In lieu of diary


Dear Internet,

I realize you may not appreciate being treated like my diary back in the days when I signed every entry with “Peace!!” and a smiley face, but I just don’t have anywhere else to turn.

You see, Internet, I didn’t have what you might think of as the best day ever today. In fact, things were pretty darn sucky. It started like any other ordinary average day, a little shower, a little breakfast, a little grimace as I packed my odious Dell into its safe little carrying case to cart off to my internship. What’s that? You want to know where my internship is at? Well, I figured you had the power of your tubes to piece that one together. It’s really inconsequential anyway – giving away my employer may compromise your neutrality, which we all know is in crisis to begin with.

If I could do this, I wouldn’t need an internship at all.

I had a pleasant enough morning walk to the streetcar stop, at which I nabbed a copy of the Portland Tribune (I don’t know if you heard, but I kind of live there now) before taking a very metropolitan ride down to the Pearl. I suppose the morning went all right from there until around 10:15 AM when I took my early lunch to meet with someone at a building across downtown. Since moving to downtown, I have had the delusion that it’s easy to walk anywhere within 10 minutes.

This is simply not the truth, Internet.

I walked just over a mile in my modest mary janes, arriving at my meeting 15 minutes late, 5 blisters richer, and in a mood akin to that of a crocodile in a handbag shop. The meeting was just fine, save for the fairly constant screams of white-hot pain emanating from the soles of my feet. I managed to stagger my way to the streetcar stop afterwards (8 blocks somehow becomes farther at times like these) where I took the shoes off and stood barefoot in anticipation of my ride. One of my comrades in waiting sparked a conversation:

“I wouldn’t be caught dead in nylons on a hot day like today!”
[Inward scowl] “Neither would I, except that I’m headed back to work.”
“Oh, where do you work?”
“[Insert name here]. It’s an accounting firm.”
“Oh, I could never do that! I’m no good at math.”
“Don’t worry, neither am I.”

I have to tell you, Internet, one of these days I’m going to be able to respond to that statement with something in the neighborhood of, “Really? I PWN at everything involving numbers. Too bad you aren’t as savvy as me.” The rest of the afternoon had me feeling like a Catholic in a Morman temple: a lot of looking around and wondering what everything meant coupled with a trepidation that someone could walk in any moment, snatch away my heathen book (or Dell in this case), and tell me I don’t belong there.

At the end of the day, after transporting myself in and out of the elevator by sheer will alone, I rounded the corner to see the streetcar gliding away from me at what appeared to be ludicrous speed. Resigning myself to a spritely walk down to the next station, I was approached by one of the 10,000 Greenpeace volunteers canvassing Portland this summer. I informed him I was already a member, and he told me that today was his last day as a Greenpeace volunteer because there was no way he could raise his $55 more in the next hour. In my mind, I showered him with $55 bills and the rest of the crowd walking the streets of the Pearl started singing “Green Tamborine” while wearing head garlands of daisies. Maybe if I believe hard enough next time, Internet, I can make his dreams come true (and throw in a pair of Birkenstocks while I’m at it).

After being passed by yet another streetcar made of lightening, I finally made it to the next stop, to which the next car wouldn’t be getting to for 12 minutes. Yet another conversation ensued with a fellow rider:

“Long day?”
“Me too.”
“Even longer when you’re doing something you don’t love.”
“Well, I’m not quite sure auditing is my passion.”
“Is that what you do? I’m no good at math.”

You know, Internet, I hope I look back on days like today and can laugh about it. I also hope that Tevas become a requisite part of business casual dress someday very soon.

Peace!! 😛


2 Responses to “In lieu of diary”

  1. 1 Truman

    You could always wear Crocs to work. It’d be a whole new breed of cat call.

  2. 2 Genesis

    What do these people do?

    I mean we know that none of them do math, and hate their jobs and have long days but man…

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