Chapter 14: I can promise you, you'll stay as beautiful

Every night I write you my sad little letter. I'm down... I'm not mad or upset or angry or frustrated or even all that bummed... just low energy, a heavy sigh breathed for the remainder of the week.

I was showering off after work today, mulling over yet another angry, frustrated blog entry, but the more I thought about it the less I wanted to complain. The things I had to complain about disappeared before my eyes and the things that were left just didn't seem all that important. It wasn't a bad day, I guess it's just the same feeling you get at in the early stage of a job, or anything. It was like this when I started at U of T, and Sheridan for that matter... where I wonder, man, is this it? And I ponder the next several months of work and wonder how I am to survive it.

I don't hate my job when I'm doing it, I don't hate it when I have to fix something I've screwed up, I don't hate it when I think back on the day. What I do hate is thinking about the next day, having to find my transit to a whole new job site, thinking about getting out of bed in the morning and going on another adventure. Day after day, on and on, May, June, July, August. Several times a day I wonder how I actually came to be employed when this is clearly not practical. But most of the time, it's prep, cutting and rolling, and I'm in the moment and it's good.

It was a good day. This morning, I got a lift to the job because it was way out in Mississauga, which it shouldn't have been but what'cha gonna do. So co-worker Catherine was good enough to swing by my place around 7:30. We got there right on time. I actually brought my iPod speakers (hesitant, though, because they're also my alarm and should remain in my room...) and we spent the bulk of the day listening to my iPod, which made me happy (and I've often said that's all I really care about.) As one might expect, it was a lot of Aerosmith, some Beatles and Clash and White Stripes and lots of other random stuff.

We were doing a ceiling and a living room. I don't prefer indoor work but it's been more of that since we started than exteriors. I've been learning to pay attention to the finer points, like the way things drip and how it ends up, and how to properly clean brushes and rollers. I did a terrible job cleaning last week and this week made sure to correct my mistakes. Look at me, seeming capable of mild personal growth! Be proud.

Kerissa had wanted to be done by one, my inability to stick to a schedule led to being done by 3 including all clean-up, which is still decent when you consider the idea is to stay until 5, and she admitted from the start she may have underestimated the size of the job. Catherine naturally gave me a lift home.

As of right now, I'm not sure where I am actually working tomorrow, which is annoying. I have a vague idea, it'll probably use the Bridge bus, but no concrete address. I did, however, check my marks for this semester. It was basically how I expected although I'd have like to do better in Film Analysis, I think my mark is fair given my performance... good but not stellar like I'd like it to have been. It was actually lower than my Philosophy Mark (B- versus a B) and I'd been telling people all semester I thought I was in danger of failing that. And then I started telling people I was actually studying hard, which is true, and amazingly, contributed directly to my half-decent performance in that class. In Narrative, I got an A-, largely because Stewart really seemed to dig my essays despite the notable weakness of my close-reading. Also, I rocked the exam. Poetry, I got an A, because I'm awesome, and Reiby is also awesome.

Yesterday was largely comprised of a birthday gathering for Brando. It was a pretty decent evening mostly spent as usual entertaining the kids, who were for the most part well-behaved. Some good talks, some good memories. After helping B. open his gifts, Cameron lecture for a several minutes on how girls have vaginas and boys have wieners. Don't think we won't bring that up when he's 15 years old. He's an odd kid, fun but a bit demanding, as an only child may be. Ali mostly goes along and tries her best.

Sunday night we had a good talk. I liked it, and I miss ya. Being stuck huffing paint fumes all day means I can't get away and see you, and I wish that weren't so. My main fear with the job, I suppose, is that it's going to absorb me to the point where I don't do anything else. The last time I saw you, you were sniffling. The time before that, I was doubled over behind a tree, sick to my stomach. Oh the memories. Hah.

My mom has been having problems with Tim lately. Against my usual protocol I took it on myself to get involved and offer my thoughts. She seemed pretty intent on calling it quits but I'm actually trying to get her to reconsider that. I'm not telling her "You should get back with him" but I did tell her not to react too extremely, and to make sure she does what's best for her. The reason I seem so involved is because to some degree, it does affect me. Tim could be a pain sometimes, giving lame anecdotes nobody needed to hear at length, always chiming in, walking around without a shirt etc. But for all the occasional bickering, I thought he and mom went okay together and he was a good enough guy that I didn't mind. I just shudder at the thought of meeting some new dude who turns out to be a jerk or a douche. She had done okay with Tim and the reason for the split was...... not irreconcilable, a matter of personal pride. Anyway, after the brief chat, she thanked me for giving my input. We don't talk to each other like that very often in our family. Occasions where we open up and share our feelings with one another are kinda momentous, since we're usually at an emotional distance.

When I was a kid, I remember being super-emotional about stuff, really sensitive, and then I grew out of it. It still shows sometimes but I used to be really easily upset. The funny thing about it is that by now, I don't even remember the actual reasons or occasions I threw fits, just that I did from time to time with pretty good intensity. I just liked any reason to pout. I guess some things never change, but now I just express it differently, and to a willing audience.

We'll see how things go tomorrow. And the day after, and on and on. Such is the working life.

Keep on rockin'
-Scott
King of Kung Fu