07 June 2000
Ow. I have a million little surface cuts on my right index finger, none even deep enough to bleed, but they sting every time I get my finger too wet, too hot, too cold, etc. Today was filled with total drudge work in the admissions office: folding hundreds of surveys for a mailing in the morning (the cuts are from running my finger over the fold to crease it), stuffing envelopes with said surveys, and stuffing yet another mailing. My butt only left my spiffy pneumatic wheeled office chair for lunch and a few bathroom/sanity breaks.
Despite the stasis and repetition, it was actually a pretty fun day at work; I had the company of the other "summer kids" the whole time (excepting, mercifully, the one who drives me insane). We have a good time when we're together, talking about everything from ourselves and our backgrounds to campus politics. It still feels like summer camp, but I get paid (good!), don't have to go outside (often good!), and perform repetitive proletarian tasks (not so good!). We actually mentioned Marx in a conversation about our job today, talking about how detached we are from the product of our labor. I think there is some kind of rule (or curse?) that a group of six Macalester students must make reference to Marx after spending a certain period of time together.
The same rule holds for Foucault, but I think we fit him in on day one or two.
Outside of work, I haven't been doing much for the past few days. I've started sleeping like a normal (read: adult with job) person, from 11pm to 7am. Before work I'm consumed with getting myself out the door, after work I make dinner, watch Friends (guilty pleasure), and then alternate between reading and messing around online. After a full day of work, I've been too tired to focus my energies enough to write an entry; that is starting to change as I get used to waking up at the ass-crack of dawn.
For the past week, the only two housemates who have been around are Emre and Patrick. They both have jobs waiting tables, which means that "around" is a more relative term, as my schedule is virtually opposite theirs: When I wake up, the house is silent. The other day I came home for lunch at 12:30 to find the two of them, still in their pajamas, sacked out on the couches watching a movie. Jealous? Me? Never. Actually, by the time 5pm rolls around, they are the ones who should be jealous-- usually they are both leaving for work just as I come home. I go to bed right around the time they come home for the night. Thus completes the cycle; I see them, on average, for about an hour a day. It's actually getting a little lonely, but Colin is coming back from Oregon tomorrow, and his schedule is more similar to mine.
Crack-ice cream o' the day: I told you I was hooked. Anyway, I went to SA with a nice pint of Ben and Jerry's Phish Food in mind. Chocolate, marshmallow, caramel, and more chocolate happen to be my four favorite things. Sadly, they were out of it, so I settled for Edy's Dreamery Caramel Toffee Something Heaven. As it turned out, "settled" was definitely the WRONG word. As a matter of fact, I'm seriously fighting back the urge to eat the whole pint right now. Caramel ice cream with swirls of caramel and chunks of Heath bar strewn liberally throughout. Yum. I keep on sneaking away to the freezer for stealthy spoonfuls. It's amazing.