So it has begun. My big career. They do roll it out though. 2 days of introductions to everything. Not like being a temp there at all- where they dump you behind a desk with a sketchy laptop and say, "figure it out chump." And I did. Which is probably why I am there today. And tomorrow. And the following day. Something to exhibit on my I love me wall- with the meaningless diplomas, and the picture of Oprah. Because when I start to rest on the laurels, they don't matter any more.
And hey, everyone, guess what! The dreams are starting up again. Last night's was particularly great- it included two glow in the dark floating heads, and my husband telling me that he doesn't particularly like me anymore. It was great. So that oughta be a pip.
Ah, but it's time to soldier on. Because the above is no doubt temporary, and if not, there are drugs that can help. Or at the very least some kind of substance.
And the sun is shining. It might break 75 today. Which is overall very springlike, no?
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4 comments:
oh my fuck; i went through 2.5 days of "orientation" and "benefits explanations" and "sexual harrassment" videos (very 80s stylee), and "security issues" due to the sensitive nature of my work with state standards and testing and "no child left behind" and "campus security" in case someone jumps me at night and date-rapes me, and "retirement benefits" which are slightly less complicated than the health insurance stuff (when in hell am i vested in this Teachers' Pension??) and so on and so on.
Welcome to the Perpetual Purgatory Waiting Room. They have shit coffee here, but the conversations are bearable. Sly? Meet Dante. Dante? Meet Sly. I'm gonna go over to that corner and see if I can get that big insect who suspiciously looks like Kafka, to talk to me.
I hate meetings like that one. Bleargh. Goork. Etc.
Picture of Oprah? Hmm. Interesting. I, myself, have pictures of Anne Sexton, Emily Dickinson, and Frida Kahlo. Because eyebrows are important parts of my daily considerations. And Anne reminds me that I can't be happy & a great poet. So I can just get over it.
Icky dreams. I have had far too many funeral-going dreams lately. I knew seeing the actual "open casket" at FIL's thing would get into my subliminality. Attention: Could the dreams of Brad Pitt in _Troy_ please return? Thank you very much. That is all.
i have no pictures of anyone famous.
i don't know why.
but i do have all original art on my walls...paintings and photos taken by my friends, and ex.
i love original art.
Ok- I love original art too- and the cool thing is that I sit to the right of a Kiki Smith painting at work. And there are some other significant pieces on my floor. But at home- we have the original stuff, some prints, and pretty much everything stacked on the floor- because we don't want to repair nail holes when we leave.
The picture of Oprah has me in it- as I was on the book club once upon a time. It is meant not to show off my amazing connections, but to inspire me to actually achieve things. Sort of my version of the little engine that could. Or something.
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