On Jobs

Working is a large part of life. I find it bordering on criminal that I have to spend half of my life with people that do not go through the same rigorous vetting process that my friends and M went through. Sometimes you get extremely lucky and your co-workers become actual friends. For me that has rarely been the case. In all of my years of working, I have made one friend and he lives in Albany.

I grew up believing that because you spend so much of your life working, you'd better make sure that you like your job. I had the luxury of growing up middle class, so money was never a consideration when it came to employment (beyond being able to live, that is). Take money out of the equation and that opens the door to many professions like Archives.

Previously, I worked at an archives that I really enjoyed. I was there for 3 years before moving on and would have stayed longer had geographic circumstances been different. It was the perfect quirky, unique position. It was interesting and I had a lot of freedom to go in many different directions.

Then I had to move on and I moved on to a place that looked great on paper with a company that actually is pretty great. What should have tipped me off was the salary. It was way too high for an archives position. When the new car smell wore off I was left with a boring job, isolated into a cubicle. It was the exact job that I had worked so hard to avoid.

Why is he using the past tense?

Because I have moved on once again; this time to a job that I am confident will be "all that and a bag of chips." No longer a corporate archivist, now (and perhaps forever) a photo archivist (or photograph curator as my actual title reads). I'll be working with (and for) the public and again it looks like I may have freedom to decide on projects.

Finally I'll be working with other archivists instead of just e-mail responses from lists; disembodied advice and misunderstood questions.

2008 is indeed looking like it is going to be a great year.

The Neglected

So here is how it goes: you are tired from the day and just don't feel like unpacking that last box or you just don't have anything new to say to that pen pal from Kuala Lumpur. You'll do it tomorrow you say. But you don't do it tomorrow. You don't unpack the day after or the day after that. Soon its been a month and your pen pal has heard nothing.

Was there a military coup in the US, they wonder?
Maybe my friend from America was taken by a UFO like my Canadian girlfriend was. Maybe both.

Sadly, no. You aren't under house arrest by Kang or Kodos, it's simply that so much time has passed that the box has become a symbol of shame and the letter admonishes you as if it were alive like a character in the Brave Little Toaster.

Like the time you missed seeing Mr. T at the mall, you know you'll regret it if you continue to ignore your conscience. But you do it anyway and more time passes and then it comes to a breaking point.

You ask yourself, do you really want to be one of those people who just moves a box of crap from one residence to another; do you really want to let your pen pal, who could be washed away in a tidal wave at any time, believe that you have forgotten to write back. I thought you wanted to contradict what the international community thought of Americans.

So you suck it up and you unpack that box of sex toys, you write back to your Malaysian friend a lengthy treatise on the many types of sex toys and you finally get back to posting about your dogs on your neglected blog.

Yesterday was Oscar and Felixs' birthday. They are now two years old. Here is what they looked like back then. They haven't had much of an Autumn to speak of. I'm at work, M is at school. After five, I'm cleaning film for TAMI, or helping organize the Archivists of Central Texas regional association and M is still at school.

When I am home and its not dark, we play fetch in the backyard. That is there new favorite activity. I throw the ball and Felix will bring it back, then he'll go long and Oscar will stand in front of me and stare at the ball. The result is that Felix is always downfield when I throw the ball and thus he always gets it. It didn't work that way in Albany because there was always enough room for the much faster Oscar to make up time. So here I have to be strategic and fool Felix into going one way while I throw the ball the other so Oscar can occasionally get the ball. And what does he do when he gets it. He goes over to Felix and literally shoves the ball in Felix's face like the gracious winner he is.

In other birthday news, M and I are blowing off a party, seeing some old friends, and Gaelic Storm (h/t to Uncle Joe) to spend the weekend in north Texas to attend my niece's birthday party. She's turning 1. She's lucky she's cute.

Now that we've confronted our shame, we promise to have more content in the future...publish or perish.

The experiment is what?

The experiment is over. No, not the dog one, the rural life experiment. M and I moved for one reason: so that I could gain the experience needed to someday return to Austin with a decent paying job.

The experiment is over.
Now, I can get to appreciating all of what I'm going to miss about ranch life: I'm going to miss the snakes and spiders (mo' poisonous, mo' better), the scorpions, the myriad of bugs, beetles, grasshoppers, walking sticks, mantids, bees, wasps, lizards, hawks, owls, kites, moo cows, horses, coyotes, road runners, the view, the storms,the stars!, moonlit nights you could read a book they were so bright, quietude, drumming whenever I pleased, peeing in the middle of the yard, moonless nights do dark you couldn't see your hand unless it was silhouetted against the stars, that one eclipse of the moon, our yard, our veterinarian, the cheap rent. I guess there is more than I thought I'd miss.

The experiment is over.
Essentially, it is the other 15 hours of the day where the liabilities of small town "come to light" (in the parlance of our times). More for M than me. I actually really like my job. Our collective "beef" with this town are many and they have been documented. But not here...this is a celebratory post.

The experiment is over
Now it is time to pay back what I owe. M supported me when I was unemploy(able?)ed and when I was in grad school. And then I asked her to pick up and move from a job that she liked. All for me. Well now its my turn. The risk was worth it as my remuneration will be enough to support M while she takes her sabbatical from reality. We'll be looking for housing now; housing with a yard, a spare bedroom, quiet neighbors, all for under $1000. Hey, it could happen.

The experiment is over.
Moving time has come. If anyone is interested in helping, we'll likely do it May 26th or June 2. Keep those dates in mind. Dinner and beer on us.

The blog may change form in the coming months to punctuate the change, but we'll keep the name.

In case I haven't been clear, I did get that job that I interviewed for last week. And just in time. Yea!