Buying Q-tips is an existential moment. They only come in packs of what, 50,000? You can’t help but wonder what your life will be like the next time you’ll need to buy them, or what the world will be like, or who you’ll be with, or if you’ll have a dog, or a kid, or if you’ll even be alive. Maybe Q-tips won’t even exist by then. Maybe nothing will exist by then. But now someone bumps you with their Wal-Mart cart and jolts you from your nihilism and the moment is lost, maybe never to be experienced again depending on how frequently you use Q-tips.
Internet withdrawal continues, but I have this electric clock that’s twice as old as the internet itself, so there’s that.
The underline means it’s not a test?
This week I had the compulsory pleasure of attending “New” Employee Orientation, a day-long affair that began with words of welcome and praise, paused in the middle for lousy pizza (seriously?!), and concluded with the reminder that we will all die, and if we don’t have an adequate retirement plan or designated beneficiaries then we’re screwed. Well, it wasn’t put so bluntly, though the woman’s point was the same.
My mind was elsewhere by then (in the bed section of IKEA, specifically) but thinking back on it now, everything they told us that day is still hard to grasp. Planning for the future? The future-future? It was like the day in Physics class when Mr. McCooey explained how time travel was theoretically possible. The words slowly sank in and just kept sinking. The future. It’s out there, in theory, like an astro-physical way to slow time, but no explanations or definitions will bring it down to earth. After the presentation I hated the word.
On a more tangible note, I am accumulating furniture (still no bed, but a desk—priorities first!) and am happily reliving the days when I was a 5-year-old housewife with a plastic FisherPrice kitchen.
Watercolors by Ming Cho Lee. Ming Cho Lee. And Internet. Could this day get any better?? Oh it just did. There are cookies.
Oh Internet. I hate that I love you so. I’m writing this from the floor of the lobby of the drama building because I’m too cool (read: financially deficient) to have wifi in my apartment. Apparently the same goes for a bed, dishes, TV, and a lot of other things I’m realizing I don’t have anymore. But I have awesome old push-in light switches, so who cares?
Last weekend while my mom was in New Haven we went to Verdana. I mean IKEA. It was our first time there, which must have been obvious as we stopped every few steps to stare incredulously at something (look at that lamp / am I supposed to be following this arrow / what a clever box this is / was that kid eating a cinnamon bun?). It’s more than a store—it’s a country. With its own economy, infrastructure, cuisine, and language. We, of course, were the clueless tourists. I can’t wait to go back, since it’s less than two miles away. (But is it worth giving up my parking space??)
Moving out was a bit surreal. I don’t think it’s hit me yet. Maybe I’ll write again when it does.
Found an old sign-less sign…someone somewhere could probably relate this metaphorically to something.
Leaves are changing and things are changing and it’s anxious and refreshing and scary and awesome and slow and uncertain and fast and all so very now.
Among these things was a long overdue welcome into the 21st century via a 4s (both a generation behind and a lightyear ahead). My env3 was still kicking at 7 years old, and now it’s sitting on my desk making me feel like a traitor.
Another of these things is sitting in my driveway. It’s 13 years old, metallic beige, sounds suspiciously like a tractor, and was exchanged for every dollar in my bank account. And I couldn’t be more thrilled. Buying my first car insurance policy made me feel very grown up and very, very broke.
Apartment hunting has so far proven impossible. The search was fun at first but now I’m thinking I’ll never find a place that’s a fraction of decent and affordable….! I’ve been commuting, which also was fun at first but now I’m thinking humankind might disown me if it ever knew I’d started rapping Eminem in Spanish.
It’s easy to get future-centric, so it’s good to stop and look around once in a while. Here’s to enjoying Fall, the best time of year. A season build on change and transience, which is why it never lasts long enough.
Craigslisting like it’s my job for the past month. With a big fake porch and Austrian parking, I think we have a winner….too bad it’s in Waterbury, which is a funny way of spelling New Haven.
Other times, well, you know.
Almost forgot to do this today…wicked long day. And now I want boots.
I never thought I could be so excited about anything beige….
I was in New Haven today and decided to go on a tour of Yale. Under the guise of shortness and braces, I pretended that I, too, was an incoming student and that I, too, was smart enough to belong there.
The collegiate-Gothic architecture, brick paths, affectionate use of “quad,” and elitist air brought back memories of touring a couple unmentionable schools in Providence a lifetime ago. It felt like Hogwarts, and I was a Muggle. I wondered if something in my being would betray me as an outsider—could they smell the cows, public schooling, middle class?
The area is known for its architecture. Weathered stone roofs, Gothic arches, cathedral towers…all together creating a very worldly and distinguished impression in mere mortals. It was interesting to learn that Yale’s chief architect had created the look by pouring acid down the sides of the buildings and singeing the tops with flaming bales of hay to make the stone look tastefully aged—a facade in all meanings of the word. Whether this metaphor extends to life beyond the corroded stone, I don’t know. But it did bring a strange sense of satisfaction as I stood in awe at the base of Harkness Tower, wishing I had worn a blazer.