Month: October 2013

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Reading Material

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Our Books, Ourselves.

I have been reading for so long I honestly haven’t thought about what it is about the things I routinely read that draws me in and makes me want to read it in the first place. People ask me all the time what I’ve read that was good, and I scan my brain to think about what that person might find interesting from the myriad of things I’ve read recently, but I hardly ever think about what it was that I myself found intriguing about the book that kept me reading it. So, when I read the daily prompt yesterday I stopped and thought about it. The prompt said, “How do you pick what blogs or books to read? What’s the one thing that will get you to pick up a book or click on a link every single time?” It made me really think, which is the common denominator with daily prompts that I actually participate in, so I decided to dig deep and figure it out.

#1 – There needs to be some connection to my own life, no matter how fragile. Continue reading “Reading Material”

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I Did What?: My Sordid Job History, Volume 6

I think a lot about the jobs people do and how they ended up there, just one of my many quirks being a people watcher. When I was in the mall the other day I saw this girl working at one of those “turn gold into cash” kiosks that takes all your gold and gives you a pittance for it. She was sitting there on a stool reading a book. Blonde hair. Nose ring. Angular face. The book she was reading was in another language, possibly Russian. I would say she was no more than 25 years old. And I thought about why she was working at that kiosk, how she even found out about the job, and what it would pay to do something like that. I almost walked over and asked her those questions, but she was working, even though no one else was approaching her kiosk. That’s just how my mind works, and I do that same thing many times during any day. Then I started thinking about what people see when they look at me when I’m working. Do they wonder those same things about me, or do they just go on about their day oblivious to the curious stories they might be missing out on?

When I first moved here 11 years ago I needed a job in the worst way. I hadn’t yet finished my undergraduate degree, and I was having to stay with my girlfriend’s mother for at least the first month while I found that job so that I could support myself. That first week up here I was scouring every single ad for jobs in all the local papers, placing phone calls for interviews, and even visiting a staffing solutions company, yet nothing seemed to pan out. The staffing solutions company had nothing that fit my qualifications, and because I was going to be going back to school in the fall (I moved here in late May), my hours were a difficulty to get past. That’s why I didn’t get that job at the prison, and why even though I was able to get a writing job for a computer company it was royalty dependent, so in essence I didn’t even get paid for that job until the software was released along with my companion writing piece. It was beyond frustrating. I even thought about selling encyclopedias door to door, but bailed at the last minute. Continue reading “I Did What?: My Sordid Job History, Volume 6”

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Vicarious Joy

people-smiling“They say misery loves company. We should start a company and make misery. Frustrated, Incorporated.” – Soul Asylum

The first time I heard that song I was eighteen years old, fresh out of high school but with no clear idea of what the future held. Honestly, I still don’t know, but back then it was so murky I was worried it would never resolve itself into the picture I hoped it would show, a successful man who took life by the horns and made it do his bidding. So, I identified with the lyrics of that song, as frustrated as I was back then. Of course at 18 we are all usually so unfocused and despondent about life, having just completed one phase and being caught in the limbo between that one and the next.

And then I would see everyone else going about their lives looking happy, walking from place to place with steady strides that told me they were going places, that they were happy, that they knew so much more about themselves and their destinations than I would ever know about mine. Continue reading “Vicarious Joy”