i’m gonna tell the world…

So I don’t really know how this happened, but I have become very very busy.

Part of that is just the natural result of getting a position on a team that was already severely understaffed, so when you barely know what you’re doing, you get assigned a full workload and spend probably 15-20 hours of your week just figuring out what the heck is going on, the natural result is spending an extra 15-20 hours at work accomplishing said work. :-) Yay. (So that’s creepy that I just fell into the second person, isn’t it? I just read a book by Lorrie Moore – Self Help, a book of short stories that I didn’t really like, and the primary shiver down my spine was her constant use of the second person. I think it makes an author sound kind of pompous, like they’re assuming that you will identify so closely with their characters that they’re sure you won’t notice the constant use of the pronoun “you.”)

My computer at home is also on the fritz, and this time the nice long-suffering 2am technician told me to send the whole thing in to get it checked for real. (It’s about time…7 motherboards in 3 years seems excessive to me…) Which is fine, I just read more novels. *L* I won’t bore you with the list right now. I’ll wait until I have some highlights thought out. I have now lived in this city for 3, nearly four years, and I have had 3 different library cards, because each library wishes you to be exclusive with them, (I was about to make a strange correlation here between libraries and guys who date multiple girls, and then realized that I’m starting to sound more and more like an M.F.A., a terminal degree if ever I’ve heard of one, and not something I’m willing to become more like. Jane Austen wrote 3 wonderful and 3 pretty fine novels without a Masters in the Fine Arts and long snobbish classes on plot and character manipulation.)

I’m sure you’re wondering what I’m doing typing this during work hours, but I will just say this: I’m salaried, and if I’ve already been here for over 2 hours (yup, it’s not yet 8:30) and I will probably not get out of here till after 5, and the last time I took an hour (or really any time) for lunch was when I was still working for the retail slave-drivers, you can do the math.  Fifteen minutes for me to pretend to connect to the outside world is probably not going to kill anyone. (Other than this, or surreptitious glances at goodreads.com or mcsweeneys.net, jango.com is the only connection I have to reality, and since in the last hour it has played Nelly Furtado’s Maneater, Killer’s Mr. Brightside, David Bowie and Queen Under Pressure, Rush’s Closer to the Heart, and Regina Spektor’s Reading Time with a Pickle * it makes me kind of question what kind of reality I am being subjected to… Ponder that,  world.

 

*This song never fails to remind me of Cori:
Walking home from work
Stop at the supermarket, condiment aisle
A jar of pickles catches the eye
Make eye contact with a solitary pickle *gasp*
Bought the jar took it home……

There’s just so much to remind me of our times in good old Glide 119, when we ate pickles and Milano cookies for dinner and called late-night Cokes “sodas of the bad evening.”

Tomorrow back to work again
Run to the supermarket, running hopeful through the aisles
Haven’t been this happy in a long time
But not a single jar was smiling afterall
But pickle jars are just pickle jars
And pickles are just pickles
Ingredients … water, salt, cucumber, garlic and pickling spices

But love is the answer to a question
That I’ve forgotten
But I know I’ve been asked
And the answer has got to be love

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