#24: A cold, dark, salty Earth

Think about the image implied in the title there for a minute. That's how I think of winter right now.

I've had a blog on my mind all day, even though I've got nothing important to say.

Then again when do I ever have anything important to say? It's just that little space between Christmas and New Year's, when you haven't got anything important at all to do, you're just sitting around the house, enjoying your Christmas gifts, and not accomplishing anything of note.

Work yesterday was.... ehhh. I'll tell you, if I had to choose between working afternoons and working evenings, I'd give it some serious consideration because I got home and was pretty good for the rest of the day (although I slept like a dog.) But Ed was there, and he's my boss, and, well, all you who work know that bosses are pricks. There's pretty much just no way around that, especially when you consider the nature of my position. I've been wishing I'd put enough thought into it that I'd given away my shift tomorrow, because I don't want to work it. Not jsut that I don't want to work tomorrow, also I don't want to work with Arturo. I don't like working with others in general (because it really doesn't require more than one person to do my job, and I don't like other porters to see how lazy I am,) but I also don't particularly like Arturo. Well it wouldn't be inaccurate to say I don't like any of the other porters at all, but Arturo I wouldn't even like if we didn't work at the same place/do the same job/etcetera. I'd rather work with any of the other guys than Arturo.

And the next thing I know, Arturo's going to read this. Okay, well maybe he will, but I just hope he doesn't before tomorrow. That would probably maike for an awkward situation. Well before you know it, I'll be outta there and the whole flippin' staff can shove it, y'know? This week has drudged past. Not only do I go home and feel "gee I'm squandering my break, I'm tired, I have no free time, I'll be back at school far too soon" I go to work and feel "jeez this is taking forever it'll never end." Those are two completely contradictary statements!

So that's what's been on my mind. Soon, though, I'll be a free man. Then I'll be back at school and have that to deal with, and I'll never have to complain about it ever again.

There's something not right with my AccessSheridan account and I still haven't picked an elective, which is troubling me just a bit. I( can't get to that part of the site. That's just one more thing that I've gotta stress over... oy. I'm freakin' myself out over here. I tried to get an answer outta some random woman at the registrar, and the response was along the lines of "Please don't e-mail me as I am leaving this position... and yes, you can access that portion of the site."

Gee, lady, thanks for telling me.

I'm guessing that they're on vacation, which is fine, but I'm anxious and fearful that after New Year's it still won't work. Computers complicate matters in new, not-easily-surmountable ways.

I've been thinkin' a lot lately about the nature of this blog. It's kinda weird, y'know? It isn't a LiveJournal or a Mindsay or a Myspace, which are networks designed for interaction with friends, creating tight, insular groups of friends and keeping contact with them, and mostly for being teenagers who bitch about things (which I am, but Blake Petit, whose Think About It Central is on LJ, is not.) BlogSpot is kind of more about opinions, insights, news, reviews, and more legitimate-seeming blog stuff (the kind of stuff Mitrovica [erroneously] tried to convince us was the future of journalism.) Haasim's site is a perfect example of that. Me, I fall into my own place. I'm not eager to make friends or boast about those I have (although they are certainly welcome.) I don't care who floats in (well that's not entirely true,) and I have no pretense of commentary about news or pop culture beyond what comes up in natural writing.

What I decided this blog ultimately was is an extension of Mr. Guthrie's journal exercise. For those of you unfamiliar with the Guth, my Grade 12 Writer's Craft teacher, he insisted his students carry a journal and write 20-30 minutes of solid pen-to-paper writing each and ever yday and you know what, I've found it incredibly helpful not only for my professional purposes, but for my personal ones, too. And apparently it works. I mean, that's why I start so many posts with no real idea what I'm going to write in any given entry, and why I had no idea what the last 8 or so paragraphs would be about. I've just been sitting here for the better part of a half hour with no real aim other than to, as Guthrie'd always say, "pour myself out onto paper."

Having an HMV gift card is, to me, as much a curse as blessing. Let's be reasonable. There's nothing I particularly want, but plenty of things I'd like to have/get. I would've liked Dane Cook's recent CD, but it was all out. I would really like to get the Coral's latest, but there's not even a section for them. That's kinda disheartening. Then I bounced around and thought "gee, is there a movie I'd like? Ghostbusters 1&2 set is only $20... or you could get the White Stripes, or even Stars." I bounced around the store while they played Johnny Cash (and I do believe it was Cash, not the soundtrack of Walk the Line... because Reese's June is not as dead-on as Joaquin's Cash.) I bounded, angsting over what exactly to get. And I ran into Amy Boutenhaus... Bootenhouse.... Battenhose... how do you spell her last name, exactly?

Anyway, story: last night, after dinner, which had been prepared by mom and Wally *(although it was actually a 42nd street Prefab Roast... two to be exact... which are tasty but get stuck in your teeth like mad,) we went over to Blockbuster because Eric and I wanted to rent 40-Year-Old Virgin. And Mom and Wally did too. So we went, it was out, we looked longer under the false pretense of wanting to get something else. And I lingered along the new releases long enough to catch Amy, Kate Gurnham and an unnamed third party whom I'm not sure if I've ever met (likely not.) Which means it was weird when I ran into Amy again, this time with Janessa, in HMV. And it was jsut as I was resolving to leave, so I said hello, made the requisite crack about her stalking me (since in both cases I'd been there first, I think,) and left. And this means I've seen her, even in the slightest way, four days in a row, with a likely fifth tomorrow (if I can get a ride by some miracle.)

In case you were wondering, we got Bad News Bears, and then Wally pestered them into finding a copy of Virgin, somehow. Eric really liked it and I, of course, had already seen it (see August.)

Sometimes, like today, I seem to have a lot to talk about, even though I have nothing to say. It's kinda funny.

I've been back and forth all week trying to decide whether or not I hated myself. I concluded that I don't. I just hate work. So good for me.

I'm sure I'll go back on that, but right now I'm happy to focus all my rage on bowling balls and table-wiping. And Ed. And Tahir, too. Not Val so much, she's the good one, but I can't wait to never see Ed again. Or get a call about shift-switching, either.

And at least, for now, I'm making plenty o' cash.

For now.

5 more shifts. Maybe I'll switch off Thursday. Sounds like a good idea.

Keep on rockin'
The Scott