New Nightlight.

Jiving to the raw beats of Aesop once again.

I'm almost sentimental about the breath I'm breathing. I just got the email: confirmed. thank god.

I will never be less than this raw energetic and cerebral man.

Today I sat back for 3 hours as the people around me talked about things. The man across from me was a taoist and next to me was the fundamentalist. I told him what I know. Speaking felt good. Silence was great.

There are reasons why idealists and intellectuals congregate. Connecting is beautiful and complicated. It takes a submission of your usual guards and tropes. You're used to defending yourself or flexing what you know...at least if you're a "good" student ready to smash the world. However, it's hard for a lot of people to barrel down that impulse to express your passion and really ask what people are feeling and thinking. I've come a long way.

I learned football.

Things that I had no desire to acknowledge have come to a head here. In the grind there's hopelessness. Distractions rule. Over weeks I found myself not talking about anything but the sorry browns and the entertaining Tim Tebow and his QB runs. A real throwback.

I don't think of this as "connecting with common people" as I thought that it would be when I first carved out this time in my life. It's life. I am a human and this happened to me. Just like everyone else I walk in and punch the clock. Right now I'm living the struggle.

Just like everyone else I find myself clinging to dreams. Just like all the other temps I think it's just a phase. Time showed me that it is permanent. Gradually I slid into the moment of nothing and then I'd come back and think of the past.

Tonight I really realized that there is no "me and them" it's "us." I don't need a lot of words to show this. I hate the buzzer, love the breaks, enjoy the occasional free lunches, and fear the supervisor when I'm behind my quota. It's life. Fighting for food.

This fusion of perspective makes a dream that much more beautiful. I don't really know if what's going on right now is temporary. I will be dumbfounded if I get to Spain with my sax, books, and students.

Where did you come from?

Today a young fundamentalist folding papers next to me looked at me, smiling, and said "this is your life?" After a brief discussion about seizing the moment this came unexpected. I found myself defiant and defensive. "No, I'm just here for a bit. Passing through."

Right now I'm listening to Heartbeats.

The consulate called today. It was after a day that scooped the bottom of my patience and carved deep into my mind the feelings of having a meaningless grind for work.

Mystical tones and upbeat, whimsical lyrics grip me and haul me back to a not-so-long ago moment where it was different.

My boss is confident when I'm in the kitchen. He sat outside while I trayed and ran most of the food. I wiped down the plates diligently. Gray eyed. I served food and seized sides demanding "is this with the walleye? Are the seabass coming? Where's my side of fries?"

At the factory they've been mentioning my name for hire-in and saying "you're basically a part of the furniture now." It was one thing in my life to say "this is how you do it!" but now I realize what it feels like to live in it. You are commodified by everyone. How many years do you have? What are you capable of physically? What does your mentality allow you to endure? Alright, now put this in a box, run that food, and know your place.

People fight over scraps. A small conversation is permissible...barely. Temps are flowing in and out of the place to the displeasure of the frequently overweight female supervisors. Their jowls jiggle as they reprimand you for not going fast enough. You know that the real problem is that they make $9 per hour and have no hope. The kid, younger than you, across from you keeps hitting on a grandma just to pass the time.

Your fingers are black from folding an advertisement for 6 hours. Your feet hurt from standing. Thoughts and theories get duller as your sole stimulus is the dull drone of tow motors filing up and down large warehouse aisles.

Everyone is asking why you're here. They want to know your mistakes. The supervisor on the second floor is a middle aged black woman with short hair. She likes your tenacity but wonders if you're OK with being totally expendable to the company.

The professor is coming tomorrow to check on me at lunch.

I can't help but see this part of my life as already past. There are great moments with my sisters and the contrast is stark.

The Indian student gave me a little bit of entertainment as I taught her chemistry for a little while. She's too bright eyed and spoiled to be a companion though. No, you have to do your own work...I can't do it for you.

The call came today from the Spanish consulate. No message. I am nervous about it in a way. It's like I've gotten comfortable being a grunt without responsibility or hope. I will call tomorrow.

Capturing the Moment

Today we boxed fireplaces. 165 light oak, 5 cherry, 10 dark oak, 8 black. Chris and Mike did insert units and Pam boxed. Keith didn't pull me for orders, which was good. I got a lot done compared to most days.

Keith and Jeff almost never do work until Laura comes back. It still blows my mind that she manages so badly. Most of the time I meet quota until she pulls one of my guys to do something else. It's OK though. I write it off as a bad job. It's just temporary.

I've been saying that for two months.

What I hate is being yelled at or shot down for doing my job at a reasonable rate.

The restaurant was dead. Unfortunately Jen and Kayla were working too. I ran a lot of food but only had to bus half the tables.

I think I lost my chem student. She brought me a lab to do but had no data. I explained the lab to her for a half hour and charged her for a half hour. It's typical for students to want a direct answer when it's impossible.

I keep getting emails from medical schools asking for a doctor's recommendation. That's what everything is hinging upon at the moment. One piece of paper from a physician saying that I'm a good person. Such foul flaming hoops to jump through.

Recently I have been dancing. The foxtrot is the most fun so far. I don't like samba; it's too quirky.

Dance and personality go hand in hand. For me...the perfect dance is fast, calculated, sexy, and driven. I would be in control of her but not myself. I think that's Jazz... Poise is appealing too.

Sharon likes samba.

Sharon's a great girl. Again, there's a difference in age but we're taking things one day at a time. Anything quicker than that seems to be too much.

In addition to working extensively I am also volunteering and helping out with things around the house. Sunday football and reading. I'm studying biochemistry and biofuels. Along with this I'm doing some psychology reading about male/female communication in long term relationships.

Right now I'm frustrated with the stagnation. I'm seeing a girl who has been here for 15 years and is panicking about everything not going anywhere. She has no respect, no input, and no identity here.

I don't want that.

At the same time I see this as a time in my life that I should take in. There are too many people at the restaurant with perfect cookie-cutter lives who have never worked like this. I see my generation equivalent of the super-rich kids having kids and wonder if I'm getting something out of it.

Every day is a struggle of perspective. I no longer think I'm "stuck here" but I think "I am being here." I will breathe in Madrid in the coming month. I will see when I get to medical school. Breathing and seeing are unimportant. The translation of what comes out...is important.

What I do with this is impossible to say.

It is odd to watch right now. Everybody but me has their teeth sunk in to graduate school, jobs, relationships, plans. People ask, in a careless manner, "what are you doing?" I can't answer them quickly. Right now I'm a factory worker. That's all that's important...I guess.