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mass_hipgnosis Nov. 16th, 2008 05:49 pm)
mass_hipgnosis Nov. 16th, 2008 05:49 pm)ninja'd from ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ladyjanelly, who stole it from realpestilence, who swiped it from tigriswolf...
Grab the nearest book.
Open the book to page 56.
Go to the third paragraph.
Find the fifth sentence.
Post the text of the sentence in your journal along with these instructions.
Don't dig for your favorite book, the cool book, or the intellectual one: pick the CLOSEST.
"We have had no choice but to release the skeletal remains for burial, since it appears no trial will ever be held."
Dead Men Do Tell Tales, William R. Maples Ph.D. and Michael Browning.
This was at the top of the teetering stack on my night table; my idea of light bedtime reading is a little forensic anthropology, since if I start a fiction book I'll be up reading it all night.
"Go play in traffic."
That's what I did on Friday. As part of the whole my-government-is-paying-me-to-learn-stuff thing I've been doing, I got my traffic control certification (it's a four-hundred dollar course I was paid to take. My government is kickass awesome...except for the part where they suck. Minimum wage grumble grumble, anti-union sentiment grumble grumble). A big chunk of it is practical, in which we go out in full gear, cordon off a section of road, and stop, slow, and redirect ACTUAL traffic in various theoretical scenarios for NO ACTUAL REASON. Some of the drivers thought we were cops running a roadblock, since it was Friday and all. Some of them were really pissed off. Most of them were terribly confused. I scored a perfect on the practical demonstration and 97.5% on the written test. Go, me.
Here I am in my hard hat and incredibly stylish *LOL* high-vis raingear.
This is the stuff they make us wear so that there is no way a driver who runs us over could say he didn't see us. Not that they tell us that. But it's what they mean. And the Stop/Slow paddle is goddamn heavy. So I'm thinking. Traffic Control? Yeah, no thanks. Forklift certification on Monday! \o/
And about the whole my-government-is-paying-me-to-learn-stuff thing...
As a young woman looking to learn a trade, my government will not only pay for all appropriate training (fall protection, site safety, First Aid, confined space entry, traffic control, forklift operation, WHMIS, etc) outfit me appropriately for the workplace (steel-reinforced boots, wool socks, raingear, hard hat, tool belt, tools, ear and eye protection, etc, etc), and provide education and counselling for dealing with conflict, unsafe conditions, and prejudice due to the male/female dynamic in a male-dominated field, they will also pay me a wage while I am learning and find me employment once I am trained. My only obligations in this are to SHOW UP and TRY MY BEST. If I flunk out, or get fired, or decide a year from now that this is actually not what I want to do, I owe them nothing. I reiterate; my government is kickass awesome. If any American girls on the flist under 30 hate their job with an unholy passion and don't want to run up $100,000 in student debt to have a career, hit me up. I have no objections to a green card gay marriage that will give you the same bennies, and it doesn't snow that much in Vancouver. You can get in on the free medical care, too. *big evil grin*
ladyjanelly, who stole it from realpestilence, who swiped it from tigriswolf...Grab the nearest book.
Open the book to page 56.
Go to the third paragraph.
Find the fifth sentence.
Post the text of the sentence in your journal along with these instructions.
Don't dig for your favorite book, the cool book, or the intellectual one: pick the CLOSEST.
"We have had no choice but to release the skeletal remains for burial, since it appears no trial will ever be held."
Dead Men Do Tell Tales, William R. Maples Ph.D. and Michael Browning.
This was at the top of the teetering stack on my night table; my idea of light bedtime reading is a little forensic anthropology, since if I start a fiction book I'll be up reading it all night.
"Go play in traffic."
That's what I did on Friday. As part of the whole my-government-is-paying-me-to-learn-stuff thing I've been doing, I got my traffic control certification (it's a four-hundred dollar course I was paid to take. My government is kickass awesome...except for the part where they suck. Minimum wage grumble grumble, anti-union sentiment grumble grumble). A big chunk of it is practical, in which we go out in full gear, cordon off a section of road, and stop, slow, and redirect ACTUAL traffic in various theoretical scenarios for NO ACTUAL REASON. Some of the drivers thought we were cops running a roadblock, since it was Friday and all. Some of them were really pissed off. Most of them were terribly confused. I scored a perfect on the practical demonstration and 97.5% on the written test. Go, me.
Here I am in my hard hat and incredibly stylish *LOL* high-vis raingear.
This is the stuff they make us wear so that there is no way a driver who runs us over could say he didn't see us. Not that they tell us that. But it's what they mean. And the Stop/Slow paddle is goddamn heavy. So I'm thinking. Traffic Control? Yeah, no thanks. Forklift certification on Monday! \o/
And about the whole my-government-is-paying-me-to-learn-stuff thing...
As a young woman looking to learn a trade, my government will not only pay for all appropriate training (fall protection, site safety, First Aid, confined space entry, traffic control, forklift operation, WHMIS, etc) outfit me appropriately for the workplace (steel-reinforced boots, wool socks, raingear, hard hat, tool belt, tools, ear and eye protection, etc, etc), and provide education and counselling for dealing with conflict, unsafe conditions, and prejudice due to the male/female dynamic in a male-dominated field, they will also pay me a wage while I am learning and find me employment once I am trained. My only obligations in this are to SHOW UP and TRY MY BEST. If I flunk out, or get fired, or decide a year from now that this is actually not what I want to do, I owe them nothing. I reiterate; my government is kickass awesome. If any American girls on the flist under 30 hate their job with an unholy passion and don't want to run up $100,000 in student debt to have a career, hit me up. I have no objections to a green card gay marriage that will give you the same bennies, and it doesn't snow that much in Vancouver. You can get in on the free medical care, too. *big evil grin*
