Sunday, March 28, 2004
"Life goes by way too fast/To spend it working for somebody else/It don't make any sense"
I remember we once had a pair of 'interview pants' that we all depended on to make an impression on prospective employers. It never failed us as when the pants were worn to interviews we all received call backs. I haven't worn them in a while, noone has. I haven't been to too many job interviews in the last two and a half years and most of my roommates have been gainfully employed.
I've got this weird feeling right now and I think I could use something dependable like those pants again.
I got offered a full time position at the library I'm working at. I have to go through an interview and I'm a little nervous about that. One of the supervisors gave me a wink after I met with the head of circulation and apparently the 'wink' is suppose to mean something. I'm never very good at picking up on signals. I guess I'm stressing about this because it'll mean a year in Halifax which presents a whole lot of new possibilities.
I'm well aware this entry is bland and mundane, but sometimes I suppose that's the way things are. (post-script Just because life is often bland and mundane doesn't mean I have to make it sound that way)
Completely unrelated to all of this, tonight Claudette, Philip, and I went to see 'Dawn of the Dead.' Apparently there's this new feature in movies where people give commentary on the movie right in the theatre. I suppose this is an attempt to compete with the whole director's commentary feature on so many new dvd's. The commentary featured such gems as : "Man that girl is so stupid, she's not going to get out that way." The three of us weren't interested in hearing the commentary so when we gave the nod to turn it off we were greeted with :
"I always talk during movies, if you don't like it why dontchu move!"
I remember we once had a pair of 'interview pants' that we all depended on to make an impression on prospective employers. It never failed us as when the pants were worn to interviews we all received call backs. I haven't worn them in a while, noone has. I haven't been to too many job interviews in the last two and a half years and most of my roommates have been gainfully employed.
I've got this weird feeling right now and I think I could use something dependable like those pants again.
I got offered a full time position at the library I'm working at. I have to go through an interview and I'm a little nervous about that. One of the supervisors gave me a wink after I met with the head of circulation and apparently the 'wink' is suppose to mean something. I'm never very good at picking up on signals. I guess I'm stressing about this because it'll mean a year in Halifax which presents a whole lot of new possibilities.
I'm well aware this entry is bland and mundane, but sometimes I suppose that's the way things are. (post-script Just because life is often bland and mundane doesn't mean I have to make it sound that way)
Completely unrelated to all of this, tonight Claudette, Philip, and I went to see 'Dawn of the Dead.' Apparently there's this new feature in movies where people give commentary on the movie right in the theatre. I suppose this is an attempt to compete with the whole director's commentary feature on so many new dvd's. The commentary featured such gems as : "Man that girl is so stupid, she's not going to get out that way." The three of us weren't interested in hearing the commentary so when we gave the nod to turn it off we were greeted with :
"I always talk during movies, if you don't like it why dontchu move!"
He left them, not slowly, not after any difficulties, but abruptly. He sent letters, but it wasn't like letters sent from a father overseas, but letters never sent found in the bottom of a cedar chest. They weren't reassuring, they were a reminder that something was lacking. When someone dies it's easy to imagine all they ever were, are, and will be is erased. It's not that easy when someone just walks out of your life.
It's a small island, but it still possesses places of exile. He found one and inhabited it for 20 years. His name came up only in pauses.
When he died it was the obligation of a family that never knew him to clean up the mess he had accumulated.
It wasn't a funeral, it was a burial. Anything he had accomplished that deserved to be feted or remembered took place 20 years previous. It was all just a formality.
"He wasn't a father. I don't hate him, but I was a bastard."
It's a small island, but it still possesses places of exile. He found one and inhabited it for 20 years. His name came up only in pauses.
When he died it was the obligation of a family that never knew him to clean up the mess he had accumulated.
It wasn't a funeral, it was a burial. Anything he had accomplished that deserved to be feted or remembered took place 20 years previous. It was all just a formality.
"He wasn't a father. I don't hate him, but I was a bastard."
Against my better judgement I went to the Northend Diner for a late afternoon meal with a loan from my parents secured. I found myself sitting in my usual booth which means the Diner's becoming more and more of a hangout from me. I suppose this all makes sense since it's less than a block from my door to its door. It reminds me of some reason of my Barpa Bill's in Banff. Not for any sense of atmosphere or the food, it's just that at both places I usually end up ending alone and reading the paper.
The diner wasn't particularly busy and the most animated conversations were occurring in and around the kitchen. The other patrons at the less animated booths were an elderly couple and an elderly man dining by himself. I didn't really take much notice of them until I was about 3/4's of the way through my own meal.
The elderly couple left and with them their background noise. I started to notice that the elderly man in the booth in front of me was mumbling to himself. At first nothing was audible aside from mumbling and grumbling, but as I focused more clearly on what he was saying I began picking up several strings of expletives, mmmgrhhrm grhmm ghmmrmmmm FUCK mmgmg FUCKING DMN. It then seemed to go on like a record with locking grooves.
I didn't really feel like finishing my salad.
The diner wasn't particularly busy and the most animated conversations were occurring in and around the kitchen. The other patrons at the less animated booths were an elderly couple and an elderly man dining by himself. I didn't really take much notice of them until I was about 3/4's of the way through my own meal.
The elderly couple left and with them their background noise. I started to notice that the elderly man in the booth in front of me was mumbling to himself. At first nothing was audible aside from mumbling and grumbling, but as I focused more clearly on what he was saying I began picking up several strings of expletives, mmmgrhhrm grhmm ghmmrmmmm FUCK mmgmg FUCKING DMN. It then seemed to go on like a record with locking grooves.
I didn't really feel like finishing my salad.
