A Most Unflattering Resume

This has not been a good year for my library.  They've been assuaged by twin floodings that damaged some of their priceless historical ancient books that they were in the process of scanning.  Furthermore, the building continued to receive leaks from bad plumbing through the roof.  It got so bad that plastic coverings had to be added to the main floor, and the microwave was relocated to a drier place.  And just as they were getting ready to make restocked and organized books available to the public, it was discovered that the building was developing mold in the walls, and the owner wouldn't go out of his way to fumigate the area.  So the decision was made to pack up all the stuff we'd spent the past year organizing and move them to a new location, making all our efforts a Sisyphean ordeal.

To add to my woes, I've been suspended for behaving inappropriately at their new address.  The new place is markedly different from what I'm used to.  Unlike the previous location which had the majority of their archive in a storeroom that was cave-dark (no light other than fluorescent), the new place had open windows from all directions, making me feel rather nervous.  Even though I tried to concentrate on my task of putting the books back on the shelves, I still displayed actions that though rational to me, was considered rebellious and off-putting to everyone else.  The staff eventually grew tiresome of my antics, and had me sent home early.  Their confusion was understandable - they've never seen me when I'm nervous, so they had no idea how to react.  I'm perfectly fine when in a stable work environment, the key word being a "stable".  When I can adhere to a normal routine, there's no problem, but my schedule falls apart when things go slightly off kilter, and thus my co-workers become uneasy around my antics, and I've had to be let go because of these incidents.

Sadly this isn't the first time that I've been put on suspended leave.  All my past jobs have had instances where I've been fired or let go once my contract reached their end of term, despite my work ethics.  It wasn't pointed out until recently that there were little... HABITS of mine that were counterproductive to working in a work environment.  The thing was, I had NO IDEA that what I was doing was disruptive, simply because everybody was too polite (or scared) to tell me. Hence, I kept getting laid off with no understanding why, while people who were more sociable kept staying around, because they were less trouble.  Like a puppy diddling on the rug, I have to be caught and told what I'm doing is wrong, otherwise the lesson won't sink in.  Since then, I've been doing some intense training to try to wean myself off these reoccurring problems so that I won’t scare off any potential hiring clients who would be willing to keep me on the job.

But even with these programs in place, I still tend to make silly mistakes, simply because I have no inkling that I'm doing anything wrong.  Before that, I used to do the following behaviors that made me undesirable for repeat business.  It would've been helpful to know these facts beforehand, otherwise I might've not gotten me laid off so often.  Hopefully, these horror examples can prevent someone else from going down the path I did.

Getting Upset about being Shown my Mistakes

Pretty much no one likes to make a mistake, let alone admit that they'd made one.  However, my fault was that I would get visibly upset whenever anything I'd done wasn't done satisfactory, or to my employer's request.  Like if I'd done a spreadsheet with five layers, and I'd erroneously filled in four of them, I would get VERY MAD and actually scream and hit myself for allowing such a transgression for taking place to ensure that it wouldn't happen again.  While this cathartic behavior helped ensure some physical muscle memory in punishing myself to ensure that this wouldn't happen again, it played havoc with my employer's sensibilities, since they became shocked at my reaction and felt less inclined to give me more work.  Because of my harsh reaction to criticism, my productivity dropped to zero, since they couldn't find anything they'd want to give me without fear of a bad reaction.

Being a perfectionist, I would also be visibly upset whenever any mistakes were pointed out to me, and I would always lash out and yell at myself for overlooking such an obvious oversight.  This constant barrage of self-criticism meant that the people I was working with didn't like showing me the error of my ways, and eventually started giving me less and less work for me to do so I wouldn't be too upset.  Eventually, my work output was reduced to zero because my employers were worried about how I would react.  I've been taking lessons to restrain myself when receiving critical feedback.  It’s not easy resisting the impulse to instantly want to correct what little mishap I've done without listening to every little thing that I did wrong.  Also, I have a tendency to not wait until the speaker’s finished talking, and barrel along with my assumptions without hearing the end of their sentences.  It’s easier for me to receive written criticisms, because I can know when the conversation ends, and can go back and reread any passages I've skipped over, and not worry about having to memorize every single word I’m being told.

My tendency to be Bluntly Honest

I once said to a supervisor who was on a smoke break "YOU STINK".  At the time, I'd been told that so many times when I didn't feel like changing my clothes or taking a shower that I thought it was typical conversational fare.  That, and I was told I could talk to them about anything.  Not to mention that the smell of coffee and cigarettes drive me crazy.  (I'm no addict to the twin stimulants that's the fuel to every writer - give me a good chocolate bar any day)  Every instinct in my body tells me to "GET OUT", and the fact that I couldn't leave weighed heavily on me.

In addition, I’m notoriously honest about when I’m feeling upset, and make no bare bones to hide my disgust if my boss doesn't show the kind of intellect I expect them to be capable of.  I don’t like the idea of having to hide my feelings just to make people feel comfortable, and will shy away from saying “hello” first thing in the morning, when I’d rather be working.  One such instance was where I instantly jumped on my boss asking for advice on how they wanted the material done, THEN once I got my answer, I remembered the rules of civility and said “good morning”.

Personal Preferences Impeding upon Work Situations

When I was assigned to do some fact-checking, I argued against how they wanted me to do the job.  They didn't want me to use a pen for checking, because mistakes couldn't be easily erased.  Whereas, I tried to reassure them that I would be careful and not do any mistakes.  The conversation kept going in circles because I wouldn't back down from my position.  Truth was, I didn't want to use pencils, because I didn't like the feel of pencils, because the sensation of rubbing lead against paper always sent shivers down my spine,  very much like running fingernails on a chalkboard.  (Even the very thought of running my fingernails on a chalkboard makes my whole body in goosebumps, because I can't imagine how hard it would be on my fingertips)  Ironically enough, in Grade school, I was perfectly fine using pencils, and was reluctant to use pens, because I was worried about making mistakes.  Now that I've crossed over to the sleek use of pens, it's hard for me to switch back.  (I've now compensated by using soft lead pencils my sister uses for rough art drafts)

Mind Blindness

I have a tendency to be totally mindblind and open to the rookiest of rookie mistakes.  There was the time there was a fire drill, and everybody had to evacucate the building.  Naturally, I was claustrophobic being crowded around so many people, and didn't like being out in the sun, so while everybody was grouped together out in the open, I got on a bus far away from the maddening crowd and got off near a park in the shade.  Soon afterwards when I saw everybody getting back into the building from a distance, I made my way back and resumed working.  Only, the people in the office thought I went home, because they saw me getting on the bus, and I neglected to tell anybody that I did so to put myself at ease.  I suppose I should've re-introduced myself upon re-entering the office, but I didn't want to make too much of a fuss as I got back to work.

Dealing with Small Talk

If you ask me about the weather, I’ll easily give you an opinionated answer.  But ask me an open-ended question, such as how I’m feeling, a TV episode I saw, or what I had for breakfast, I’ll flounder around trying to summarize every single element of what I've experienced into a concise answer.  Part of the problem is that I have trouble remembering events that happened to me in my life that I was witness to.  Oftentimes, the very procedure of memorizing everything that happens to me is so painful that I willfully blank it out until the relevancy comes up later.  Oftentimes when I’ll be criticized for losing my temper at certain times, I’ll be agonized over the fact that I suffered a momentary lapse of judgement.  If it happened a long time ago, I’ll be surprised that such a thing happened to me back when I was still young and foolish.  (Now I’m older, but still make foolish mistakes)

Clarifying my Problems

On a related topic, I also have trouble telling people what I'm having personal problems with, since I'm likely to be hyped up on inner turmoil, and may not be able to get my message across clearly.  This is further amplified by my speech, which is exacerbated by my excitement, which results in me talking faster, and may sound confusing to the listener.  Usually it takes retreating to a calmer environment and writing down whatever's bothering me in the first place to clarify things, since I'm more eloquent in prose than speech.  This can only be achieved once the problem's dealt with.  This Catch-22 situation has oftentimes caught me unawares because I'm constantly thrust into situations I've never been before.

The good news is that for every instance that I get stressed over, I acquire an immunity for, and won't be so stressed out the next time.  The bad news is that I haven't been in enough unique situations that would qualify for dealing with different scenarios, and I still wind up freaking out anybody in my vicinity.  Oftentimes, I feel more comfortable by attempting to solve my problem myself without involving outsiders.

Long Work Hours

After a strenuous day of work, it takes me a long time to wind down.  Doing activities, such as reading, watching TV, playing V-games, and other fun stuff helps relax me.  And having to worry about getting up on time the next day just compounds to the stress.  It also doesn't help that I'm a night owl, and get my greatest creative juices in the middle of the night, when there's minimal distractions abound.

I'm normally claustrophobic around people, especially when I have to be surrounded by a large crowd in the bus, and do my uttermost best to avoid being in these situations.  So it's important for me to have a job where I can arrive early to beat the mad rush of civilians on their way to their workplace, and also avoid the glare of the sunrise.  Following that logic, I don't like spending more time than necessary on needless breaks, because the longer I spend at work, the higher the chance that I'll be stuck in traffic on the way home, and it'll take me more time to wind down for the next day.  The flip side of this is that while I'm able to work a long time on a specific task, I'm not capable of keeping up this routine on a regular basis, and need some serious downtime in order to revive myself for the next day.  Otherwise, I'd wind up more stressed out at work before the week was out.  This leads into my next problem:

Inability to take breaks

I find it almost impossible to take a break.  Taking break times mean that I'm not working; ergo, I'm not getting paid, and I have to stay longer to finish the hours I'm due.  Not to mention that the longer I stay, the higher the chances are that I'll get stuck in a traffic jam on the way home.  That's more stress I don't need.

Normally, when I say that I prefer to work on my own without prying eyes interfering with my work ethic, I get the impression that I'm really using my employer's absence as an excuse to goof off while they're not looking.  (Of course, I still need to be coached on what I'm doing)  While that's true up to a point, my work ethic prevents me from actually wasting the full working hours in doing so.  I simply can't conceive of taking a break while I'm in the midst of a working streak and don't want anything that'll impede my ongoing progress.

This has led to some problematic scenarios where I have trouble taking breaks for an extended amount of time.  I can't take a lunch hour that lasts longer than five minutes.  It takes that long to finish my meal, and once I'm done, I'm hard pressed to find anything else to do to fill in the rest of the time.  I'm loath to pass the time by reading a book of mine, since I reserve my reading material for when I'm on the bus or toilet.  (Taking bathroom breaks is another problem I have, since I'm never quiet sure how long I should stay in the can and get back to work, discomfort at constipation be damned)  Talking to people is another hurdle, since I run out of conversational material faster than a Sports car runs out of oil.

Dressing in casual clothes

I'm overly sensitive to sights and sensations that normal people would ignore, such as bright light and constant movement, such as people going back and forth in front of a door entrance.  If I'm not comfortable, I can't concentrate and focus on the job, which becomes detrimental to my work production.  While I can wear a shirt with a collar, it needs to be a cotton shirt, soft, and my pants have to be heavy-duty corduroy pants that are slightly baggy, and fits firmly around the waist without a belt.  I HATE wearing ties, and have never even bothered tried to memorize the knotty pattern required to twist the clothing noose into its particular shape.  I have ONE special tie reserved for special occasions, and it's left perpetually slightly loose, for easy slipping inside and out of the neck.  No need to bother redoing the tie when I've got my own singular reliable system on hand.

Also, I'm extremely sensitive to overhead light, and need to relieve myself of any external stimuli that might cause me undue stress, and I go out of my way to avoid such stimuli by beating the rush of traffic jams and crowded pedestrians by arriving at work early before the sun gets up.  One of the most reliable ways to avoid bright light is to wear a baseball cap that helps block out the overhead lights.  However, wearing caps isn't exactly conductive to an office environment, but that's fine, since I'm more comfortable working behind the scenes in the background where there's less interaction with the public and employees.  If I didn't have to handle dealing with people on a regular basis, working would be almost tolerable.  Sadly, a human-free environment doesn't exist yet.

Not double-checking / Lack of Judgement

When given a task I'm told to do, I'll say "Right, I'm on it", and turn around to get started without even bothering to listen to the rest of the description, and get it wrong, because I assumed I knew what my employer wanted.  Thing is, I have a terrible auditory memory, and can't retain what I'm told without taking notes.  I can't cope dealing with a long list of verbal instructions without knowing when they'll end.  It's easier for me to follow instructions if they're written beforehand so I can analyze them at my leisure, and not get caught in the trap of "trick" questions, such as after a long list of instructions, I'm only supposed to follow #2 on the list.  But bosses are generally used to telling employees what to do rather than do a bullet point form of the job description, so this method doesn't quite work very well.

Oftentimes, I don't bother to double-check to make sure that I understood my orders.  This has led to instances where my co-workers are upset that I didn't do the job properly, because I neglected to listen to a vital piece of information, and wound up doing it the wrong way for hours without stopping to check whether it was done right or not.  Nevermind doing my job without a single mistake - if the prospect of the job is shaky from the start, then the whole foundation collapses underneath the structure.  This lack of foresight results in wasted time for both of us.  Me, in having to redo everything all over again the right way, and my boss having to double-check the work I should've caught the first time around.

Leaving a Mess and not Putting Stuff away

I have a compulsive need to have my work area organized in a specific manner that’s “just so”, and will remain consistent even after I leave.  I don’t like the idea of having to constantly put all my workstuff out in the open, only to have to put them away at the end of the day, when I’ll just come back and do it all over again.  I'm somewhat absent-minded, and can leave dozens of reminders I've jotted down taken from inspiration or sources that I'll claim to use later, and then forget about them until I find them again.  And this same principle applies to work.  I'm loath to changing my workplace desk if I'm in the process of organizing something, and have to put away all the files and folders before I'm ready.  I prefer to leave the workstation as it is until the next day when I'll have more time to complete the job.  Trouble is, people apparently frown down on leaving a messy workplace, even if the employee is highly efficient.

Doing things MY way

This is a major issue of mine, and ties in with some of the previous problems mentioned.  I'm not satisfied with doing something unless I feel comfortable doing it.  Oftentimes, the intents of my boss and mine clash, and are very different from what I'm used to.  If there's a personal conflict between how the job should be done, and how I feel it should be done, I'm called out for not following instructions to the letter.  This results in me thinking my boss is an idiot, and my boss thinking I'm an idiot.  This can be attributed to the Cowboy Cop who plays against the rules, but manages to save the day in the end.  I've spent so much time identifying with the lone rebel archetype that when it comes to actually knowing when to obey, I fail to tell the difference.  Thus in a battle of priorities, I wind up bringing the molehill to the mountain.

Ironically enough, some of the jobs I've been let go of were part of a job-seeking organization designed to find work for people with disabilities, and they were totally unaccustomed to deal with a client of theirs working from the inside.  Apparently, their ability at being able to find working environments for disabled people met a blind spot when it came to me.

Admission of Guilt

When I was studying Library Science, I was taking supplementary courses to even out my schedule and gain credits to fill out my required dossier.  At first, I tried to adhere to the normal schedule of 8 courses a week, but the overall routine proved to be too nerve-wracking to me, so it was suggested that I take a reduced workload by only taking half the required classes during a semester and concentrating on the tougher classes later.  As a result, a typical 3-year program took me almost twice as long to complete.  But I managed to earn my diploma in that field despite the hurdles in my way.  So what if I had to take the longer route to reach my goal?  The fact is, I made it, which, as has been pointed out, is more than other people in my position have accomplished.  (Even so, I don't see what's so great about doing what anybody else could've done)

In between these library classes, there were optional classes that I found more interesting than my regular field, such as creative writing, English... pretty much anything that required me to use my imagination.  One of these was for a study in Media science and the other was an animation course.  As tribute to my last year there, I had the video capture the inside and outside trappings of the College.  It's recommended that you watch the Youtube videos first so you'll have some idea of what I'm talking about below.  I've left out potential spoilers just in case.

Admission of Guilt was largely inspired by an encounter I had with a beggar in the subway.  This guy somehow zoomed in on me and hit me up for change.  Feeling somewhat annoyed by his behavior, I gave him a nickle in the hope that he'd back off.  He didn't.  He seemed practically insulted by the meagre amount I'd so generously given him.  I backed off, trying to avoid his death glare, and got on the metro that'd just come up.  But my reprieve was short-lived - for some reason, he decided to follow me to the next station.  Thus, this video was what I would've liked to do if the conditions were convenient and I was brave enough to attempt such a thing to his face.

The intelligible rant my character displays near the end is emblematic of how I perceive people talking when I can't understand a word they're saying.  I can capture the glimpses of the occasional word and gesture here and there, but the overall message is lost in a sea of the universal language that is gibberish.

For years, I sporadically displayed this short video to friends and acquaintances who'd expressed interest in my little project, and showed it to them, though I could never bring myself to watch my feature presentation multiple times.  I just quietly left the room being careful not to stare at my guest and waited for the laughter to end.  The short wait time of under five minutes made this interminable period more bearable.  So when an opportunity came to show my little video to a wider audience, I grudgingly rose up to the task of converting it to a computer file.  I originally had the option to have my video as a Realplayer copy, but declined, feeling confident that VHS tapes would last into the next decade.  I'm a creative visionary for fictional works, but a hopeless cause for predicting my future.

The presentation was for a group gathering of a joint operation dealing with Deaf and Blind clients, and their creative output.  Originally, I wasn't going to attend, since their program was going to include poetry and artwork, but when their options expanded to include videos, I reconsidered and decided to make the most of this and use this opportunity to present my College finale to a wider audience.

For this gathering, it was a requirement that we to write a short biographical description of ourselves next to our displays.  Other people wrote about where they came from, what they did growing up and where they went to school.  However, since I had no idea of how to write up an account of my life, and didn't see my deafness or Aspergers as relevant to my output, I just wrote any old thing that came to mind that would fill in the blanks:

Daniel Basch Tetreault created these shorts while in the Creative Media and Animation classes.
A longtime pervoyeur and observer of humour, he enjoys creating stories that can be enjoyed by all ages and wants to create stories that will stand the test of time.
Once an idea enters his head, he can't relax until it's put down, no matter how difficult it is to convey.
His philosophy is: All things are possible, and all things are impossible.
Why be satisfied with aiming for the moon when you can knock that baseball clear out the known confines of the galaxy and beyond?

It's a shame his artistic skills don't quite match his creative drive.

However, before the audience would get a chance to see these exhibits on display, there was a presentation on helping older people dealing with their hearing loss (which I'd helped out with), and I felt uncomfortable sitting there watching the speaker go through the same material that I'd helped set up.  The thing is, even though I'm deaf, I've never really warmed up to the Deaf culture.  Technical details and technologies as well as personal stories about deafness bore me to tears.  I can't go through a deaf seminar without yawning.  But that wasn't what spurred me to leave the auditorium.  There was an interpreter present, but her speech manner was amateurish, and there wasn't time to point out her faults.  But that didn't discourage me that much either.  The clincher was a display board that showed what the speaker was saying.  If you've ever seen close captioning for the news, you'll know that there will be the occasional lull before a ream of text will suddenly scroll down with the occasional mispronunciation.  What bothered me was all the spelling mistakes that kept popping up, underlined in red, and at an agonizingly slow pace.  My stomach kept churning at not being able to correct these glaring inconsistencies, and I walked out.

Once free in the confines of outside and in range of elbow room, I looked in vain for a comfortable spot for me to read until my turn came up.  After wandering the hallways for several minutes looking for a particular spot that met my fussy needs, I eventually found a secluded spot and started relieving my built-up tension by reading the latest Jim Butcher's Dresden Files novels, Cold Days.  By the time I felt relieved, my window of opportunity to be present and show off my videos had already passed, and the majority of the audience had left.  (Nobody could find me and tell me it was my turn)  For some reason, the DVD I copied the videos on didn't work automatically, and had to be played manually.  As a result, only a handful of people saw the fruits of my labours.  To make up for this glaring oversight, I figured it was high time I share my results with the audience who'd missed my presence the first time around.

But I'm notoriously shy when it comes to sharing personal projects.  I've always been my own worst critic when it comes to showing my stuff.  In fact, I spent the past month pretty much agonizing over whether to share these works on my blog.  I don't like to see my face, since I don't care much for keeping up appearances, and hate how I look.   When I see photos of me, I look the other way.  Showing these videos would be extremely risky, since it would mean showing my face over the internet.

Though I probably shouldn't have been too worried.  When I shared this among my Facebook friends, I got fifteen hits, and two of those were mine.  It's somewhat infuriating straddling the thin line between wanting people to pay attention to you, and staying out of the spotlight.  The reason I've stayed far from prying eyes is mostly related to the annoying flashing lights from cameras that are always present at public gatherings.  The era of unobtrusive cell phone cameras can't come fast enough for me.

Here's my notes for the animated segments:

Ball is my attempt at animating my avatar sneezing.  I have to apologize for the low resolution.  It must've been even more difficult for my audience to see what was happening.  Furthermore, I foolishly threw away my cell originals since they were taking up too much room, so I can't redo them in heavy ink.
Sword Fight was inspired by the climatic fight between Ogami Itto and Retsudo Yagyu from the 23rd volume of Lone Wolf & Cub.  The fight starts as soon as the leaf hits the ground, leaving only the remains of cloths fluttering on sheathed swords.
Fertilization has an intentional double entendre to it.  The Snake also has what's coined as Orphan Annie eyes, due to my difficulty in drawing pupils.  (I can't stand it when my creations are staring at me)
Bouncing Square has the pieces' edges worn down for the finale.
Backstage was our class' attempt at making a character walk.  To get around my handicap of not drawing eyes, I had the guy's trademark cap obscuring the upper half of his face.
Just Wild Beat Communication for its abstract expressionism took the title inspiration from the title of Gundam Wing's opening.  I tried to reference my Anime interests as subtly as possible in the hope that I would be called out on them.  I never was.
A line in the Sand was used with sand on a light screen, tapering off with a picture in the background.

For the last one, we were given the choice to animate anything we liked to the tune of a song.  Not being familiar with the popular tunes of the day, I went to the old standby of children's nursery rhymes.  I almost went with Bed Song from the same page, but chose the other since it was easier to animate.  Here's the lyrics to the claymation version of Alligator Pie's Rattlesnake Skipping Song.  You have to time it really slowly:

Mississauga rattlesnakes
Eat brown bread.
Mississauga rattlesnakes
Fall down dead.
If you catch a caterpillar
Feed him apple juice;
But if you catch a rattlesnake
Turn him loose!

Like a Cat on a June Bug

Dear Diary... I tried to wipe out a species today.

Of all the months, June in particular is the only one most relevant to Garfield, since its the anniversary of when he first started.  It must be nice to have a month all to yourself without having to go through the trouble of having to rename it to the month of Garf like some certain dictators who stole days from February so theirs would be longer.  February haters would be proud.

Since it's not an actual celebratory holiday that would infringe on other cultures, Garfield's birthday is the only annual event (apart from Christmas) that can be built up anticipation to its eventual arrival, even as the fat cat has eventually expressed exasperation and regret upon news of essentially becoming the oldest cat alive next to Felix and Heathcliff.  (Peg-Leg Pete doesn't count, even though he's Mickey's foil, since he looks more like a burly dog than a cat)  I created a comic in tribute to this ritualistic birthday, but while looking up comics with the keyword "birthday" in them, I found a spare set of strips which briefly mention Jon's birthday on July 28th.  To no one's surprise, this happens to be Jim Davis' birthday as well.  Two guesses who this cartoonist is meant to represent.

Then for the back cover of the 1989 calendar, Year of the Party has the following description:

For June, the actual month of Garfield's birthday, the Greatest Celebration of All -- featuring Garfield's favorite sport! (Can you guess what it is?)

You know what theme it's going to be, don't you?

The Eat-with-Your-Face Birthday Party

Invite guests with good senses of humor and serve no utensils with the meal!  Good foods to serve at a party of this nature are spaghetti and banana cream pudding.  Oh yes, hold the party in a room that can be hosed down afterward.

I'm pretty sure we all saw that coming.

Still Bummed from Abusing the Mouse

I haven't exactly been able to indulge in much writing lately, and that can be chalked up to several factors: complications around my various part-time jobs, playing online video games, and just being lazy in general.

But the main contributing factor was my mouse which tended to double-click at odd intervals all the time.

This may not sound like much, but for the past several months, this seemingly annoying feature kept playing against me.  Every time I would click it once, it would sometimes immediately double-click, causing unwanted files to be opened or going back two pages at once.  Furthermore, going to the options menu and changing the double-clicking speed did nothing to assauge this glitch.

Until you've had your reliable navigation device act against your orders, you can't understand the world of frustration I'm coming from.  Choosing an Internet browser on the taskbar causes two windows to open.  Renaming a file makes it open by accident.  Moreover, moving multiple files causes ALL of them to open at once.  Trying to move a sentence around becomes an editing nightmare where you have no idea whether your words are going to betray you or not.  Compounding to the madness was that the mouse would sometimes UNCLICK while I was dragging, leaving multiple instances where I would find myself moving a different object from my intended one.  Cropping images would result in either zooming in the picture or editing a smaller piece than I intended.  That lack of certainty made me constantly wary.

And every time these unintended actions took place, I would get invariably mad and actively bite the little tool, convinced that if I pressed down on it hard enough, it would work properly.  This school of thought comes from the same place as kicking machines in order to make them work properly.  Of all the bad influences comics are considered a menace for, this one squarely falls in their realm.

After some online research, I found out that there was probably some dust that was interfering with the controls, which would explain why it was so wonky all the time.  I attempted to clean the sides out with some scrap paper and an air blower I normally used to pump my hearing aids of moisture.  For awhile, it seemed to work, but then things would go back to double clicking again, and I'd be back to my old standby of doing a robotic feral cat impression.  Eventually, I got so frustrated that I actually popped up the underlying clicker cover.  I was sure that having uncorked the surface of the problem area and cleaning out the underlying area I'd been unable to reach would solve the annoying double-clicking.  It didn't.


Experiments made with an alternate mouse confirmed that it wasn't a technical issue, since it worked perfectly fine whenever I clicked once.  I could've simply switched back to the old model, but I'd grown used to the laser guided mouse, compared to the old ball mouse model, and needed the fast movement and ease of progress.  I'm always afraid of trying out new things because I worry that I'll enjoy the new thing TOO MUCH and it'll take over my life, and I won't be able to return to the old ways.  I resisted using the internet and email for years because I'd heard horror stories about people suffering from social addiction.  After fighting an uphill struggle involving having to complete my college dossier, I joined the club of online addicts along with millions of other sufferers.  (Well, it wasn't so much of a struggle, as bowing to the inevitable)  I'm amazed at people who purchase the latest technological marvels in their Beta form even before they've gotten all the kinks out, and are willing to plop down hundreds of dollars on the latest device that for all intents and purposes, may not even work that well, and become obsolete within the span of a month.

This is another common feature of new technologies introduced in comics - outright resistance to the unintended disaster the device causes,
until it proves its worth during an emergency.  So yeah, you can blame comics for that too.

I'm very finicky when it comes to tactile stimulation.  I've worn jackets with their zippers missing because they have non-detachable hoods on the lining.  My shoes' arch support area have to be FLAT - no elevated cushions allowed.  Not an easy feat when everybody wants "pump" platforms in theirs. Trying to find new clothes that suit my requirements is always an uphill struggle, because changing fashions demands that I comply with the majority, when I'm more comfortable with what I'm used to, even if I'm a lone voice in the wilderness no longer being adhered to.  I've kept my old toothpaste cap for years, because the later models feel uncomfortable when I twist them off.  I can only drink Apple Juice from a plastic container, because I can taste the "rust" from a metal can.  (Strangely enough, I have no problem eating pineapple tidbits from the can, because I find the acidic factor works in its favor)  I can't even keep my supply of Apple Juice in a fridge that's different from another manufacturer because it tastes "off", even though the temperature is the same in both models.

This Princess & the Pea syndrome keeps holding me back because there are certain sensations that makes it impossible for me to function without constant distractions.  For instance, I can't talk to somebody if they're facing an open window, because the bright light makes it impossible to read their lips.  That's a biggie, but there are other minor details that I find annoying that keep me off my game and prevent me from operating at full capacity.  The mouse issue is one of them.

I heard that mouses (mice?) were relatively cheap at $10 each, so I was shocked to find out that the average computer mouse would sell for about $30+ nowadays.  And these are high-tech mice (mouses?) mainly used for playing online role-playing games, with multiple added buttons on the side.  But I didn't want any of that - I wanted a simple functional mouse that had a reliable scrolling wheel.

Sadly, the model that I coveted didn't seem to be in stock anywhere I looked.  I'd always been surrounded with similar old models in my household, so it never occurred to me that there might be updated models that operated differently from what I was used to.  I found a few mouses that looked fine upon first sight, but they didn't meet my requirements because they felt different scrolling down than when scrolling up.  I want my mouse wheel clicking to be CONSISTENT.  I found another mouse that was laser-guided, and scrolled comfortably, but it was too small for my hand.  Later, I found a mouse that seemingly matched all my qualifications: it was laser-guided, it fit comfortably in my hand, and it made a satisfying clicking sound when I scrolled.  But the ridges on the wheel annoyed me.

Being unable to find a working mouse to my liking, I asked a computer friend of mine if he happened to have any old models lying around.  He did, but they were all the kinds used for playing online games.  However, he helped me out by telling me that I could open up my mouse, which I never knew I could do because the screws were hidden by the sticky pads underneath.  Once I opened up the thing, I was amazed at the amount of hair and dust that'd accumulated inside.  You know how a corner of your keyboard tends to get dirty without your knowing?  Take a small piece of paper and drag it through the F-number boxes, and you'll get a fair idea of how much crap was in there.  No wonder the thing wasn't working properly!

However, there was a slight complication.  Upon opening up the mouse, some pieces fell out, and I hadn't taken the time to take notes on which part went where.  However, because I'm notoriously stubborn when it comes to accepting outside help, I resolved to solve the dilemma myself.  I won't bore you with the details of how I managed to put Humpty Dumpy together again, but when I was done, I found some pieces of plastic with no idea what they were for.  But the mouse seemed to work fine without them, so I didn't press it any further.  But then the double-clicking started happening again, necessitating opening up the patient again.  After various matching, I eventually determined that the plastic pieces were actually broken off support material that had broken off during my earnest abuse on the mouse.  In short, it's internal organs were a mess, and it was my fault.

I tried to do some transplant surgery with other spare mouses I had lying around, but found out their plastic skeleton designs were significantly different from mine.  Upon further exploratory surgery with different models, I found that later mouse designs had the scroll wheel attached to the cover, which were different from my preferred model with the wheel at the bottom.  I could've taken the easy route and removed the offending plastic obstacles, but my lack of confidence and experience in handling plastic surgery prevented me from doing so.  Besides, I had no way of knowing if removing the offending part would work, and the cover would be ruined if I tried to put it back in the original mouse.  Of the four spare mouses I had, I only managed to switch between two fairly similar models.  That goes to show how rival companies stick close to their competitors.

Finally, in a dilapidated place next to an abandoned library, I found a computer store that sold the kind of mouse with the following qualifications I wanted.  So far, there's just one small glitch - I don't like how the stickers underneath feel when I move it about.  There's just no pleasing some people.

On the left is my preferred model.  On the right is the latest model.
Note where the scroll wheel is attached.

At times like these, I'm reminded of a Wayne & Shuster solo skit where a man was talking about his failed dates:

"I went out with a woman.  She liked me, but her parents didn't like me.  I went out with another woman.  Her parents liked me, but she didn't like me.  I went out with a third woman.  She liked me, and her parents liked me.  

"But her husband hated me."

It's such a relief to be able to move things around and not worry about when the computer's going to turn against me.  I'm hoping the scratchy underside will be resolved in the next few days.  As for the name of this post, it comes from the title of a Dilbert collection when it was still about amusing things other than office humour:

Adam's Nemesis

For most of the early years, househusband Adam had to deal with teasing barbs from his chauvinistic neighbor, Walter, who demeaned his masculinity by daring to stay at home and do "woman's work".  (I might do another post about the man sometime in the future)  But for me, his rival will always be associated with the occasional appearances of his most loathed chore: his washing machine.

It's long been an urban legend that washing machines eat socks resulting in mismatching pairs, and in Adam, this myth was taken to absurd limits.  Most likely, this was the result of Adam dealing with a tedious project on a weekly basis, and letting his imagination would run wild.  The resulting conflict between man and machine led to instances where he was the only witness to the washing machine's misdemeanors, and oftentimes comes off looking crazy to anybody he tries to explains the robotic crimes to.  It's basically a mechanical version of Garfield strips with the fat cat's internal dialogue removed.


Given how much Adam loathes doing household chores, it's not much of a surprise that he would have nightmares involving the machine.  Not bad for an opponent that never even talks back.

Where was it hiding all that???

Oftentimes, Adam has to resort to outright threats in order to get the machine working properly, much like in the same way that Zaphod Beeblebrox threatened the Heart of Gold with the binary equivalent of "Blood... blood... blood..."  In these cases, taking the HAL lobotomy route is the only language these devices understand.  That still doesn't stop them from malfunctioning though.  Consider it their form of payback from kicking their undersides all the time.

While this could be considered a simple mistake, there's unintentional undertones hinted at from the washing machine's malicious grin in the first panel.  If you check out the throwaway panel in the first strip, you'll see that Adam's socks have been somehow snatched off without his knowledge.  And this is a machine that's known for holding socks in reserve until good and ready.  So - a case of mistaken wardrobe malfunction or a malicious appliance that intentionally switched socks without the owner being the wiser?  You be the judge.

Forgotten Characters: The King's Mom

Here's another mini-feature that I figured I'd like to focus on - characters in comic strips that for one reason or another, have been neglected or forgotten to the ravages of time.  Since today is Mother's Day, it seems fitting to start off with the King of Id's mother.

The King's relationship with his family members is shaky at best, what with him either locking up or exiling all his relatives to avoid being overthrown.  Only a handful of them are ever seen more than once, or referenced, and then forgotten later.  Only the King's mother, forced into a life of servitude has managed to remain a reoccurring character.  Though she mostly appears during the middle of May.  There must be some significance to that date or something.

Beware of Streets selling gifts.

For the uninitiated, Joe E. Brown is a large-mouthed comedian in the 30's and 40's who had a broad smile, and could be considered a contender for fitting three billiard balls in his mouth.  (When you're referencing obscure actors from the Depression era, that's a bad sign of being behind the times)  Her earliest appearance I can find has her as an offscreen presence that wouldn't be out of place to the other family members being locked in a tower.

As such, she's the only person who can talk back to the king without fearing the repercussions.  (Though she's still expected to wash the windows and change the sheets)

To an Early Graves

Back when I described my epic comic find, I scanned a bunch of Graves Inc. strips, but decided against showing all of them at once, feeling that the post was going on long enough already, and wanted to skip to the end.

The other reason I chose not to show these was because I felt that these strips weren't as strong or funny as my other examples.

There are some creators who are reluctant to take a look at their earlier work, because they don't want to be influenced by what they've done, having "grown up", and letting their newfound experience inspire their latest work.  And then there's creators whose early work is clearly an embarrassment to them.  In the case of some Graves Inc. comics, the latter option certainly qualifies.

The comic is lavishly drawn, but in the end, it still designs to show a simple joke.  That's a lot of effort to create a throwaway punchline.  Only artists who really enjoy their craft can afford to focus on this much effort without skimping on the details or relying on helpful shortcuts.  In addition to being a completely inverted comic compared to the saccharine Rose is Rose, Graves Inc. is a dour smog-filled place where any joy is likely to be short-lived.  The last comic below is a rendition of the famous Casey at the Bat poem.  No guesses for how this pessimistic workplace scenario ends up.

...huh.  I guess the 162nd Ferengi Rule of Acquisition still applies: "Even in the Worst of times, someone makes a profit".  One thing that most people who create dystopian civilizations forget - it's impossible for everything to be awful all the time.  There has to be the occasional twinge of victory once in awhile.  That way, the sting of defeat can feel just as overwhelming.  Otherwise, it just becomes a hollow pursuit.  If you never achieve anything of worth once in awhile, then you'll never want to accomplish that high once again.  Having that goal exceed your grasp when you've tasted a win once is more despairing than never reaching it in the first place.

For and Against Cartoon Violence

On Sunday's Baby Blues, the father lamented how today's educational cartoons had been
sanitized to the point of pablum.


Interesting thing is, a generation ago, Adam was arguing against how violent cartoons were getting.  Keep in mind that this was long before Anime started becoming popular and before DragonBall Z entered the fray.


Nowadays, the violence in a typical He-Man cartoon would be considered simply laughable, and not in a good way.  At least, that's what I've heard, since I've never seen a single merchandised cartoon that was captioned, which is neglecting a sizable portion of their intended audience.  Even now with the DVD, they haven't bothered to release those licensable characters with subtitles.  This is also lamentable for the Rocky & Bullwinkle cartoons, which are remarkable for their humour-laden scripts, and the only reason I even know about their genius is due to a VHS tape collection that WAS close-captioned.  Sadly, the quality was uneven in the copies I borrowed from the Video Stores, and I wouldn't be able to tell whether a tape would have every second sentence blonked out, reducing my enjoyment factor by 80%.  Not to mention I was too lazy and cheap to go back to the store and complain and get a discount or refund.  (Rant over)

In both instances, both big-nosed fathers preferred the current cartoons to the classic Warner Bros. shorts of yesteryear.  Even across a generation gap, some tastes don't change.

Maybe in your Favor

This is their version of "The Hunger Games"

It's the start of the month of May, and you all know what that means - the new year's already 1/3 through.  It also means that it's time for another round of smattering Garfield material!  Joy.

Upon first viewing, this Garfield comic wouldn't seem that out of place from any other regular Sunday strip, save for that Garfield entices Jon to join his antics, which was something he occasionally succeeded in doing in past comics.  However, upon closer inspection, this is actually lifted off from an old For Better or for Worse Sunday comic

Next up is what's possibly the cheapest party second only to the 10-Minute Office Break Party.  At least there, you have the chance of having office supplements to snack on.  To me, the only reason to go to a party is for the food.  The guests are incendiary, and are just obstacles in your path to the buffet line.  Otherwise, why would you bother coming?  Surely it's not for the social status, right?  Right??

Mime Party

Have your guests come as mimes and pretend to have a party.  While your friends are pretending to have a good time think of all the money you are saving on drinks and food!

As an aside, I've never quite grasped the loathing that's portrayed towards mimes, having grown up with the pantomime of The Pink Panther and Mr. Bean.  But then, those are exceptional examples who've excelled in their roles.  Perhaps it comes from the lack of talent of street performers using minimalism to an extreme degree.

Dear Diary... Today, I composed myself.