Dear (not a ship but still a) log,
See, nothing personal little log, I have issues with calling this a personal log. Did you see what I did there loggy? Huh? Huh? I mean it is not as if to say I am sitting here telling you the story of my great grandmother and her causation of great extinction of the Pledrolix Duck of Hydrapha IV. Honestly, it was an accident (the way she tells it at least). Or confessing my unrequited love for Lt. Boriah – he is dreamy. And sweet and kind and he’s sent me a number of packet messages. Sweet of him – even if it only serves to show what I am missing out on had a gotten a patrol duty!! Ahem. Where was I?
Anyway, I have my personal log and my personal messages which I bank in the computer awaiting approval and package signal. And as has been evident to date with these log entries it certainly isn’t intended as any kind of official or duty log. Heaven’s forbid!
I sure ain’t going to call it the approved by the psychologist to keep you sane log. Quite frankly, I’m not sure it does or will. I mean, firstly, I’m talking to myself – no offense dear computer unit. As lovely looking as you are let’s not pretend there’s any kind of personal deep and meaningful relationship between us.
But the shrinks say this method of communication helps with the isolation and social limitations so who are we to argue with the peeps who would call you crazy!? Doesn’t seem worth picking a fight over. I suppose there’s something therapeutic about it. I can hardly keep rabbiting on in my messages home. The family are close enough to disowning me without giving them the ammunition of being a great big whinge. And HONESTLY if you saw my personal messages you’d see I’m not complaining all the time. Maybe that’s purpose of this… a free to rant and rave space.
Obviously, being cooped up on a small relay station with only two others carrying out mundane tasks and idiotic systems checks is hardly the most stimulating work environment. Not that I am complaining. You take the goose with the gander. I think that’s the expression. Hmmm. Gramma use to say it. Tch. Mind given she helped kill off a species on another world I think we’ll take her sage advice pertaining to anything sporting feathers with a pinch of salt.
Ok. Let’s start again.
Today dear ‘keep my head straight’ log I chased down another twenty ghost sensors. They were a particular delight to track, source and eliminate. Despite numerous attempts at recalibration the sensor anomalies kept cropping up. Almost to the point I was convinced you know that like there really was a cloaked vessel of some kind sneaking about! Anyway, the boring technical details are all within my official duty log. The point is however (well other than the fact that actually being in the line of work I’m in those pesky boring technical details are actually not boring to me) (that is but for the fact they keep happening) (and I’m going to stop digressing and get on with whatever point I was trying to make) (what was that again?) – Point is – I’M breaking my neck (not literally mind – apart from Guvs almost causing me to topple over the railing in main engineering – but that’s a different rant) I’m breaking my neck to fix the problem yet MR PRECIOUS Deron, Mr I am oh so logical, is the whole time tossing my work out the airlock by countering my calibrations by computing his own. Grrr.
See this is the kind of thing I can’t mention in my official log. It would hardly seem professional to undermine his experience because of course my work cancelled out HIS efforts and I being the newbie ought to have deferred to his wisdom and sought his approval for any work I thought to carry out. Who knew the chain of command could be so important on a relay station with three people.
I swear, he must have swallowed a Vulcan for breakfast! Nuh, nuh, nuh, nuh. That’s all he ever does. Complain and complain and list issues to be fixed and procedures to be followed. Like, I kinda thought that maybe working in isolation in a small team environment would afford a relaxed and fun work place. But no, he obviously missed that memorandum! Gees. Honestly, it’s as well that I am so level headed and calm. I’d blow a gasket.
:puffs out heavily:
Actually, that did feel good to get off my chest.
In fairness, Deron’s approach was more methodical and practical and I gleaned a few interesting sub routine processing tricks that will be very useful. It’s just the way he, you know, says the thing. At least Guvs is a whole lot more amenable and friendly and is happy to banter. Although, Guvs is so upbeat and positive I daren’t even try to like complain. She only thinks it means I’ve got a secret thing for Deron. Yeah, a boot up his ass! Only I won’t be keeping it so secret.
Look, I gotta go. We decided to play a chess tournament.
Oh my gawd.
That is like actually the highlight of my day. I’ve actually been looking forward to this. Urgh. I suppose, only forty seven more days until my duty rotation. But who is counting?
And sixteen hours forty-five minutes.
What? Oh, yeah. I’m coming, just finishing this up. Gotta go loggy. Catch you tomorrow.