|I havenít written in 25 days, according to the Diaryland profile page I just logged on to. Since I last wrote a bunch of stupid stuff has been happening, and hereís the catalogue.
Work is OK. I should say that since there are two jobs in consideration that work sometimes can be good while itís also bad. At Glendale Iím chugging along. Iím pretty sure that the people there donít know what to make of me. Itís pretty much like that everywhere I end up. Iím unconventional because I donít know better. I always envied those who I thought was outside the norm, and that didnít seem to fit in a box. But little did I know that I admired them while being one of them (or so I think these days from peopleís reaction). I see EVERYTHING... itís pretty sick to notice everything. I used to like filtering many things because it was just too much to deal with. But these days I love noticing details that others miss. San Marino job is going well. There have been a bunch of meetings about the schedule and such over the last couple of months, because weíre still getting settled in.
There was some sad news though, the woman who was the City Librarian, and who hired me, passed away a couple of weeks ago from cancer. Having dealt with someone I love passing away from cancer I feel for her husband and her family. There was a reception last week for her at the library. A lot of people attended. I was inspired by a eulogy made by her father-in-law in which he quoted a few lines from a book she recommended him. The main theme of his eulogy was the love of books, which is by extension the love of the word... my love. While he spoke an idea came into my head and I jotted it down. I like that idea to be the first page of a great work, but I have to make the time for that project. Today being my day off I rather not do anything, but I think today is a good day to outline that project, if not start it completely. We shall see how THAT goes. I hope itís not another one of those projects that I start and let die on the vine. I hate that about myself.
Also since I last wrote, I went up to Bakersfield to visit my fatherís grave. Here I am sitting beside his grave.
The baby next to me is one of his ďgrandchildren.Ē I put that in quotes because biologically Iím his only child. But, when he moved up to Bakersfield he started a new family with his common-law wife, who had a couple of kids already, and who bore him the grandchildren I never wanted to give him. I might sound wicked, but I canít say Iíve missed him since he passed. If anything the aggravation has become higher because now I canít make excuses to a dead man. When Iím asked to go up there to tie up some loose end I feel obliged to go. Hence this trip, which I did not look forward to, and which I might have to repeat next week. The house he left me has not sold, especially since the market has tanked, and because the house it literally falling apart. I wrote the real estate agent that it might be time to trim the price to something that will guarantee it will sell. I havenít heard from her since then. I honestly would give it away for nothing at this point. I donít want to possess it, despite what everyone says about how itís my fatherís legacy, and how he wanted me to have it. He made some bad choices in life, I know. I absolved him of those pertaining to me on his death-bed because he asked me. But that doesnít erase them. I NEED that house to sell because I want to burn that bridge once and for all, and not have to be obliged to do anything pertaining to that house and my father ever again.
I took a Greyhound bus back home from that trip because I drove the car my father gave me when my old Subaru died in 2006. I was returning the Nissan he gave me because Iím now driving the Joe-Mobile (pictured below).
If you donít remember my buddy Joe passed away at the end of February and his Mother gave him his car. I hated driving the Nissan every moment I was in it. The transmission was all fucked up and only had three gears. It leaked oil and the motor seized up as I drove to visit a friend. My father gave me the cash to repair it, but it even that was a mess. Suffice to say, I didnít need it any more so I returned it to its owner, my fatherís ďstep-daughter.Ē That was the main purpose of the trip, and why I took the bus back.
While waiting at the bus station I went into the cafeteria and took the picture above. I thought about how I have been super lucky in life. The other people at the station should have it so good, I thought. They are the dregs, and near dregs, of humanity. Iím lucky that Iím more of an observer who is slumming it in order to get home because I didnít want to bother a friend asking them for a ride. I mean Iím really lucky, and even though I do bitch about stuff I have it good. Iím working at two jobs that arenít digging a ditch. I have enough money in my pocket to buy myself a good meal and a gadget or two. Not to say that I canít bitch, but Iím happy for these moments where Iím given perspective to appreciate what I have.
So yeah, I can still say ďCram it world,Ē but I have to remember that I do have it good. Thankfully the Universe never lets me forget it.
The Universe is a funny thing, but maybe I should leave THIS line of thinking for another thing, like my project. Which reminds me, I have some things to do today, so Iíll just say... End Communication.