try me

i spent the day waiting for the hiring guy to call me. and i could not, try as i might, get fired. i said- i'll be gone on these days but if i can (i hemmed and hawed)... tried to soften the blow. then i escalated the impact by saying- 5 days. i'll be gone all of these DAYS right before thanksgiving! and still nothing. he, thought about it. i could hear him shrug his shoulders. that optimally i shouldn't be allowed to go but he made every excuse for me- no one else asked for these days off (that's because you're not allowed to, technically they're industry "black out days"... as in no one leaves bcs we need the entire staff working for the holidays kind of thing)... and so that's okay, he explained, it'll be fine...

what?!

so yah... report to work 6am. alright and um, yah, i'll uh, be there. uh.okay.

and i thought about what to do on my last day- as if tomorrow i was going into the army or, i don't know, dying or something... so what i did was go thru my 'life scraps' files, just to solidify the innate feeling, and realized i'd become completely calloused to memories (about a 1 1/2's worth). i ripped out about an inch worth of photos and old papers from existing albums and reluctantly posted photo after photo in my current one. i even caught myself thinking what a waste. i was horrified by my attitude. but it is an unpleasant reflex after spending a couple years with my grandmothers albums, when deducing someones life is a business and trying to figure out what to keep and save and still keep some semblence of them despite your harsh distillation... and then you know- i knew that i didn't want to par it down to nothing... so that there was just a series of random photographs- i think if i ever get back to doing something with the old ones, i will want it to tell a story of sorts... and it seems worth telling. i guess? and then i turned to look at my blog and was so grateful for the random story it seems to be telling- neatly, well-formatted and wonderfully present... and even though i'll die and someone may or may not care i have to say that it's a story worth telling to me- long after i've forgotten. it seems to be so, always after years pass, how much.