What a way to make a living [2011/06/02]

Yesterday, I told a former quasi-employer of mine that I was working nine-to-five. Her immediate reaction? "Oh god, no. Not yet! Don't do it! You're too young!"

Bear in mind that this is a woman who not only works nine-to-five, but also has a night job because she likes to keep busy. She's in her late twenties, gainfully employed, married... and she still finds it absurd that she goes to bed at 10:30 pm so she can wake up and commute.

I myself have been going to sleep at 11 and waking up at 7, which is really funny, because I don't think I've gone to sleep before midnight since I've been at college. And then, of course, there's the hour-long commute (bus, Metro, Metro) followed by so many hours of work, and then another hour spent in transit before I finally get home, collapse on the couch with my laptop, eat dinner, spend more time on the internet or watching something with my mom, and then go to sleep.

I never really realized how soul-draining a nine-to-five job is until now. Granted, the job itself is fairly spectacular, so I guess it all balances out.

[Under the cut: Positivity, preservation, payment, pictures, and plays! Also other stuff which doesn't begin with p.]


This summer, I'm interning in the Collections Care section of the Library of Congress. It's mostly the same thing I've been doing for the last two years at Wesleyan — books in need of repair come in from the Library collection, and we fix them using various methods. I never really know how to explain it particularly well. Ripped pages, text blocks ripping away from cases, missing spine — we make it better. I personally like to refer to myself as a book superhero.

One day, I may take pictures of some of the work I do and put it in a post. Until then, I will leave you with proof of how cool my coworkers are:

The chemical equation for a bad romance.

I should probably also mention that, thanks to Wesleyan, I'm actually getting paid for this little venture into the world of grown-up responsibility. (The Library of Congress is part of the US government. The US government doesn't pay people if it isn't absolutely and positively necessary.) The Wesleyan Summer Experience grant is open to all students on financial aid; all you have to do is apply and then wait anxiously for them to decide if you're worthy.

One of the great things about working downtown is that during my lunchbreaks, if it's not too obscenely hot, I can walk around and be super-touristy in my own city. I ate lunch in front of the Capitol the other day, and a lot of the government buildings are gorgeous. I may picspam this as well, in a week or so.

The first two weeks of work, I didn't do much other than the the schedule listed above — commute, work, commute, collapse, eat, collapse more. Starting this weekend, though, I've actually been doing stuff, which is kind of astounding. I'm sure I'm going to run out of steam soon and go crawling back to the internet.

First, on Friday, my house lost power, which happens relatively frequently during the summer because of the DC thunderstorms (which are always fantastic) and because I live on the edge of an electrical grid, so if there's any loss of power we're guaranteed to go out. That was actually kind of boring, but I figured I might as well write it down anyway, since I'm starting up a tally of how many times I lose power during this summer. (Twice so far.)

On Sunday, though, my mom and I voyaged out to Rehoboth Beach for the day, where we lounged around enjoying the sunlight and the ocean. I'm from a family that is very intense about their beaching — "we are hardy beach people," as my stepdad puts it — so we got out there at about 10 and stayed on the beach as late as we possibly could.

Monday I had the day off (yay for government holidays!), so I spent it lounging around with my laptop, but yesterday after work I went to the Pay What You Can Night for Woolly Mammoth's new show Bootycandy.

Bootycandy, written and directed by Robert O'Hara

It meant spending two hours waiting for tickets, and then two more hours waiting for the show to start, but it was definitely worth it. It's a hilarious show that's also thoughtful, and I knew the four hours were worth it when I saw the sketch (the show is written in vaguely connected mini-scenes, rather than a structured narrative) where a gospel preacher, scolding the narrow-minded gossipers in his congregation, steps out from behind the podium in a pair of silver high heels.

(The name "bootycandy," by the way, is the word used by the playwright's mother and grandmother to refer to male genitalia.)

Today, I baked — oatmeal honey bread, for sandwiches for my lunch, and donuts for one of my bosses who's leaving after this Friday. The donuts aren't super-donutty, but they look good and they taste good, so I'm counting it as a win. And I remembered to take pictures this time!

Bread on the left, donuts on the right — vanilla-cinnamon glaze for my coworkers who don't like chocolate, and chocolate glaze for those who do