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Dec. 4th, 2007 08:53 amYesterday when I spoke with the super who was repairing our leaky wall, he said he would come back at three today to do the rest of the repairs. So it's a little odd that he showed up at 7:45 this morning.
Still, R is apparently not home and I was awake, so it's six of one to half dozen of the other. Except that I have to leave at 9:30 to go to work, I suppose, which means leaving this guy alone in our apartment. Not that I think he'll try to steal our stuff or anything, but it's never nice to have a stranger alone in your home.
Today is a "staff day" which means that all the staff get together and work on a single project. I think it's a trifle idiotic, but I'm willing to give it a shot. We're going out to hand out flyers for the theatre, which means no internet and no privacy to answer telephone calls from ten am to five pm. I'm not so happy about this. Still, it's not like I can call in sick. Not if I want to keep my Dramaturgical Apprenticeship! :D
Last night I made a note to write about the "impetus to blog" as I put it in my phone's memo-book. When I was a teenager I tried keeping a journal on the suggestion of my mother and therapist, but it was so terrifically tedious and seemed so pointless to me that I never got very far. For quite a long time at school I logged my life as a series of bits of paper pasted into a blank notebook -- reciepts for dinner dates I'd had, quotes from magazines, that kind of thing. They're wonderful records, but there's not much text to go with them.
Initially, the reason LiveJournal worked for me as a textual journal was that I was getting instant gratification -- other people were reading what I thought and commenting on it, and thus keeping a journal became about a means of communicating with my world. Now, whether or not it continues to be so (and it does, of course, especially with the Cafe grown to what it is), the process of keeping a journal for the past few years has ingrained in me the urge to document my life. On the bus ride home yesterday I was slowly listing off all the things I wanted to write about and of course realising that I had no idea when I'd be able to write about them. The process of distilling my life down to things I can explain and expound upon has become so habitual that I actually could keep a private journal now, even knowing nobody but myself would read it. It becomes habitual, figuring out how to tell this story well or how to put that emotion into words.
Anyway, I should say more about it but I've got to shut all my stuff down now and run off and get a shower. See you all this evening, unless I write a Letter to LJ from the great wide world.
Still, R is apparently not home and I was awake, so it's six of one to half dozen of the other. Except that I have to leave at 9:30 to go to work, I suppose, which means leaving this guy alone in our apartment. Not that I think he'll try to steal our stuff or anything, but it's never nice to have a stranger alone in your home.
Today is a "staff day" which means that all the staff get together and work on a single project. I think it's a trifle idiotic, but I'm willing to give it a shot. We're going out to hand out flyers for the theatre, which means no internet and no privacy to answer telephone calls from ten am to five pm. I'm not so happy about this. Still, it's not like I can call in sick. Not if I want to keep my Dramaturgical Apprenticeship! :D
Last night I made a note to write about the "impetus to blog" as I put it in my phone's memo-book. When I was a teenager I tried keeping a journal on the suggestion of my mother and therapist, but it was so terrifically tedious and seemed so pointless to me that I never got very far. For quite a long time at school I logged my life as a series of bits of paper pasted into a blank notebook -- reciepts for dinner dates I'd had, quotes from magazines, that kind of thing. They're wonderful records, but there's not much text to go with them.
Initially, the reason LiveJournal worked for me as a textual journal was that I was getting instant gratification -- other people were reading what I thought and commenting on it, and thus keeping a journal became about a means of communicating with my world. Now, whether or not it continues to be so (and it does, of course, especially with the Cafe grown to what it is), the process of keeping a journal for the past few years has ingrained in me the urge to document my life. On the bus ride home yesterday I was slowly listing off all the things I wanted to write about and of course realising that I had no idea when I'd be able to write about them. The process of distilling my life down to things I can explain and expound upon has become so habitual that I actually could keep a private journal now, even knowing nobody but myself would read it. It becomes habitual, figuring out how to tell this story well or how to put that emotion into words.
Anyway, I should say more about it but I've got to shut all my stuff down now and run off and get a shower. See you all this evening, unless I write a Letter to LJ from the great wide world.
