I'll get you a copy of that memo; or, BS's long-standing affair with office supplies

It's nice to know that, if this music thing doesn't work out, or if it at some point becomes something which no longer makes me happy, I have a promising and enjoyable career option in office work. Because I've been temping for a nonprofit this week, and, you guys, the love for alphabetizing which emerged when, as an eight-year-old, I categorized and alphabetized my parents' VHS collection (and then alphabetized the categories), has not diminished with age. As a temp, I have basically been given free run of the office supplies, so since Monday I have been merrily filing invoices and collating documents and making piles and putting sticky notes on things.

The four or so of you reading this, I'm sure, are probably thinking, "God, what an unrepentant dweeb this BS character is. Who actually looks forward to arranging things in alphabetical order?" Answer: I do. Also, sticky notes are the best.

In all seriousness, though, the best part of finally being assigned to a temp position is that I feel less like a useless drain on society and more like a Competent Grown-Up Human Being who pays bills! and wears trousers! and goes on coffee runs while her superiors are in meetings! One day I did wear a skirt to work, but after a particularly harrowing lunchtime venture to the staffing agency to drop off my tax documents in which the wind repeatedly blew my skirt up above my knees and I traversed the sidewalks of the Chicago Loop clutching at its hem like Paranoid Marilyn Monroe, I thought better of that decision and went back to slacks the next day.

It has been nice this week having some occupation to take my mind off things going on in the rest of the country, which, frankly, terrify and confuse me. On Wednesday night I sat wrapped in a blanket watching the DemocracyNow live broadcast of the nonviolent demonstration against the execution of Troy Davis (the link, as if any of you were unaware of the case after its coverage this week), wondering exactly when we as a country began executing prisoners whose guilt could not be proven beyond a reasonable doubt--and before the question is asked, yes, I am aware that a second man was executed that same night in Texas, but although I believe that the death penalty is heinous and immoral no matter what crime it punishes, I cannot find myself feeling upset over the death of a man who confessed to a hate crime and, just prior to his death, admitted that he would do it all again if given the chance. I have also been, in my spare moments, following the protest on Wall Street, of which I have seen almost no media coverage, which surprises me, given the extreme importance of its message: that it is wrong for the government to grant tax breaks to the richest 1% of Americans while offering no such amnesty to those living at or below the poverty line. Sometimes I check the status of bills which would affect educators in my home state (including my parents and sister) on the Michigan Educator's Association website, but mostly that breaks my heart. I am ignoring the Republican Presidential Debates as much as is possible in a 24-hour-TV-news culture, and not just because I burst into hysterical giggles whenever anyone says "Santorum" (if you don't understand why that name brings out my inner thirteen-year-old boy, and if you have a strong stomach, Google it).

The world is disappointing, I'm realizing a little bit more every day. Is this what growing up means? As we get older, do we just gradually accept that the world isn't as shiny or logical as we thought it was? And my response to this overwhelming sense of disappointment is, I'm finding, to find joy in small things: sticky notes, opinionated kittens, pretending to be a secret agent, pluots, fingerless mittens.

Promise I'm not dead; or, This is mostly a list

I rode the Red Line back north from rehearsal tonight before taking a cab the rest of the way home and had a nice chat with one of the Boheme chorus baritones--I was telling him about how I spend so much time alone, and how for a couple of weeks I was insanely productive, baking bread and cleaning all the things and basically being very housewifely for someone who is neither married nor planning to be, but at some point I was just bored with no one to share ideas with.

Anyway, here are a few unremarkable things that have happened to me since I last wrote anything here:

1. I have knitted two pairs of fingerless mittens and started on a third, which are pink. Pink.
2. As an experiment, I tried Greek yogurt with honey, because I wanted to know what all the fuss is about. And the verdict is: acceptable. It certainly breaks up the monotony of a diet composed primarily of granola and prunes. I am an old woman at 25.
3. I have gotten my roommate addicted to Doctor Who. I started her on the first episode of the fifth series, and she likes Matt Smith. The Weeping Angels episodes gave her a nightmare, which means she is human. In related news, I have cried watching the two most recent episodes of Doctor Who.
4. The Tigers clinched the AL Central Division. I bought two bottles of wine, because it is going to be a long postseason.
5. My mother visited me today--yesterday? Saturday--and took me grocery shopping, because I am, if not destitute, then at least underemployed. At the deli counter, I asked for provolone and the man working there asked me how I wanted it sliced. I was very confused. Um, with something sharp? Into slices? Then he clarified that he was referring to the thickness of the slices. I have never been asked that question at a deli before. It made my whole day feel surreal.
6. While my mother was here, we ate lunch at a diner in Boystown, where we were served by a very friendly waiter who showed me his tattoos (I was impressed) and gave me Halloween costume advice (I was grateful).
7. I spend a lot of time reading in the Starbucks near my apartment because it is one alternative to sitting in my apartment all day watching trashy reality TV. Recently, a barista's name and phone number were written on the side of my cup--I don't even know, I'm pretty sure it was a prank played on the owner of said cell phone. I sent a text to the number pretending to be an undercover CIA agent, because I am a Grown Up and that is what I do when I receive an unsolicited phone number. If anybody knows what "The mongoose has left the henhouse" means, there is probably something very wrong with you, because I made it up.
8. I have never seen a mongoose, or even a picture of one. I only know they exist because of a 1980s cartoon adaptation of Rikki-Tikki Tavi my family had on VHS when I was a kid.

That's all for now, I think. It's almost 4:30 a.m. now, so clearly I can't be bothered with being witty. I just wanted to put it out there: "I am alive! I am not dead! I hope life gets easier soon!"