Today, in an underground subway passage, a woman said to me, “Excuse me, ma’am, your dress is riding up.”
No one’s ever said that to me! I was grateful that she took the time to say something. I often wonder if I’m the kind of person who takes the time to say things like that to strangers. It can be a difficult thing, I think. There’s no telling how a person will react. It can shameful to hear from a stranger that they can see your underwear, or there’s toilet paper on your shoe, or some foreign matter is on your face. Shame can lead people to react angrily. Even violently. And in New York I’ve learned that it’s wise to avoid angry, violent people.
I myself got angry when the woman told me about my dress. I didn’t get angry at her, though. I got angry at my place of employment because THEY are the ones who issued me the dress I was wearing. Because of THEM I inadvertantly gave strangers a view of my upper thigh area. They don’t pay me enough for that!
Actually, the static cling is mostly my own fault. I don’t use dryer sheets. I can’t afford that luxury right now.
I guess that’s all I wanted to say. Here’s a picture of my uniform:
Do you have 3-5 years of experience baking from scratch AND have the desire to live in Antarctica for 6 months?
Then this is the perfect job for you: http://newyork.craigslist.org/mnh/fbh/2535316239.html
Job listings like that are so exciting to me. You know that somewhere out there, someone is going to see that job posting and say, “Oh my God, this is exactly what I’ve been waiting for. This. is. my. perfect. job. This blends my lifelong dream to live in Antarctica with my lifelong passion for baking from scratch. There is a God and God loves me and flowers and rainbows and kittens that can’t quite open their eyes.”
I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if I didn’t repost that ad in attempt to bring that person and this job together.
Thanks iLike.com for clarifying that. And thanks Lynyrd Skynyrd for these lyrics:
Oh, take your time. Don’t live too fast.
Troubles will come and they will pass.
Go find a woman–you’ll find love.
And don’t forget, son, there is someone up above.
And be a simple kind of man.
Be something you love and understand.
Baby, be a simple kind of man.
Oh, won’t you do this for me, son, if you can?
Forget your lust for the rich man’s gold.
All that you need is in your soul.
And you can do this, oh baby, if you try.
All that I want for you, my son, is to be satisfied.
This song was on my mind today. Mostly because I submitted a two week’s notice for one of my jobs. It felt impulsive and liberating. But really I’ve been thinking about doing it for awhile. I’m only there one day a week for one thing. It doesn’t pay all that well. And it doesn’t challenge or stimulate me in the slightest. (A cubicle is involved.)
So, out with the old, in with the new. Which, is this economy, doesn’t mean much. But fuck it. All I need is in my soul.
Posted in America, Culture, Dreams, economy, Life, music, Thoughts, Whatever
Tagged jobs, lynyrd skynyrd, simple man, soul
I started a blog instead of applying for jobs. I recently left a job at the Library of Congress. Looking for a job in another library or a bookstore or a movie theater or none of the above. In the mean time, I have time on my hands. Case in point: here’s a picture of the inventor of the Dewey Decimal System:
My name is Maribeth. I look like Melvil only slightly more youthful and hairy. I’ll be posting movie reviews, poems, and updates on my job search and hair removal efforts (among other things).
See you in the stacks, G.