009: I didn't know I was special

I have been undergoing what can best be described as a crisis. There are times when I have gotten extremely despondent over issues over which I ultimately have no control and which, in the long run, have no serious impact on my longterm wellbeing. I get pissy about this and that. Girls. Entertainment. Buses. Important to my daily life but not serious issues. School. The future. Things that are problematic, but issues that, someday, will resolve themselves natural. "Sometimes," wrote Philip Roth in the Human Stain, "problems age themselves out of existence."

In light of this, my current crisis is considerably more substantial. More tangible. At my lowest, I referred to it as "my Haiti" which is of course grossly insensitive to the poor folks in Haiti who are currently dealing with the complete destruction of their entire world. When put in that light, it's hard to believe anything else is important to anybody, but this, this is my world, and on this little shadowy corner of the internet, that's what's important. Don't go out into the world and think SWP is important. Don't think too much about these words when you click off this browser, but while you're here, this is what's important, this is the earthquake.

I woke up Friday morning and, as I have every morning of my life, turned on my computer before going to the washroom. When I got out, I saw that Windows had not yet loaded, in fact the screen was reading the cryptic message that a boot disk needed to be inserted, which, with my limited knowledge of computers, even I knew was incorrect because after all, there was no need for a boot disk.

I didn't have time to ponder this concept, however irritating it clearly was. I had to get to class. In class, American Fiction, which I had missed on Wednesday for reasons that generally boil down to my questionable priorities, we discussed Obama's speech on race, first in small groups then as a class. Having not read the speech due to my having missed Wednesday, I was only able to discuss the matter in light of the book and in light of what I know about the world in general. I made a fairly decent remark about the judgment on Sonia Sotomayor's appointment to the Supreme Court a while back. I know my colleague Craig disagrees with me vehemently when I defend her, because hey, she dared address the issue of race, and that apparently makes her a racist. She didn't say she was out to get whitey, she said she had a different perspective, as a Latina, than a white male. That's just a fact. And that's how it's supposed to be in the supreme court: people with different viewpoints arguing and voting about whose is more popular. Why would anyone think that it was her job to look at things from the same perspective as all the other people on that bench. But she dared acknowledge it, and that caused a furor. America is clearly not living in a post-racial state. If anything, it's gotten more complicated over the years, more nuanced, now that it isn't so (cough cough) black and white. Oh, I don't feel proud about that one.

I got back to Oakville at the usual time. Figurinjg I had the afternoon off I set off for the comic shop, retracing in reverse the route I took one very nice day in November (damnit Scotto don't, don't get emotional here!) and about halway up Trafalgar headed for Lakeshore I feel that familiar ominous vibration in my pocket. Drr. HMV calling. Come in at 5? It's 3:30 and I am walking in the opposite direction. I knew my friend Cait was working that night. Okay.

I continued onward to the comics, because at this point if I make good time it wouldn't make a difference. I did make good time too, rushed home on the bus, packed a pizza pocket for "dinner" and appraised B. of the situation both regarding my work and my computer.

The shift was marred by an overhanging sense of dread. A dark cloud had obscured what could obviously have been a very cheerful time for yours truly. Because unlike all my co-workers, I knew this would not be my last shift. I knew my last shift was not on the horizon. On Wednesday night, when I arrived for my shift, Karen took me aside and asked how I'd feel about staying on.

Obviously, I accepted. That has been my goal since 2006. I wasn't ready then. 2007 I took off because it was my first year at U of T and I did not see how commuting and working could possibly work together. And I was more or less right about that, especially if my marks this past semester are any indication. But I persisted last year. Last year I was probably ready, but there was no room for ole Scotto. This year, I told anyone who asked, if it was ever going to happen it would be this year. Trevor was gone before most of the temps even showed up. Chantelle and Kas were peacing out for their respective destinations. Plus, Karen had been praising me up and down, left and right. I felt like I would be in my rights to take it personally if she didn't offer me a position.

But, she says, we may not have that many hours to start with, and I say, that's exactly fine by me since I have all this school and hey, I could probably stand to focus on it. Just book me on the weekends.

So I knew this but I was keeping it under wraps. Cait and I had been speculating for a while about who was going to be kept. I felt that if there was more than one person staying, it should be me and her. I said this not only because she was, in my estimation, the best temp other than me, but because of course, on a personally greedy level, she was the one I most liked working with.

When I first started back in October, I was complaining about how I was missing the presence of a cool girl I could joke around with. And a few weeks later, I was granted one by the universe. And I knew right away -- like, before I'd hardly said a word to her -- that she was exactly what I needed. Not because there was any serious attraction there (I have no idea what use a girl like her would have for a guy like me) because having her around to amuse, (because I knew I could say virtually anything to her) brought out all those qualities I knew I had been missing during my employment up to that point.

I had heard about other potential coworkers that might've been held on, but nothing about her, which had me bummed out. I found out today that the shift she worked today was her last. Such is life, I suppose. But I can't help but feel like I'll be holding a little resentment for the ones they keep, especially that one guy. Oh, that one guy.

The crash and burn, yesterday, was when I got home and called dad to find that there was nothing he could do about my computer, and there was a slight chance that the entire harddrive was donefor.

This was not what I wanted to hear. In fact, I broke down a little on the phone. If this was the case, then everything I had built up over my lifetime was now gone. All I had written, all my music, everything I was. A real identity crisis. A veritable psychogenic fugue. It's amazing how much of ourselves is tied up on these ineffable digital narratives... how fearing I was cut off from it forever made me feel like I'd lost myself.

I was understandably gloomy about this all day until dad confirmed it was not in fact the case. But I will now be a backup junkie, that's for sure. I don't want to be brought face to face with the stark reality of how easy it is to lose one's own sense of past ever again.

So now, until that bad boy is repaired, I'm using dad's laptop, which I have borrowed. Considering he doesn't use it much, it's not that big a deal, but it's awkward to try to go on like it's not different. I mean, it uses Vista!

This entry wasn't all it could've been because of this laptop and how easy it is to get distracted from it. Or maybe that's just me.

Work in the morning. The first day of the rest of my CD-selling career.

Keep on rockin'
-Scotto