New Perspectives
Who sets an alarm for 11 p.m.? My roomie Mark, of course. And he wasn't even here when it went off, so it's not that he was napping or something - though I don't know anyone who takes naps that late unless they're pulling for an all-nighter to finish some project or cram session. Anyway, this is probably the sixth time I've noticed a late-night alarm sounding. I wonder what gives.
Other roomie Heather picked up from the library today a beginner's learning French kit. She's moving to France in late August. I asked her to play the cassettes on the speakers so I can learn along with her... or, you know, to make of her the tape. Already, we're forming a must-see list of movies for our accent-imitation weekend festival of hopefully ignoring unnecessary subtitles. riiiiight. So far the list is up to two: "Ponette" and "Amelie." Hmm, to balance it out let's hope there's a "Jacques" and an "Antoine."
I dropped off an application for a housekeeping position at a Super 8 today. Although the housekeeping staff - one of whom will be the one to interview me - had already left, the staff there I did talk to all seemed really nice. I actually believed the man when he told me he'd have one of the housekeepers call me tomorrow. How sad is it that I'd feel lucky just to get a phone call back from someplace, even if it's to say the position's been filled? I really hope to get this job. Even though it is housekeeping, it beats anything dealing with fast food, which seems to be the only abundant work around here now. Frankly, I don't want a job that requires me to deal with people a lot. That must sound weird considering I spent all of last semester doing nothing but working with writers and interviewees. But I consider that to be different because it's more working with people than for them. Besides, I think it'd be tons more interesting to invent lives for people based on what's in their rooms or the condition of how the room is left when I clean it than taking an order for the hundredth time for a coke and fries. It's all about the potential "scope for the imagination," a la Anne of Green Gables. And it couldn't hurt for blog fodder either, a la Ali Davis's True Porn Clerk Stories, a hilarious online journal I've been reading for the past three days. I don't wish to get that sort of material from whatever job I end up doing, but I'm up for any other types of oddities and quirkiness.
Update on the late alarm: After 20 minutes of it ringing, I'd had enough. Because I figured that surely Mark wasn't in the room, I had no qualms about going in and shutting it off. I did go in, and guess who was there flopped in bed? Mark. As soon as I opened the door, he sat up and groggily said, "Good Morning." That's the only time-related greeting he knows - 2 p.m., 8 p.m., 3 a.m., it's all "morning" to him. Stupidly I stutter sorry and that I hadn't realized he was in while I backtrack and close the door. When I enter mine and Heather's room, she's in giggles. This was the first time I took alarm-shutting-off duty. The other times, Heather did it - after all, she was the established apartment resident, but after three weeks here, I am no longer on guest/newbie status, in my mind anyway. Well, those other times, Heather's times, Mark hadn't been in his room. So she found this particularly amusing. "We do it because we care," she said. Quickly followed by, "Was he naked?" I'm betting he was, but he always keeps his air-conditioner on, so his room is pretty chilly and he had a blanket or two heaped on himself, though his lower legs and upper chest weren't covered. Which is yet another puzzling thing - how can anyone sleep with chilly feet and arms?
Whatever. At least the alarm got turned off.
Other roomie Heather picked up from the library today a beginner's learning French kit. She's moving to France in late August. I asked her to play the cassettes on the speakers so I can learn along with her... or, you know, to make of her the tape. Already, we're forming a must-see list of movies for our accent-imitation weekend festival of hopefully ignoring unnecessary subtitles. riiiiight. So far the list is up to two: "Ponette" and "Amelie." Hmm, to balance it out let's hope there's a "Jacques" and an "Antoine."
I dropped off an application for a housekeeping position at a Super 8 today. Although the housekeeping staff - one of whom will be the one to interview me - had already left, the staff there I did talk to all seemed really nice. I actually believed the man when he told me he'd have one of the housekeepers call me tomorrow. How sad is it that I'd feel lucky just to get a phone call back from someplace, even if it's to say the position's been filled? I really hope to get this job. Even though it is housekeeping, it beats anything dealing with fast food, which seems to be the only abundant work around here now. Frankly, I don't want a job that requires me to deal with people a lot. That must sound weird considering I spent all of last semester doing nothing but working with writers and interviewees. But I consider that to be different because it's more working with people than for them. Besides, I think it'd be tons more interesting to invent lives for people based on what's in their rooms or the condition of how the room is left when I clean it than taking an order for the hundredth time for a coke and fries. It's all about the potential "scope for the imagination," a la Anne of Green Gables. And it couldn't hurt for blog fodder either, a la Ali Davis's True Porn Clerk Stories, a hilarious online journal I've been reading for the past three days. I don't wish to get that sort of material from whatever job I end up doing, but I'm up for any other types of oddities and quirkiness.
Update on the late alarm: After 20 minutes of it ringing, I'd had enough. Because I figured that surely Mark wasn't in the room, I had no qualms about going in and shutting it off. I did go in, and guess who was there flopped in bed? Mark. As soon as I opened the door, he sat up and groggily said, "Good Morning." That's the only time-related greeting he knows - 2 p.m., 8 p.m., 3 a.m., it's all "morning" to him. Stupidly I stutter sorry and that I hadn't realized he was in while I backtrack and close the door. When I enter mine and Heather's room, she's in giggles. This was the first time I took alarm-shutting-off duty. The other times, Heather did it - after all, she was the established apartment resident, but after three weeks here, I am no longer on guest/newbie status, in my mind anyway. Well, those other times, Heather's times, Mark hadn't been in his room. So she found this particularly amusing. "We do it because we care," she said. Quickly followed by, "Was he naked?" I'm betting he was, but he always keeps his air-conditioner on, so his room is pretty chilly and he had a blanket or two heaped on himself, though his lower legs and upper chest weren't covered. Which is yet another puzzling thing - how can anyone sleep with chilly feet and arms?
Whatever. At least the alarm got turned off.