January Roundup

I had a pretty good job offer, out of the blue (I won't go into details) around the middle of January. Then an interview, and then waiting. The rest of January turned into waiting. Why do I let myself do that? I guess there are certain situations that just don't come around often enough to learn from, and then you end up making the same mistakes over and over and over.

Another birthday, and now I'm 51. Sometimes that just sounds incredibly young to me.

I'm still working on my novel. When I started it, I was in my 30s. That's the truth.

It snowed a lot this January. Maybe I'll try to put another snow picture here or there.

One More Asshole For The Road

I really don’t like myself when I complain too much, and I really do believe I’m so lucky, just fortunate in so many ways. It seems not only unattractive to complain and whine, but also inappropriate, or just wrong. But some days are a little more rough than others, and sometimes interestingly so, at least enough to write about briefly. Today was just pretty significantly exhausting in more way than one. Another work day at my job I don’t like, and I was thinking how this was the longest week and a half of work I’ve ever experienced. This is not the way to start a year, I was thinking, unless I can somehow insure that it just gets better, which of course I can’t. But in fact, when I think about it for two seconds, I think about how good I do have it, everything, compared to so many people.

Anyway, I’ve been working at this place as a kind of temp (though more permanent and regular than a temp) at the same place for two and a half years. Today they unofficially offered to hire me as a regular employee, which would mean a significant increase in pay. So, as positive as that should be, I felt conflicted, thinking, really, shouldn’t I find a whole different job, a better paying job, a job I like better, and just generally something new? Of course it’s still a really rough time for finding a job, and this is a rough town for finding a job, especially for someone like me who is now officially “older” and who doesn’t have job skills that match up with what a lot of employers consider important. But would saying "yes" be like flashing my ID at the Gates of Hell? So in a way, I felt excited, but conflicted. A little emotional, which, you know, contributes to letting your guard down.

While considering all this, I got yelled at really inappropriately for something that was not my fault, but of course you can never stick up for yourself (considered “crazy” behavior)—it’s like telling them “you’re wrong.” Well, as I often dwell on, I am really not good about getting blamed for something that I shouldn’t be blamed for, ever since that grade school bus driver marched into the back of the bus and beat me over the head with his plastic ball bat, for fighting, which I was not, of course. I know I should just get over that, Dr. Cochrane, but you know, if I haven’t gotten over it in like forty years, it’s not likely to happen any time soon.

Escaping the workplace each day isn’t the end, there is still the subway to deal with, and the grocery store, and generally the population. I think that New York is the most amazing place I’ve ever lived, in that there are so many people at such close quarters, yet such tolerance and really, mellowness, relatively, anyway. But still, some days I just want to get home untouched, un-talked-to, and when I do get home for the evening, it’s such a relief. Due to the day’s mega-stress, I decided to take a hot bath, and in the middle of my bath I heard banging out in the hall, though nothing too alarming, and then Cindy called, just arriving outside, I guess, and said there where fire trucks and an ambulance outside. So I looked out in the hall for smoke, and there was fireman coming down the stairs from the roof. He went by my bike, which is locked to a railing in the hall, hitting it with his fire axe.

I asked, “What’s going on?” wondering if I should get dressed and get out of the building, naturally, or what. He just mumbled something unintelligible, then said, “You can’t have your bike in the hall. Get it out of the hall.” Then he proceeded down the stairs. I assumed, at that point, there was not a raging fire, at least. I'm sure firefighters have a stressful job, and more false alarms that you can imagine, and get tired of hearing things like, “Is there a fire?” but hell, from my point of view it wasn’t like this was a real person, or a real even. It was just one more asshole this day was throwing at me before I finally got to relax. But then, I guess you have to add, at least it wasn't a fire.

Museum of Art of the Moment Alright

One of my errands at work today was to go to the DOT (Department of Transportation) and pick up some kind of summons or something. I love errands like this, it makes my job seems bearable, even fun. It’s in an office building way downtown, near Wall Street, that big kind of government building, though only average security, really pretty relaxed. It’s an office you just WISH you could get a job at, things piled around here and there, very homey for an office. The employees seem pretty relaxed and going at their own, human pace.

So I’m waiting in the front of the office in some chairs by the door (there is no receptionist) while the guy takes care of my paperwork. I’m there about 20 minutes, just observing the place. There is an insane amount of Christmas decorations, hanging glittery snowflakes and stars, fake snow everywhere, including a big fake snow blanket draped over a copy machine, with a couple of elves on top of it. No way they’re going to be able to USE that copy machine! And then by the front wall is a whole scene; it’s the North Pole, with a paper igloo taped to the wall and a handmade sign that says: “North Pole”—very well done, actually, with nice lettering and icicles hanging from it. There are a bunch of wire sculpture reindeer standing about, pretty big ones, like major lawn ornament things. There is just a ton of some kind of white powdery stuff, to replicate snow, dumped all over the deep blue carpet in front of the igloo. These are just all-out winter/Christmas decorations!

But while I’m sitting there, admiring the scene, for no apparent reason, the igloo takes this opportunity to free itself from the wall—I guess the tape wore out—and limply plopped over into the snow. The back of it is brown paper, and there are big loops of packing tape which formerly held it to the wall. I’m sitting there in amazement, just staring at the fallen-over igloo. And I was thinking: there are a lot of museums in this town, and galleries, and more art than any one person could take in even if it was their fulltime job. But this little dilapidated winter scene, and the falling-over igloo, this is, without a doubt, the best art in all of New York at this moment.

I am the Nightrider!

I always liked this scene at the beginning of Mad Max (1979), for some reason, where the Nightrider is driving this stolen hotrod with his girlfriend, and they’re both high, or crazy, or both, and the police are after them, but pretty powerless to catch them because they’re just fearless. They’re just tearing along at high speeds while the police keep crashing, and he’s taunting them on a police radio, and he seems pretty indestructible, until finally, of course, Mad Max goes after him.

I guess it just occurred to me that this is how I feel about writing, sometimes, where things are going well and you just feel reckless and good, with no fear—complete confidence. You wish it could always be that way, but you know, deep inside, how that would mean you’re not human, and anything you write would be worthless anyway. I suppose there are people who just are always confident and with no fear, but they’re pretty annoying, aren’t they?

But soon enough, it always happens, no matter how well the writing—or whatever you’re doing—is going, you get to a point where you doubt everything—where you feel like you’ve just lost it. But hopefully you realize that won’t last either. It always goes back and forth, and that’s okay. I guess knowing that is one of the things that makes it bearable.

This still of the Nightrider and his girlfriend is from this scene that illustrates perfectly that moment when total, insane confidence instantly changes to fear. The next time I’m trying to write something—which is pretty much any time I try to write something—and I feel any confidence I’ve had erode to nothing, I’m going to think of this scene. You were going along at 100 mph and there was nothing going to stop you, but just like that, you lose it all—because Mad Max is on your ass.

Happy New Year!

I went headfirst into the first day of the new year confidently believing that the Rose Bowl college football game between Wisconsin and TCU would be on broadcast TV. I’m pretty sure every Rose Bowl of the past, and all the major bowl games, have been on broadcast TV. I’m sure of it, because each year I’m aware of what I can watch and what I can’t—the lesser bowl games being only available on cable. So even though the online TV listings said it was on ESPN, and the football listings said the same—well, I guess because ESPN and ABC are affiliated, and often a game will be scheduled out to the network at the last minute, based on regional interest—I just assumed it would end up on ABC. But no!

I felt like I was going insane. I mean, really, this should not surprise me or be a big deal. There are a lot of bigger things, more important and dire things, that should be a big deal to me. Yet somehow this seems like a really significant milestone. But it seems to have been ignored by the vast public. Maybe it’s just a sign of how out of it I am. I can’t escape the uneasy feeling that sooner than I think I’m going to find myself being held down by vacant eyed device zombies while they implant a chip into my neck or tattoo me with a barcode. Am I just overreacting?