the rain falls against the leaf of the rose.

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16 april 1997

9:41 p.m.

Dear diary, Things at work are simply weird. The new high muckymuck elect has wasted no time since his promotion. From what I've seen so far, I'm actually beginning to think he'll run a decent ship. And in all honestly, his eagerness to take command wouldn't be so disconcerting... were it not for the fact that his appointment isn't official until next month. Others aren't taking the switchover so well, and a lot of veterans are knocking on doors on other floors. Meanwhile, he's tagging those who'll stay, and is also courting others -- mostly from the other psych wards -- to transfer in. The problem is, the current "acting" supervisor -- and again the person I think should've gotten the job -- is technically still doing the job. So now, the handling of everything from supply orders to schedule changes is uncomfortably fuzzy. Both incoming and outgoing supes are picking up and reading mail for the office, both are doing the rounds checking up on PAs, and both are arguing with the RNs about the same things. There hasn't been a direct confrontation, but everyone's getting skittish over the possibility. From what I can tell, I'm still going to be one of the favored players on the new team. This despite my having openly expressed my feelings on the way things went. It's encouraging insofar as it's clearly the quality of my work alone that's keeping me off the constantly growing shit list. Greg's concert wasn't half bad. While I finally managed to meet up with him afterward this time, though, the first thing he said was, "So where's my lei?" There was a whole gang of folks there to see him, including his boyfriend and, notably, his parents. Notably because not only had they not attended before, but because they still don't know Greg's boyfriend is... well, Greg's boyfriend. The UH Chamber Orchestra did a fine rendition of Schubert's "Symphony Number Five," although frankly in that cathedral I'd expect a broken bagpipe to sound good. They also played a contemporary orchestral piece, "Endymion's Sleep," that was commissioned for the Nashville orchestra. I was half expecting something of a "Porgy and Bess" retread, but actually, it was good. Dark and discordant, but good. I'd always dismissed "modern classical music" as hopeless, because what little I've heard was horrid -- breaking musical conventions for the sake of breaking them. But maybe I'm just listening to the wrong segments on NPR. The Chamber Singers and Chorus then filed in, and there was the ever stern and brooding Greg trying very very hard not to look handsome in his adorable bow tie. More Schubert, this time his "Mass in G." I hadn't heard it before, honestly, but it was rendered skillfully enough that -- for the first three movements -- I thought I did. Being a non-Catholic, I was probably more intrigued by the text than most people there. As far as I could tell, the Mass shared much the same vocabulary, if not the same meaning, as the traditional Requiem. I know in Requiem composition -- from Verdi (my favorite) to Andrew Lloyd Webber (my first) -- the words are always the same. I wonder if the same goes for a Mass? The Chamber Orchestra took the rest of the evening's program. With Greg off the stage, I didn't feel as compelled to pay attention. Instead, I perused the list of names in the program. This time, there were only a few familiar ones. What did strike me, though, is how so... common many of the names in my generation are. There were dozens of Seans and Jasons and Brandons and, yes, Dereks. And there were gobs of Jennys and every variation of Christy -- Kristy, Cristi, Crystie (well, not really -- or at least not yet). There were a few standouts -- Andra, Janna, Lotus -- but it was pretty obvious that you were looking at a bunch of people born in the mid-70s. Actually, the ridiculous "i" and "y" thing is probably more due to being born in Hawai`i rather than being a twentysomething. It hit California, from what I can tell, a few years later, but there's no doubt in my mind we rockbugs caught the "i" fever first. And ever since 9th grade, every time I see one dotted with a little heart, I get homicidal. I thank the gods twice daily I didn't end up a Vicki -- apparently my mom's second choice. (My real fear is for the children being born in the mid-90s... and that thirty years from now, we might be re-electing a President Alanis.) After the concert, I followed Greg and his friends to Zippy's. There he could finally hold his honey's hand, and he again bragged about his summer job in Austin. Meanwhile, his friends -- not surprisingly also coworkers of his -- were plotting to leave the campus paper at the same time to start their own rag. I'll say this much... they couldn't possibly do much worse. A couple of interesting developments on the web front... An alternative to Open Pages -- long overdue as far as I'm concerned -- has emerged. Member Lucy Huntzinger has established Archipelago, intended to be a smaller and more focused community of online diarists. Unfortunately, Lucy has hit one of the hardest parts of webring management head on... rejecting sites. It's especially difficult, I'm sure, since she has more subjective criteria for webring membership. Archipelago is still in its infancy, though. I think some recent critics (like Theresa and Elly) have made some good points, and hopefully things will evolve and settle. The fact of the matter is, I want diarists to utilize as many options for "networking" as possible, whether it's a webring, a "my favorites" page or a mailing list. The more interconnected strands there are, the more we can collectively draw from our unique (and to some bizarre) form of expression and reflection. On a lighter note, Iz (a.k.a. Israel Kamakawiwo`ole, deservingly esteemed Hawaiian musician) signed my guestbook yesterday. Silly or not, I was quite flattered. Of course, I love everyone who signs in... (Okay, enough self-referential stuff. It just feels funny.)