2007-05-09

work, French and relationships

I've been temping in a warehouse lately, which isn't all that bad. They actually have work for me to do--tedious, tedious work--but being busy does make the time go a little faster. I bought a white and gold boom box to listen to while I collate stuff. I make announcements on the pa system all day; I think the truckers are amused that I always say please. My manager is a brassy, middle-aged Mexican lady who informed me I shouldn't have children or get married while I'm young, because after that you don't have any fun anymore. Well, she didn't quite put it like that, but that was certainly the gist of it. Anyway, I'm the designated person to make all flyers with clip art and it is probably one of the only admin duties that is almost fun. I'm filling in for the regular receptionist while she is on maternity leave for a couple of months. Guess she didn't listen to my manager.

My French class is coming to an end soon. I think my teacher is really bored with it; he has been talking about how he wants to do away with the book and teach from stories, because coming up with random sentences from the text book is boring. I always thought the inanity of language classes was part of their charm, but can see how it would get less and less charming as the years went on. The class has been good for me--I've learned a bit of French and it gets me out of the apartment two nights a week. The only good part for me about it ending is that I won't have to wait until Thursdays to see Paddy. We have our routine--I have class on Mondays and Wednesdays, do errands on Tuesday, he comes over for dinner on Thursdays and I go to the city on Friday night or Saturday morning and stay until Sunday night. And repeat. But Sunday to Thursday is a long time, almost like forever sometimes, isn't it?

We've almost been together for a year. We were talking about it the other day; how in some ways time seems to have gone so quickly, but in other ways it seems like so much longer than a year. It's funny, because most of the people I know are perennially single, and I think of myself like them. Cute, interesting, slightly neurotic people who need to just meet someone "special" at the right time. I figured I'd probably be alone until I was thirty or something, have a bunch of bad dates and maybe a couple asshole boyfriends that lasted a few months. Especially considering the relationship that I have with my dad and the glowing example of my parent's marriage--the sort of things that make a women fucked up when it comes to men. Instead I'm in a supportive relationship with someone nice--don't get me wrong, I'm very happy--but, in a weird way, I never really expected that I would actually be happy. It's like I have this image of how people are in their twenties, the cool or intellectual ones anyway, which is all a bit silly and overly influenced by TV.

xanthium at 9:18 p.m.

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