"How's your new job?"
Letter to my cousin, February 1st, 2010

HI!! It's been a while since I've talked to you.

My job is okay. In terms of practical matters, the hours are very good, and the office is in an old townhouse, so it feels cozy and not officey at all. There are six people, so it's not huge. I'm glad to have a job in general, which keeps me from dying of boredom, and my parents are happy for me. We can finally eat dinner and have a conversation like normal human beings, instead of it being an interrogation: "When are you getting a job?"..."Have you thought about asking at..?" "I know a certain person who says they could introduce you to...." "Well, X's daughter went to school for Y and now is doing Z..."

When I was in college, I was asked, "Are you getting a job for the summer?" and in high school it was, "Have you applied for college?" and in middle school it was, "Have you done your homework?" and in elementary school, it was, "Stop making so much noise, your mother is tired." So not to be told to do something, which has never occurred for as long as I can remember, is pleasant for a change.

It's nice to make my own money, too. Even though life is less fun, maybe Big Aunt can retire in the next century. Maybe I can buy a house, get married.... In the United States, everybody who is somebody "gets a house." It's part of that same vague, universal dream everybody has for their future. Everyone has the same dream, of a big house with a car and a tree, a nice kitchen for Sunday breakfasts and family dinners... etc. I daydream about it, but now it's a little closer to reality. It's frightening. It seems slightly unreal to me too, so I am taking it day by day, and setting small weekly goals. Last night, when I was lying in bed, in the twilight between wakefulness and sleep, it felt like I had dreamt up the last month, and it was actually Christmastime (there was snow on the ground, which created that feeling), and any minute I'd be waking up and opening my presents.

It's encouraging to be able to have some money to spend. I can donate to charity without having to feel like I'm begging my parents for it. I gave some money to the earthquake relief in Haiti, and that made me genuinely happier than spending it on myself. I go to concerts and shows now. It makes me feel like I'm a "patron of the arts," which was an aspiration of mine as a teenager. When I was young, I always pictured myself as one of those elegant, cultured, and beautiful people. Actually, I've discovered nowadays that only senior citizens and retirees generally go to those things. Oh well. Now as an adult, I'm enjoying myself, but I wonder if I wouldn't be just as happy with less going out, but more free time. It makes me a little fatalistic, like... "I never chose to grow up, it just kind of happened to me. What makes me happy hasn't changed, only the sort of things I'm expected to do about it."

At work, I'm to be helping people prepare their taxes, which in the U.S. are due April 15. That adds to the nature of the place where it feels more like I'm preparing for war. The hours are slowly getting longer and the work is beginning to pile up. (There's a saying that to cook a frog, you stick it in a pot of cold water and slowly warm the water up bit by bit, whereas if you try to throw it in hot water immediately, it hops out. I feel like the cold water frog.) I get the feeling that no matter how fast I learn, I'm not learning fast enough. I'm trying to not let that get to me. I can only do what I can and nothing more.

Another result of this seasonal nature is that I still perceive time like a student. I feel that these next few months are simply yet another semester, and that I'll be cramming for "finals." That's not the case, of course, but I try not to think too hard about the future. If I start to think about things like "am I going to do this for the rest of my life?" and "will this make me happy?" and "is this all there is to life?" then it gets a little overwhelming. I'm looking forward to Lent, actually. It seems like it will bring unifying purpose to my worries.

I had a dream about being in Hong Kong with you and Ming Tak and my Aunt. We were taking the cable car up the side of some green, forested mountains, and there was a garden filled with pavilions, small temples, pathways, and small arched bridges, all of gray polished stone. I asked about it, and somebody said, "Oh, it looks very old, but this place was built only a few years ago," and that's why I'd never been there. Even so, I thought it was quite a pleasant place.

That is what is happening to me. Sorry if it is long. I've been out of practice with writing letters.

Love,
Angie! (xiao bao: small bun)

So! What Have I Been Doing Over The Summer?

-Saw Pericles by Shakespeare Theatre Company. Once upon a time a girl sat down to watch an enchanted play, where glitter fell from the sky and Diana walked on billowing waves.

-Won tickets for Love's Labor Lost, Shakespeare Theatre. It's like Shakespeare: The Band. Which is not a bad idea. I am so glad I didn't live in the seventies, because man I would've embarrassed myself.

-Karissa got married! ... How is it that jeans-and-t-shirt turns into gossamer, satin, froth and veils, or dorm room hair to a lady's coif? Is it the same person? People I know are getting married, and I'm starting to feel, if not old, then, adult.

-My first job! I've been the phone and office monkey for Baltimore City Council at City Hall and discovering the inefficiencies and meaningless tedium of government employment, how pretty I look in a skirt, the Baltimore-UMBC bus route, the beauty of neo-Baroque municipal architecture, how to answer phones with powerless diplomacy, outdoor cafes, the old character of a city, new buildings built on top of and around old ones, the chugging diesel motor of the water taxi and the water rolling like a molten metal sheet and the skyline in a golden haze hanging on the horizon, and, after spiralling interminably up a stone gothic staircase, a clear sunny view of Baltimore from a belltower on a gold-capped dome.

-Baseball. Air conditioned baseball, in a box. Hotdogs. Beer. Bad beer. Government work has its perks. I could get used to this. The getting sick at a bar in Fells Point, though, is an exception. NO MORE FUCKING NATTY-BOH.

-Re: above ... I have discovered that I don't like beer. Not even Trappist beer. Belgian monks may find God through beer. As for me, in this respect I remain an atheist.

-Got my driver's license.

-Dieting

-Beat Final Fantasy I, am now working on Final Fantasy II and Tales of Phantasia. Go emulators!

-Reading: La Chanson de Roland, The Complete Odes and Epodes of Horace, Prince Valiant: Volume 1, and the Crown of Stars .. uh... septilogy.. or trying to.. MAN I'm a nerd!

-Writing poorly written surrealist short stories

-Playing the violin and butchering Eine kleine Nachtmusik.

So! What's going on with me?

I'm being a research assistant for my econ prof

(Props to Dr. Mitch!)

What I'm doing is I'm cross-referencing 19th century marriage records to the 1851 census in Britain, to see if whether adult literacy rate (as determined by whether people sign their marriage license or just X it) matches up with their childhood educational backrounds.

So.. uh.. lots of Excel database stuff, really. And entertaining facets of 19th century life.

I don't think "farmer's widowed pauper" or "spoon polisher" or "pearl button cutter" really flies on resumes anymore. Or "gentleman."

This one time I was reading the job description for this guy, who described himself as a 'inge filer.' I was really confused until I read the other records, in which his son described the filer as being a locksmith.

Apparently he's a hinge filer.

Fuckin' Cockney!