It’s the beginning of my second month at this new job. There are a few things that are unexpectedly wonderful about working downtown. Hot croissants. I would not normally find this wandering the streets of my neighborhood, but downtown it is easily found. There’s a fabulous bakery called Bon Bom or is it Bom Bon...not sure, but it’s on Washington between Wells and LaSalle. If you stop by around 9:30 in the morning, the croissants are just coming out of the oven and are warm and buttery. I love them. I am eating two today. I don’t care about the calories. I expect my computer to read my finger scan as “too buttery” instead of the usual “too fast” or “too short”. Why can’t life be customizable?
The duck eggs were gone today. I wonder which predator got them.
I am slowly adjusting to my little square of space, known as a cubicle, but for the purposes of my life is referred to as my habitat. I believe habitat implies that I might have a running trail or exercise wheel. Something that has space and freedom. Habitat. If I could somehow remove the overhead lights, I would actually be really okay in this space.
4.30.2007
4.25.2007
thoughts escaping
random thoughts that keep escaping. i hope to tie them all up, loose end to loose end. but the ends whip in the breeze and i'm left with strays.
the smell of blommer chocolate factory. it's wrong to be breathing in chocolate heaven and know that you are going to have to enter the sterile office space on the 14th floor. a place with no windows and unending glare reflecting of the fluorescents. it's hard to describe the culture shock i still feel. and when you coat me with chocolate before going in, well, i always want to trace the smell back first.
the way people seem so unhappy. on the trains. in the street. i'm not romanticizing it. this is palpable most days. i don't think people are really aware of themselves. it puzzles me.
the way i talk to my co-workers. i feel like an odd duck (ah those ducks). i speak the language of informality blended with a sincere desire to be honest and kind. it comes out sort of strange sometimes in the environment that we're in. but i can't help myself. i don't know how else to be, nor do i want to.
today i feel small. just getting there. didn't even wander outside today. too cold. too gray. too dismal. all of too much. so i went to the fitness center and walked a slow pace on the treadmill for 30 minutes. reading my book. ah, that's the nice thing about riding on the train. i find my desire to read has increased tenfold. so i'm happy on the train. though i have found it a bit hard to get used the feel of it's rhythms. same way with the building. i'm aware of the floors quivering at times. sounds that are distant and far away. must be the wisps of building manager hanging about me. i hope in some ways that never goes away.
though sometimes i worry that all of the floors are just going to come crashing down. smoosh me. i wonder if other people worry about this too. will i ever get used to this?
the smell of blommer chocolate factory. it's wrong to be breathing in chocolate heaven and know that you are going to have to enter the sterile office space on the 14th floor. a place with no windows and unending glare reflecting of the fluorescents. it's hard to describe the culture shock i still feel. and when you coat me with chocolate before going in, well, i always want to trace the smell back first.
the way people seem so unhappy. on the trains. in the street. i'm not romanticizing it. this is palpable most days. i don't think people are really aware of themselves. it puzzles me.
the way i talk to my co-workers. i feel like an odd duck (ah those ducks). i speak the language of informality blended with a sincere desire to be honest and kind. it comes out sort of strange sometimes in the environment that we're in. but i can't help myself. i don't know how else to be, nor do i want to.
today i feel small. just getting there. didn't even wander outside today. too cold. too gray. too dismal. all of too much. so i went to the fitness center and walked a slow pace on the treadmill for 30 minutes. reading my book. ah, that's the nice thing about riding on the train. i find my desire to read has increased tenfold. so i'm happy on the train. though i have found it a bit hard to get used the feel of it's rhythms. same way with the building. i'm aware of the floors quivering at times. sounds that are distant and far away. must be the wisps of building manager hanging about me. i hope in some ways that never goes away.
though sometimes i worry that all of the floors are just going to come crashing down. smoosh me. i wonder if other people worry about this too. will i ever get used to this?
4.24.2007
washington street bridge
for those of you have never walked around downtown chicago you might not be aware of the way the river winds through. there are bridges that cross the river at every street - madison, washington, randolf - when you're crossing one, you can look at the river's path and see bridge after bridge after bridge. I cross the washington street bridge every day to get to work.
what's different about washington is that the 'sidewalk' is not concrete like the other bridges, but made up of planks of wood. probably not 2x4s but I haven't gotten down on hand and knee to view them from the side. probably much thicker than 2 inches. when the buses roll by all of the boards seem to move individually and yet you can feel the bridge bounce and buck as a whole. odd sensation. along the board walk are little trap doors that I have not tried to open, though I am tempted. but i'm a little afraid to have the bridge drop away and to be standing there on those boards, old boards, been there since the bridge was built boards, and to have that all drop away and be left leaning too close to a gapping hole. I'd most likely fall in as my mind made up hitchcockian vertigo sensations.
I wonder actually if I can open them. they must be locked or dumb people would open them all the time and fall in. now I'm going to have to find a way to check this out. last night as I left work and walked over the bridge, I saw two ducks on a group of pillars. there are these islands of pillars along the way in the river path. these two ducks had laid their egges nestled among the pillars. it was so strange to see these ducks making their home and starting their family on those pillars. three eggs. big eggs. momma duck was pulling wood threads from the pillar and finishing the nest. i'm going to take my camera and try to photograph them today. it's sucky rainy so not sure it is feasible but don't want to miss the chance to photograph the mixture of wild and cultivated together. i mean, how many of us can say we grew up in the shadow of the lyric opera?
what's different about washington is that the 'sidewalk' is not concrete like the other bridges, but made up of planks of wood. probably not 2x4s but I haven't gotten down on hand and knee to view them from the side. probably much thicker than 2 inches. when the buses roll by all of the boards seem to move individually and yet you can feel the bridge bounce and buck as a whole. odd sensation. along the board walk are little trap doors that I have not tried to open, though I am tempted. but i'm a little afraid to have the bridge drop away and to be standing there on those boards, old boards, been there since the bridge was built boards, and to have that all drop away and be left leaning too close to a gapping hole. I'd most likely fall in as my mind made up hitchcockian vertigo sensations.
I wonder actually if I can open them. they must be locked or dumb people would open them all the time and fall in. now I'm going to have to find a way to check this out. last night as I left work and walked over the bridge, I saw two ducks on a group of pillars. there are these islands of pillars along the way in the river path. these two ducks had laid their egges nestled among the pillars. it was so strange to see these ducks making their home and starting their family on those pillars. three eggs. big eggs. momma duck was pulling wood threads from the pillar and finishing the nest. i'm going to take my camera and try to photograph them today. it's sucky rainy so not sure it is feasible but don't want to miss the chance to photograph the mixture of wild and cultivated together. i mean, how many of us can say we grew up in the shadow of the lyric opera?
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