Happy Accidents - I find that I’m becoming more and more aware of happy accidents. They occur in so many different ways and in so many different mediums. In music it occurs a lot with instruments as well as vocals. Sometimes these accidents occur in photography. I would consider this picture of Georgia a “happy accident”. It’s the one picture where I can plainly see Georgia when she’s 16 years old. There’s one like this of PJ too somewhere in the archive.
“Whippy” – Laura’s nickname for Georgia, its short for “Whippersnapper”. Funny how she develops a nickname then decides to shorten it…she may shorten it again to just “Whip”
Scream Therapy – Georgia has developed an interesting form of communication as of late. Inspired by some of the greats, Neanderthal Man, Cro-Magnon man, Australopithecus, and Alley Oop, she has opted to communicate which this quasi-barbaric “aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh”. She constantly points to something and says “aaaggghhhhhhh”. With that said she has about five or six different sounds to coincide with what she wants to communicate. She has a questioning “uuuuugghhhhh??” and a defiant “I don’t want to do that” “aaaaahhhhhhh!”. Her noises also remind me of that famous pterodactyl Rodan as it pounces on Godzilla’s back shouting angrily “Give me some orange juice!”
The Executive Branch – this new position I took with the county is quite a transition for me. People keep asking me what the job is like and my immediate answer is that the work is very “Executive”. The next question I get is “what does that mean?” which is a good question and something I hadn’t thought about until I was repeatedly asked that question. I use the word with a negative connotation to it. Executive refers to the lack of any hands-on operational work and to more of a political, policy-driven, theoretical work. Legislative analysis, policy writing and adherence, reports to the Board of Supervisors, resolution of County vs. City matters, and the such. Laura’s worried that I’m not happy now because I’m not walking through the front door at 5:15 with a couple of poms poms leading the cheer about my change in employment…Gimme a ‘C’, gimme a ‘E’, gimme an ‘O’….what’s the spell? Hot air blown thru a pie hole attached to a torso immersed in formal attire. But heck, what do I know - I’ve only been here a week. But I can't complain...it's just work right?? A means of earning enough $$ for the family. But still, I keep thinking that somewhere out there is the perfect job for me; something that challenges me, provokes me to learn something new, requires some creativity, lets me employ the absolute beauty of Excel(I know that sounds geeky), and all the while makes me useful to some higher body(upper management).
Formal attire to me:
-is a further tightening of the “Orwellian Knot”
-one big façade – If I dress up as baseball player does that mean I can hit a curveball?
-is a pain in the neck when I have to play this color-coordination game every morning and finally give up and ask Laura her opinion
-marks the first time I’ve been excited about Laura’s shopping because all the clothes are for me...finally!!
-isn’t so bad, at least Laura thinks I’m attractive in my attire
No comments:
Post a Comment