I think next week I'm halfway through the first quarter. It's weird: in the morning, I'm in a CNC shop with a giant Kinder Morgan banner in the corner. In the afternoon I'm at a bizarre community college art school where every week brings a new hectoring public awareness campaign informing me that I'm a rapist and a murderer because I'm a straight white male. I get it: if you're a GBLT teen chances are you've been harassed at some point in your life. But get this: there are few more welcoming places than an art school community college in North Seattle and when you get out into the world, those Kinder Morgan guys haven't seen your awareness campaign. And those of us in the middle are weary of being told we're the problem by both sides. I'm doing what I can to bridge the gap. My first jewelry project was an IATSE symbol rendered in nickel silver. My second is a broach comprised of an engine-turned pen, a Starrett 795-XFL2 digital caliper and an ETA2824 (it's supposed to be a "self-portrait"). Our silver solder exercise was supposed to be a tube to a plate, a pin back, and a brazed wire to a plate. I got carried away and made a KH-11. My project watch has now been apart and together four times. It's been through three mainsprings. I got it back together and ticking last night and the sound and silence washed over me like a warm, purifying rain. It does not yet tell time accurately. But it will. That was in doubt last week. Tuesdays are hard. I start at 7am then drive 15 miles at noon and work until 4pm. Then I pick up the kid make dinner and leave at 6 to work on watches until 9:30. Minus two hours for meals and driving I'm going solid from 6am until 9:30pm. But they're not as hard as Mondays and Wednesdays because I hate my art teacher SO MUCH. I realized Monday that I have an easier time listening to her if I imagine the Hypnotoad blasting in the background. Unfortunately nobody sells hypnotoad patches. I would put this on my bag so quick.
Sometimes with particularly aggravating coworkers I tell myself, “maybe they are on pain medication.” No reason for it, other than the seeming stupidity, density and aggravation. Surprisingly, though, I find it helps to imagine my coworkers are idiots because they’re illicitly drugged to the gills and I just don’t realize it - as opposed to believing that no, sober, they are just like this. I say try it with Prof Hypnotoad, why not? It can’t hurt either way any way. Maybe she IS on massive amounts of drugs. Who are any of us to know any better, anyway? I woke up at 4 am and couldn’t get back to sleep so now I’m out $150 but match.com is gonna find me the love of my life , so... I’m gonna try to get some more sleep before my 10 am meeting.
She's totally on pain medication. I can give you her life story - she's an oversharer. She went to school in Seattle then moved out to NYC to be bohemian. She ended up dating a guy who ran a letterpress and sold one of her expressionist pencil drawings to "the most important collector of sketches in the world." While there, "her work was reviewed in the New York Times." Then she came down with "an illness that messes with my balance and fine motor control", got dumped by her boyfriend and came back to teach at community college. Sucks, I know. But that doesn't mean she doesn't have to interrogate me as to why I'm drawing feint lines with one pencil and then going over them in another only to say "that's okay, we'll deprogram you" and then command the entire class to do exactly that the next day. Doesn't mean she needs to unload on some poor 50-year-old Japanese divorcee for not understanding by clapping her hands and announcing "now listen I was reviewed in the New York Times and you're all lucky to have me so when I say listen, LISTEN!" Doesn't mean she has a reason to give us all life lessons for half an hour before we can start. Doesn't mean she can put stuff out for us to draw, then move it all fifteen minutes later because she's decided "the light is better this way." I can feel sorry for her. But I can also acknowledge she doesn't need to be such a bitch.
I just find it hard to work with people the way I need to when I'm also like "you're a fucking bitch," you know? So it helps me to imagine it's incompetence. or drugs. like, it is very hard for me to be nice to people if i believe they are deliberately being, shall we say, "fuckin' idiots." and at work, i gotta be nice. and i gotta convince these people to work with me, day in and day out. hence the pain medication but i bitch about 'em to other people all i like, of course i resonate deeply with some lines of kanye west's hit single "runaway" which isn't a plug post even tho it sound like it do
someone asked me if knew how playstation accounts worked today like i mean in a patronizing tone of voice so that he could explain it to me i said " uh - uh - st- we - uh - well - yes, you know, i'm always willing to hear another perspective and learn whether we have the same idea about things, yes, so i'd love to hear more if you are offering it" i keep thinking about this moment