does a bit of enery-play on the stage. So when the crowd sang Aenima with him, it became less a song and something between a chant and a prayer, which was a little scary when I thought about it... I mean, I live in one of those spots that would sink into the ocean if Maynard had his 'druthers. I think. I don't know. He's an odd fellow. Maybe he knows LA is as much disliked by the rest of SoCal as by himself.
Anyway. Got home late (much contributed to by ass-hattery in the parking garage) and stayed up even later talking and drinking rum-and-cokes (which were my lame substitute for buying my brother a drink in celebration of his long non-smoking run). In the wee hours of the morning we finally all crashed out, having squeezed as much face-time in as possible before bed. I pledged that I would buy my brother a REAL drink when I saw him again.
Friday morning I got up early, packed the last on my toiletries, and printed out my boarding pass. Brother and sis-in-law took me to the airport, where I breezed through security and waited for a bit, chatting with some random girl about my Rubix cube. We had a grand ol' conversation, during which she pointed out a group of ladies - ranging between 20 and 60 - all laughing and kicking up a riot in the bar nearby. We boarded right behind them, and I ended up sitting with them: turns out they were all celebrating one of the younger ladies' birthday. Specifically, her 21st birthday. And really, what better way to spend it than in Vegas?
I touched down in Vegas around noon after a great flight with a bunch of crack-up stewardesses. It only took me a little getting lost, but I did eventually find the rest of my group: the bridal party and bride, for whom we were in Vegas, celebrating her bachelorette party.
That evening we dined at a tasty buffet (with a chocolate fountain and ice-cream machine... yum!), got gussied up, and booked it to the New York New York to catch a show: Cirque du Soleil's "Zumanity". One HELL of a show of limber and muscular men and women in very little, doing all kinds of incredible performances of strength and flexibility. Having had very little sleep, I crashed early (the rest of the girls went exploring). We all slept in, had mimosas at the brunch buffet, then wandered around the forum shops. When we got back, we spent a good few solid hours in the pool, sliding down the waterslides and generally enjoying each other's company. Afterwards, we rinsed off and made our evening plans, but I started to feel under the weather. Sadly, I ended up staying in due to feeling ill, but when they all came back, they shared the pictures from the night's festivities with me.
Sunday morning we dragged ourselves out of bed, cleaned up and packed, then checked out. The rest of the girls were flying out around noon; my plane wasn't due to leave until 9PM. I wandered the city, checking out the Bellagio lobby, the Conservatory, riding the tram, walking to the MGM Grand, taking pictures of the lions (and the cubs! squee!), and catching the monorail all the way back to the hotel. I grabbed my swimsuit, and spent two and a half hours at the pool, intermittantly sunning and swimming. Finally, getting really homesick and rather lonely (Vegas is NOT the kind of place I enjoy solo), I rinsed off, changed, and grabbed a shuttle to the airport. I looked for an earlier flight, nabbed one, and was home before 8:30PM.
A long, fantastic weekend, full of fun, sun, and awesome shows with awesome company. But I'm happy to be home now, snuggling with my dearheart. No hottie stripper, superstar rocker, or high-rolling gambler could ever take my sweetheart's place in my heart.
July 19, 2010
July 06, 2010
Jobness!
I figured I owed people an explanation about my new job. Enough people have asked that I thought maybe I could get it all out in one fell swoop. So!
I got a call from my temp agency - which is apparently not a "temp" agency so much anymore but a perm-to-hire and/or direct-placement agency - about a job with a pathologist. At least, that's what I thought they said. Turned out to be for a lab that specializes in pathology-type stuffs. We'll get to that. Had a phone interview that went swimmingly, joking with the interviewer and relating on multiple levels, vetching about the dryness of Milton and sympathizing on generation gaps. At the end of it, he said I was one of the "5% of people who are fun to interview on the phone", and gave me a bunch of his contact info. A few days later I had a face-to-face interview, during which I got to be pround of my obessive need for organization and talk about obscure medical facts I learned from my dad and fiance. Eyebrows were raised in surprise. They complimented me a lot. We struck up conversations and had a blast. A few days later I was hired... for %25 more pay than I have EVER earned.
Things have settled in, but nothing is ever exactly the same each day. I've got a routine, sort of, since I need to basically get all the phone calls done by a certain point in the day in order to make contact with the vast majority of our clients, who are on the East Coast. The rest of the day is data entry... or, maybe it's copying. Faxing? No, filing. How about going through that old box of charts and finding out what the heck they were pulled for? Sure, boss, I can do that. And pull these charts: we need to ask for ICD codes. No problem. When you're done there, can you check with the lead scientist-doctor-lady to see where she's at with reviewing results? Don't forget to mark those charts as QNS. Oh hey, what have we here...
It's never dull. Things are always moving, and the system is malleable, evolving. The company is growing - and fast - so we're having to adapt and fill in gaps we didn't even know we had until someone asked, "hey, what about this?". The people here are awesome: smart, quick-witted, funny, educated, friendly, relaxed, and laid back without a hint of laziness. Everyone here is on top of their game. It's a hive of activity, with all the little bees bustling about their business to get the work done.
And the work is...
I would say glorious, but there is no glory here. Only what must be done, what SHOULD be done. Honor, perhaps. Thinking about it on the ride to work this morning, it occurred to me that I am part of the war on cancer.
The lab has two functions: cancer research, and cancer identification. The researchers research. It's what they do. The rest of us let them work, their brows furrowed in concentration as they work to perfect the test we use to identify cancer types. The rest of us test samples, identifying tumors for sources of cancer: this is based in the liver, this one in the stomach, this one in the lungs.
This is not what I do personally, but I am an integral part in making the process work. If there is in fact a "War on Cancer", the patient is the front line. They are the battleground AND the militia, the contested and the defense. The Oncologist is the General, the Pathologist his Strategist, both planning and ordering the best way to identify and counter the attacks. The labs are the arms manufacturers - creating the weapons to be used best on the battle ground - and the intelligence centers - cracking the codes, collecting information, and identifying the enemy. Our lab is of the latter kind. We take a sample of the tissue, when the doctors come up clueless as to where the origin of the cancer resides, and we run it against an enormous database of tumor samples to identify the type of cancer we're dealing with. Our accuracy is incredible.
We are the people in the back lines, in the little tent in the rear-base, listening in on the enemy's communications and triangulating their whereabouts. We find their base, so that the surgical strike-team can go in and attack the cancer directly, limiting the damage to the patient's system.
What we do is crucial.
And even though I'm far removed from the front line, even though I'm as far back in that little back tent as you can get, what I do is still very important to the process, and because of me the lab can run smoothly, swiftly cranking out accurate results to Oncologists so that the patient can get the right treatment that much faster.
THAT is my new job. And I am DAMN proud of it.
I got a call from my temp agency - which is apparently not a "temp" agency so much anymore but a perm-to-hire and/or direct-placement agency - about a job with a pathologist. At least, that's what I thought they said. Turned out to be for a lab that specializes in pathology-type stuffs. We'll get to that. Had a phone interview that went swimmingly, joking with the interviewer and relating on multiple levels, vetching about the dryness of Milton and sympathizing on generation gaps. At the end of it, he said I was one of the "5% of people who are fun to interview on the phone", and gave me a bunch of his contact info. A few days later I had a face-to-face interview, during which I got to be pround of my obessive need for organization and talk about obscure medical facts I learned from my dad and fiance. Eyebrows were raised in surprise. They complimented me a lot. We struck up conversations and had a blast. A few days later I was hired... for %25 more pay than I have EVER earned.
Things have settled in, but nothing is ever exactly the same each day. I've got a routine, sort of, since I need to basically get all the phone calls done by a certain point in the day in order to make contact with the vast majority of our clients, who are on the East Coast. The rest of the day is data entry... or, maybe it's copying. Faxing? No, filing. How about going through that old box of charts and finding out what the heck they were pulled for? Sure, boss, I can do that. And pull these charts: we need to ask for ICD codes. No problem. When you're done there, can you check with the lead scientist-doctor-lady to see where she's at with reviewing results? Don't forget to mark those charts as QNS. Oh hey, what have we here...
It's never dull. Things are always moving, and the system is malleable, evolving. The company is growing - and fast - so we're having to adapt and fill in gaps we didn't even know we had until someone asked, "hey, what about this?". The people here are awesome: smart, quick-witted, funny, educated, friendly, relaxed, and laid back without a hint of laziness. Everyone here is on top of their game. It's a hive of activity, with all the little bees bustling about their business to get the work done.
And the work is...
I would say glorious, but there is no glory here. Only what must be done, what SHOULD be done. Honor, perhaps. Thinking about it on the ride to work this morning, it occurred to me that I am part of the war on cancer.
The lab has two functions: cancer research, and cancer identification. The researchers research. It's what they do. The rest of us let them work, their brows furrowed in concentration as they work to perfect the test we use to identify cancer types. The rest of us test samples, identifying tumors for sources of cancer: this is based in the liver, this one in the stomach, this one in the lungs.
This is not what I do personally, but I am an integral part in making the process work. If there is in fact a "War on Cancer", the patient is the front line. They are the battleground AND the militia, the contested and the defense. The Oncologist is the General, the Pathologist his Strategist, both planning and ordering the best way to identify and counter the attacks. The labs are the arms manufacturers - creating the weapons to be used best on the battle ground - and the intelligence centers - cracking the codes, collecting information, and identifying the enemy. Our lab is of the latter kind. We take a sample of the tissue, when the doctors come up clueless as to where the origin of the cancer resides, and we run it against an enormous database of tumor samples to identify the type of cancer we're dealing with. Our accuracy is incredible.
We are the people in the back lines, in the little tent in the rear-base, listening in on the enemy's communications and triangulating their whereabouts. We find their base, so that the surgical strike-team can go in and attack the cancer directly, limiting the damage to the patient's system.
What we do is crucial.
And even though I'm far removed from the front line, even though I'm as far back in that little back tent as you can get, what I do is still very important to the process, and because of me the lab can run smoothly, swiftly cranking out accurate results to Oncologists so that the patient can get the right treatment that much faster.
THAT is my new job. And I am DAMN proud of it.
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