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| December 2003
November 18, 2003
It's strange not to be able to come home. I can't come home at the end of the day, because I'm already home. So when most people are happy to be coming home, I want to be going out. Except I don't have any money, so going out shouldn't be an option.
It's funny; I always thought that my ideal work situation would be to be able to paint or write all day, with as little interaction with others as possible. I enjoyed my job at the Franklin Mint because I didn't have to talk to anyone and could tap into a part of my brain that I normally didn't access. (I entered orders for 8 hours straight, which required more thought from my fingers than from my head, so my brain would call up memories I had long forgotten. It was cool.)
But being alone isn't ideal. People need to interact with people. If I suddenly became the only person on earth and everything (electricity, water supply, gasoline, etc.) were available, all of my time would be spent looking for someone else. The "only person on earth" question is something I used to think about occasionally as a kid, but I didn't think about things like how to preserve meat and the inevitability of no electricity. Even now, I don't really know how power plants work. If someone isn't monitoring it, how long would there still be power? There are just so many things to think about in that situation.
Anyway, I've only been in my new apartment for a week and already I'm itchy to be able to go to work in the morning. However, I'm in New York! It's exciting. Greenpoint is great. I have friends -- good friends -- to hang out with. I still have to forge my own path, but I'm optimistic and happy. And if I do have to work at home, it doesn't hurt to be in a cool apartment.
November 05, 2003
- We left at 1 p.m. to drive to the Harrisburg airport.
Stephen had found a cheap flight into the capital city over
Halloween weekend, and it was time for him to return to
Canadia. On the way there, my car broke down twice, sputtering
and giving up on itself as we listened to Todd Rundgren
mess around with instruments. We made it to the airport,
- They didn't want to let Stephen board the plane because
he didn't have his passport with him. (He'd forgotten the
passport but had remembered to bring an extra Game Cube
controller so that we could race each other in F-Zero. Typical?
Yes.) He had to reach his mom so that she could fax his
birth certificate to the airport. But he couldn't remember
her number. But then he did remember it just in time, and
she happened to be close to home.
- While he tried every permutation of his mom's cell number
he could think of, I sat and thought about just how my death
would play out on the Pennsylvania turnpike, secretly hoping
he wouldn't be able to board the plane. By the time we parted,
I was sure he and everyone else were never going to see
me again. He thought I was crying because I'd miss him;
in truth, I was mourning the loss of my soon-to-be-over
- The car broke down just as I pulled into the first gas
station I saw on the way back. After a long ride with the
towtruck man to fix a flat tire at another rest area, the
poor Focus ended up at a dealer in Harrisburg, and the poor
Ms. S. (that's me) ended up at the local Amtrak station.
- Meanwhile, my mom had been driving for over an hour, as
I'd requested that she rescue me. She'd accidentally started
going to New Jersey, and when she called me to ask if she
should really be going to New Jersey, and I said something
similar to, "Uh, no," she told me she
was going to cry. By the time I got to the lovely train
station, she was halfway to Harrisburg. I called her and
told her to turn around and pick me up at the station near
home in a couple hours.
- In a not-quite-related aside, my brother's bicycle seat
was stolen Monday, thus continuing the weird
bike/car bad luck parallel we have been enjoying lately.
- After the train ride (a journey longer than a flight from
Harrisburg to Toronto), I got into my mother's SUV, and
we both laughed. We went to pick up a pizza. It was 10 p.m.
At the pizza place, the teenage employee with a grody goatee
asked me if I had a younger sister. It was the first time
I have ever felt old.