tommyrot

Remember how I write parking tickets for my job? And how sometimes I contemplate doing weird jobs like that my whole life? And how sometimes I admit it's for this very reason. It sounds like a lot of what I've been doing lately. Homemade crap? Yeah.

letters for all of you! kind of. not in the mail though. just right here.

Dear friends and family and maybe a stranger or two,


I like my job. Even when my job is standing in a parking lot at 7:15 in the morning watching the sun rise and stomping my boots to stave off the 6˚ F weather. Because we went from weeks of 47˚ to this week where 27˚ is the high. Also, I'm really excited I figured out how to make the degree symbol ˚ ˚ ˚ ˚ ˚ or if you're french the ciècle symbol ˚ ˚ ˚ ˚ also this guy: •••••• Really fun and aesthetically useful. So I hope they show up correctly on your computer, otherwise have fun with those WingDings!
•
See, I know what needs to be done and I know I'm useful when I'm hauling pylons in a tiny pick up truck that has no sound system. Where the tape deck or radio would be there's a piece of tape on the dash that says, "Please hum." And it's just nice to greet people when I'm the gate keeper. The gate being a road block that I drag open and shut.
˚•˚
This is a relief from academia where I'm always wondering, Did I just make that up? Everybody knows [insert an exciting conclusion I have just arrived at] already, don't they. or Why is this article so convoluted?!? What's wrong with engaging your readers? Why do they hate people? It's OK, nobody's going to bully you for being a nerd anymore.
•˚•
I have begun investing money into serious winter gear which makes me feel like I should only apply to grad schools where intense winter boots and long johns will be useful. Luckily my top picks are in Canada.


∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

always (are you catching that?)
M


P.S. I'm working on my emailing strangers skills.

the rocks in this schoolhouse

School of Me takes place everyday even if I try to stay home/away sick. It's inescapable.


Everyday there are lessons in Observing Tree Branches Against The Sky, How To Walk To Avoid Getting Gravel In Your Shoes, and Seeing Fat Squirrels Out Of The Corner Of Your Eye. A treat in the School of Me is when I get a lesson on Hearing The Honking Of Migrating Geese.


I regularly learn about how to be more suspicious of politics from Democracy Now!, the intersection of science and life (that's redundant) from RadioLab, there's a survey of literature with All Books Considered, there's Remember How You're A Nerd And NPR Makes You Laugh Out Loud To Yourself/Music from All Songs Considered (might I recommend the episode The 90s are back, or whatever?).

photo curtesy of this person. (that's Kurt Cobain with a cat, or whatever)

And don't worry. Just like "real" school, there are still school crushes. Like this guy and this guy.

things that make me laugh

“the chances that Rimbaud will become the bible of your life are inversely proportional to the age at which you first discover him.”
-Daniel Mendelsohn–as quoted in "When you're strange: Should we consider Jim Morrison, rock's Bozo Dionysus, a real poet?" by Daniel Nester, an essay on poetryfoundation.org.


update: WAIT A SECOND, wouldn't David Bowie be the Dionysus of rock? After discussion with my sister we have decided: Mick Jagger is Dionysus and Bowie is Hermaphrodite. I mean Aphrodite. But that's not quite right either. Who's the Greek god of enjoying a good dramatic lip-sync? Would't Queen be Aphrodite? He's really looking for somebody to love, and check him in that white jumper!

What's really awkward is when you're peering through the windshield of a car in the shade and you start to realize there's a person in there looking back at you. This isn't a napping person–which you will find fairly regularly as a parking person at this college campus–this is an alert person staring back at you. "Ha, ha...Oh, hi" you'll say–as if they can hear you–you'll give a small wave of your hand and move on. 

I spent my morning in a parking lot, how bout you?

The campus I work at is smoke-free, which means that everyone has their smoke breaks in parking lots and alleys. I mostly find this funny, I mean, what do you mean campus is smoke-free? If the lots and the alleys aren't campus then all you have left are the buildings and one grassy quad. I don't give tickets for cigs, though, so this just gives me an audience, added incentive to put a little strut in my step and flourish in my windshield wiper release.

Here I will admit to something: I have always been intellectually ambitious. From a young age (four) I have admired people with multiple doctorates. I don't need to be acknowledged as the smartest kid in the class (because I rarely am) and I don't need to do G R E A T things and win noble prizes (I meant that). I've been thinking lately that I'd really like to be like the letter p in pterodactyl. The p is silent but in on all the action. I want to be silent p (I meant that).

So I've started my own brain growing school with several courses. Someday I'll tell you about my school of one. That's my cop out for not boring you now. You can thank me later/now/yesterday.

  

I have a goal to see how many times I can use this picture.

P.S. I have decided that if I ever get a life prison sentence I will read Ulysses by James Joyce.


And today is Mali Refugee Music Day (at my school of me). Enjoy!

"ke-bab"

It's easy to get a skewed picture of what I'm doing with my life right now, I should know, I live it. Not that it matters if you are all skewered but when it's me things get crazy pretty quickly. Like today when I was thinking, Do I miss school? If I were a professor I wouldn't be giving people parking tickets. I should be a professor. If there is anything I have learned from having a father who teaches future teachers: T H I S   D O E S   N O T   Q U A L I F Y  A S   A P P R O P R I A T E  J U S T I F I C A T I O N   F O R   B E C O M I N G   A N   E D U C A T O R ! ! !


But possibly even worse is when I start wondering, Who could I marry instead of do this job? Not that marriage would negate the necessity of me working but knowing that there is no one within a 60 mile radius whom I would ever marry, ergo: move at least sixty miles = I don't do this job. This is not too strong a statement, there are not that many people in this 60MR and I know enough of them. But truth be told, I can never think of anyone in a kajillion mile radius whom I would marry right   n o w   either.


So.


I give people parking tickets. And most of the time I remember that's not all I do.

et alors, nous voyons...

I haven't the foggiest idea of where my college diploma has ended up after this move, however, I did just find my Cloud Appreciation Society certificate!


New theory: People who know where their college diplomas are don't end up with part time jobs giving out parking tickets to other students who are in pursuit of their own diplomas.

now bees try to pollinate my headphones

true story. Or stories, because it happens frequently. I thought this was because of the floral print but one was bent on pollinating my nose yesterday and my nose is not floral print, so...


The trick with being a parking attendant is not to roll your eyes when it seems that some people think a garter is a sufficient substitute for a parking pass around their rear view mirror. Or their high school graduation tassel, Guinness beer lanyard, or crucifix. I prefer parking passes. In fact, I have developed a great love for parking passes.


It's a small campus, about the size of your thumb. Half of our lots are gravel–which has as much to do with the campus being in a flood plain as much as with the student body size. I'm learning license plate numbers and soon might have all of campus memorized. I already dream about ticketing at night which is the worst. In the day I'm pleasantly distracted by podcasts, in sleep it's just not restful.

As the Solo Enforcer of Parking Dread I can make my rounds in an hour. I'm having to memorize staff vehicles–there aren't many campus cars so everyone drives their own. I only deal in parking so vehicles are always separate from owners. It's a hazy guessing game but nobody seems too worried, so I don't worry either. If I ticket someone on staff they just tease, "Well, we know you're doin' your job." Of course they know I'm doing my job, in fifteen minutes of my morning shift I more than covered my wages for the day with all the fees I hand out.

Sometimes I have a desire to confront students on the sidewalk and say, "Do you know that I graduated? Do you know that I have a bachelor of arts? Isn't it weird that now this is my job?" I imagine that if I did this some sort of hysteria would erupt like uncontrollable giggling or I would just become excessively awkward and stutter. Why I feel like doing this is not something I fully understand. Part of it is narcissistic, I have the impression that the smaller population size you put me in the more I'm bound to stand out and so I'm convinced it's only a matter of time before everyone on campus has seen and recognizes me. 

In fact, at the heart it is rather a selfish desire: to try to command attention from perfect strangers who have their own lives with concerns and hopes. Particularly strangers who are in pursuit of their undergrad and who do not need to be squashed by the reality of what that degree might get them. 

Maybe it stems from a natural desire to understand and validate my current position in life. I may have always imagined growing up that I would be an artist living off of my wits and exploring the outlandish corners of society and philosophizing on their poetic qualities but still I find living it a challenge. I can only see two steps ahead and I want to know two years ahead. Is that so much to ask? So far the answer has been yes, it is too much to ask. Probably because I'm pushing, rushing, wanting, instead of meditating and prayer and......what? I just don't know.

mean lady

I gave everyone in the world a parking ticket today, or at least, it feels like it. But tell me, is it inhumain to smile and bop your head a little bit as you listen to Talulah Gosh and slip a $10 fine under someone's windshield wiper? No. It can't be. Especially with the product of today's side project:

Upon seeing what I'd done my dad buried his face in his hands both in laughter and horror.