radfrac_archive_full (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
radfrac_archive_full) wrote2004-12-28 11:19 am
radfrac_archive_full) wrote2004-12-28 11:19 am
first anniversary entry
It's a year ago today that I started this LiveJournal. I've been waiting impatiently all week to write a commemorative entry, and now that I come to do it, I don't have anything prepared.
The year cleaves for me into several clear segments, like an orange that pulls apart into crescents of different colours -- a blood orange, then, or possibly a not-very-orange-at-all. (Limes and lemons don't segment, do they? Just oranges and grapefruits and that ilk? I can't remember anyone ever segmenting a lime. If I sound oddly unfamiliar with citrus fruit, well, I am. I came to them late, by an odd but uninteresting set of circumstances not detailed here.)
The first part was the Vancouver part, of course, and then there's the gummy bit between, like pith but stickier, which is moving back to Victoria, and the brief sojurn in Rattletrap Manor -- more than ever like a stay in a Bed & Breafast, some disastrous vacation in splendid surroundings.
And then that bleak August I hope never to relive, even in an eternally repeating universe; I'll shut my eyes when I know that bit is coming. And now Paris, and the negotiations of a new life. And it is, you know, a sunnier December than I expected, children. (I can call you children because I'm not speaking to your faces, wise and solemn, but your youthful cores (kores...).)
<-- click there
I had my first day at the new job yesterday. After the first three hours of the training, I was in despair, mostly about the dress code (I look ridiculous with my shirt tucked in -- like a young St. Nick in mufti) -- and then we had time down on The Floor, which, contrary to how it sounds, just means listening in on someone taking calls. We had two hours of that, and I thought it would go terribly slowly, since I remember that kind of training at Former Employer.
Instead of which I had a Rocking Good Time, and left the Floor totally juiced. I'm quite looking forward to it.
The rep I was listening in on was youngish and shaggy-haired in that way that makes you look like a rock star, or possibly a slightly famous actor playing a rock star in a movie -- rather than shaggy-haired like me, which makes me look like antique rockabilly roadkill, or possibly a grandmother in her pompadour wig.
We didn't really have time to talk, because he was taking so many calls, but I liked him; and I liked him more when I noticed he had a full set of perfectly-sculpted half-inch fingernails. I thought of asking him if he played guitar and then smiling wryly (oh I am just so subtle) (or justplain out asking him what his drag name was) but there wasn't an opportunity.
When I was done, we shook hands with ironic firmness and parted.
"See you on the Floor!" he called after me.
Now there's something to look forward to.
{rf}
[p.s. And if you ever come to read this, SirandMadam, I have no real designs on your Person, not even doodles; but it was an awfully nice thing to meet you, in that place and time.]
The year cleaves for me into several clear segments, like an orange that pulls apart into crescents of different colours -- a blood orange, then, or possibly a not-very-orange-at-all. (Limes and lemons don't segment, do they? Just oranges and grapefruits and that ilk? I can't remember anyone ever segmenting a lime. If I sound oddly unfamiliar with citrus fruit, well, I am. I came to them late, by an odd but uninteresting set of circumstances not detailed here.)
The first part was the Vancouver part, of course, and then there's the gummy bit between, like pith but stickier, which is moving back to Victoria, and the brief sojurn in Rattletrap Manor -- more than ever like a stay in a Bed & Breafast, some disastrous vacation in splendid surroundings.
And then that bleak August I hope never to relive, even in an eternally repeating universe; I'll shut my eyes when I know that bit is coming. And now Paris, and the negotiations of a new life. And it is, you know, a sunnier December than I expected, children. (I can call you children because I'm not speaking to your faces, wise and solemn, but your youthful cores (kores...).)
<-- click there
I had my first day at the new job yesterday. After the first three hours of the training, I was in despair, mostly about the dress code (I look ridiculous with my shirt tucked in -- like a young St. Nick in mufti) -- and then we had time down on The Floor, which, contrary to how it sounds, just means listening in on someone taking calls. We had two hours of that, and I thought it would go terribly slowly, since I remember that kind of training at Former Employer.
Instead of which I had a Rocking Good Time, and left the Floor totally juiced. I'm quite looking forward to it.
The rep I was listening in on was youngish and shaggy-haired in that way that makes you look like a rock star, or possibly a slightly famous actor playing a rock star in a movie -- rather than shaggy-haired like me, which makes me look like antique rockabilly roadkill, or possibly a grandmother in her pompadour wig.
We didn't really have time to talk, because he was taking so many calls, but I liked him; and I liked him more when I noticed he had a full set of perfectly-sculpted half-inch fingernails. I thought of asking him if he played guitar and then smiling wryly (oh I am just so subtle) (or justplain out asking him what his drag name was) but there wasn't an opportunity.
When I was done, we shook hands with ironic firmness and parted.
"See you on the Floor!" he called after me.
Now there's something to look forward to.
{rf}
[p.s. And if you ever come to read this, SirandMadam, I have no real designs on your Person, not even doodles; but it was an awfully nice thing to meet you, in that place and time.]