Green, Green Grasses of Home
So this past week I have been going mad applying to jobs at the big museums here: the Modern Museum of Art, the Asian Art Museum, and the DeYoung. The last position I applied for was Education Assistant, which requires that I work with children, teachers, docents and "storytellers" among other things. It is kind of like the perfect job for me. Finally, something that I have a year's experience doing. And then while I was dancing around my apartment I thought of a future life getting dressed up to go to my museum job, observing school groups coming and going throughout the day, writing up educational programs about art and architecture, coming home after a hard day's work and cooking some food, I realize that this is something I could see myself doing for a long time and might even set aside the prospect of grad school for a while. I guess I should worry about getting an interview first.
The fog here comes and goes, but it is here more often than not. So today when I saw blue skies out my window I seized the opportunity and went for a very long walk up Cole street. The old trees planted on the sidewalk give the neighborhood a feeling of agedness. I am so used to these new, quickly constructed neighborhoods where every third house is the same design and all the trees are too young to hold themselves up. Now the fog has returned and will probably stay for the rest of the night.
Last night Dan, Weston and I went out to the Mission and had a night of good fortune where we continued to get hooked up and meet people who would bring us to VIP events and rooms. Like when Wayne and Garth are walking around showing their passes to everyone. It was pretty fun. We talked to this one band from Phoneix--they were kind of a 60s garage rock/pop sound with that mod look--at the merch table. We three were lined up before the singer and the guitarist, and the singer looked at me and she asked, "Are you guys in a band?" with furrowed band as though we must be, by our appearance. I responded, "No, we're just friends," as though that were even better.
In the morning I had to get up early to move my car for street cleaning. It was about 7 in the morning and I was still a little drunk from the night before. This black guy approached me and asked where the Panhandle park was. I pointed him in a general direction and he said to me, "Has anybody told you how cute you are this morning?" "No," I said, laughing. "You are, they just weren't saying it."
When I got back from my long walk in the afternoon I noticed a truck parked across the street from my apartment. It was marked up "Crime Scene Cleaners, Inc." And below had "Homocides, Suicides, Accidental Death." The frame of the license plate read, "My job starts when ur life ends."
The past two paragraphs must have been jokes, but I'm still not sure.