Tuesday, July 27, 2010

Catching Up

June and July have flown by. As is to be expected. We live for our summers like we do the weekends. Even someone like myself who despises heat and strongly prefers autumn chills to summer rays can still appreciate the excitement dating back to childhood which comes with anticipation of the summer months. And like all things that excite us, the summers seem to fly...

June left something to be desired. Not that I had time for things like desiring...or breathing. My five job extravaganza continued through most of the month, though not very much outside of proctoring for the Princeton Review ever happened. The Census ended earlier than expected as well, as I was not making the alleged hourly minimum each week. As you could imagine, this came as quite the surprise to me since no minimum had ever been articulated to myself--or anyone else to my knowledge. Though technically given the option to resign and therefore keeping my record clean, I was essentially fired for a complete miscommunication on the part of my superior. This was a first for me. I doubt it to be the last. Incompetence runs rampant in so-called "professional" environments.

So, at some point in the month I was down to three jobs: Crazy Mocha, Camel, and Photobooth. I managed to bank a decent amount, allowing me to pay my bills and make my car repair. At some point in all the madness I turned 25 as well. A week long vacation to Mexico with my mom was long overdue and much appreciated. Even so, it came and went and afterwards felt like a mere hiccup in the hectic. June was a countdown to something better.

The last few days before my hiatus were maddening. Even though I regularly work without days off there was something about my final week at home that nearly sent me over the edge. Likely the very knowledge of my fast approaching holiday was adding to the pressure. Whatever it was, I was on autopilot. Friday, Saturday, and Sunday I worked the photobooth job. So, I worked 36 hours in 3 days. Add to that a Monday departure and my mind was running circles around itself. Somehow I managed to get packed, become a quarter of a century old (my birthday was that Saturday. As I turned 25 years of age I worked the photobooth for a Bar Mitzvah at a country club that could not have sent the family back any less than 40K. A reminder of my place in the words, I suppose.), and actually make it to the airport for my evening flight. My ass hit the seat and I was in heaven. Six hours to Parisian bliss.

My time is sparse, more to come...

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