my baby takes the morning train
i was surprisingly alert for a monday. on the subway this morning, i remember feeling this huge need to get an octopus and a shark tattooed on my left arm, because i was afraid of people dying, and i figured i should just get things to commemorate them while i'm alive, you know? i cannot remember what the hell triggered this train of thought, though.
anyway, i am actually pretty surprised at myself at how much i enjoy the job. i can't really explain why, and i can't describe the people yet without going into disjointed stories or rambling, mostly inaccurate sketches. it's something you have to be a part of to see, i guess. i like being good at what i do, and for the most part, i've done that, as simple as my tasks are: i'm good at getting coffee orders and smiling and saying thank you, i'm good at screwing things into tv sets and snaking cables through walls and taping bundles of cords together.
the electrician i mainly work with told me i was mechanically inclined - good with my hands. i shrugged it off and said, "must be the electrician genes!" but dang, hearing that gives me a twisty sort of pride, like my dad was the high school star quarterback and i just caught a football for the first time. so many years of my life i refused to understand my father, refused to believe he was anything more than irrational and alcoholic and blunder-ridden. i knew this wasn't true already, but you know.
in other news, i took a quick bike ride on the cycle my dad rescued from the trash a few years ago. the weakerthans left and leaving cd was on and the sun hung in the sky just so, and i was reminded again the good parts about home, and other things.
anyway, i am actually pretty surprised at myself at how much i enjoy the job. i can't really explain why, and i can't describe the people yet without going into disjointed stories or rambling, mostly inaccurate sketches. it's something you have to be a part of to see, i guess. i like being good at what i do, and for the most part, i've done that, as simple as my tasks are: i'm good at getting coffee orders and smiling and saying thank you, i'm good at screwing things into tv sets and snaking cables through walls and taping bundles of cords together.
the electrician i mainly work with told me i was mechanically inclined - good with my hands. i shrugged it off and said, "must be the electrician genes!" but dang, hearing that gives me a twisty sort of pride, like my dad was the high school star quarterback and i just caught a football for the first time. so many years of my life i refused to understand my father, refused to believe he was anything more than irrational and alcoholic and blunder-ridden. i knew this wasn't true already, but you know.
in other news, i took a quick bike ride on the cycle my dad rescued from the trash a few years ago. the weakerthans left and leaving cd was on and the sun hung in the sky just so, and i was reminded again the good parts about home, and other things.