I have fallen into someone else's routine.
I didn't realize it until today - but it is certainly true. Once again it is proven that no one is their own person, we are all mere puppets in the game of a chanceful life.
My alarm goes off at eight – and because the manufacturer of Casio’s travel clock made the decision to set a four minute snooze, I am forced to hit it twice.
The Core Reality Group decided in renovating to install water-heaters that take a while to heat up, so instead of doing the “cold-water tippy-toe” dance around the outside of the stream I brush my teeth. Because Philips set a two-minute timer on the Sonicare 9300 I am forced to do this for a full 120 seconds (occasionally I reclaim my independence by going for a second round).
The Philadelphia Enquirer – an odd paper in itself – refuses to throw the paper in front of my door. Instead they choose to make it more difficult on themselves and throw to the main entrance of the Becker Building. By someone else’s design my routine includes walking down my front steps and immediately back up the next set of steps to the lobby doors. Exception is this morning, a rare morning when they throw the paper on the complete opposite side of the building. Not only is it frustrating, but thoroughly confusing.
SEPTA (South Eastern Pennsylvania Transportation Authority) somewhere along the way decided it was unnecessary to run the trolleys on an actual schedule. So they get there when they damn-well-please. Often after several minute of waiting I am forced into an alternative routine…walking. I do so according to the routine of the crossing signals and erratic drivers on Girard Avenue. SEPTA further controls my morning by running the EL every ten(ish) minutes.
Jeff – who gets to the desk at six a.m. – typically takes a smoke break just about the time I arrive. Part of my morning ritual, thanks to Jeff – and Marlboro, is to wait for him to return so I can say “good morning.” Yes, that is essential.
Once I get to work my day is controlled by doctors, managers and editors. Going home is just as bad.
I suppose it is true we are all controlled by the decisions of others to some degree. I guess the main reason I am thinking about it this morning is this:
Last night I watched the republican YouTube debates. If one of those guys gets to control my life, in any fashion more than being an Enquirer paper-boy, I might have to do more than just continually color my hair.
11.29.2007
11.13.2007
When the bough breaks...for real
I realize I have a post entitled "When the bough breaks." I also realize if you read the post you may have no idea why.
Contrary to the proof (my blog) I have tons of post ideas popping into my head at any point during my day. Sometimes I will write them down on my hand, of course, they never actually make it to the page.
Last post, I had intended to make a double-subject post. Part one being what it turned out to be, and part 2 being what this one is.
--- *** ---
My building shakes.
I mean, it really shakes back and forth. Sways to and fro.
During our orientation Cathy mentioned that the building shakes - but even after our first half-hour we knew better than to take Cathy too seriously. I assumed when she said the building would shake, she meant the jack hammers were loud (which they are, very).
What she really meant was the first 3 days I thought the guys across the partition from my quadricle were wrestling on their desks and bumping my wall. Then I thought my desk-mate (it's a wrap-around desk) did that really annoying foot shaking thing that moves the whole table at a restaurant (the worst is when you know it is that one guy that came with your friend, but you don't really know him well enough to ask him to stop. Typically I end up subtly kicking his shin).
But no, it's the whole building.
Normally it isn't too bad. A slight headache from the shaking monitor. The occasional belch from my stomach being rumbled for me. But every once in a while I am positive the whole building is coming down...and I scream.
They are tearing down the building attached to ours. It used to be a radio station, they are building a Jewish-American museum in its place. I am fairly certain the entire art department will soon be wiped out with a stray wrecking ball. Who needs 'em anyway.
But until that day, I will just get my sea legs and continue to press on.
Contrary to the proof (my blog) I have tons of post ideas popping into my head at any point during my day. Sometimes I will write them down on my hand, of course, they never actually make it to the page.
Last post, I had intended to make a double-subject post. Part one being what it turned out to be, and part 2 being what this one is.
--- *** ---
My building shakes.
I mean, it really shakes back and forth. Sways to and fro.
During our orientation Cathy mentioned that the building shakes - but even after our first half-hour we knew better than to take Cathy too seriously. I assumed when she said the building would shake, she meant the jack hammers were loud (which they are, very).
What she really meant was the first 3 days I thought the guys across the partition from my quadricle were wrestling on their desks and bumping my wall. Then I thought my desk-mate (it's a wrap-around desk) did that really annoying foot shaking thing that moves the whole table at a restaurant (the worst is when you know it is that one guy that came with your friend, but you don't really know him well enough to ask him to stop. Typically I end up subtly kicking his shin).
But no, it's the whole building.
Normally it isn't too bad. A slight headache from the shaking monitor. The occasional belch from my stomach being rumbled for me. But every once in a while I am positive the whole building is coming down...and I scream.
They are tearing down the building attached to ours. It used to be a radio station, they are building a Jewish-American museum in its place. I am fairly certain the entire art department will soon be wiped out with a stray wrecking ball. Who needs 'em anyway.
But until that day, I will just get my sea legs and continue to press on.
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