Monday, March 31, 2003

I was amused when I saw this article in The Detroit News last week where my blog is mentioned. I had not spoken to the reporter, but guess that he found me through Blogger and surmised what he did through my entries. It feels kind of neat to be part of this community who blogs, as we all do it for our own reasons. It's like an underground drumbeat, barely audible when one is standing, but if you put your ear to the ground, you hear the many different beats from all the drums and realize that there is a whole other world thriving just beneath the surface. For our own reasons, all of us who blog felt the need to type that first line and take the risk that someone out there will see it.

I took the afternoon off at the blessing of the manager. Sales are low, and they are still taking volunteers to go home early.

Once again, I volunteered. Tomorrow I do not work. I didn't want to be there today, which is becoming harder and harder to fight off. Especially when my company at the cashier is a 20-year-old "I know everything already about life" college drop out who usually bores me and others who have mentioned to me his rantings, with his drinking and partying tales. This guy lives for $1 beer night at the mall. Mostly, I just nod and smile, but sometimes I like to shake his tree a little bit about his views and get him worked up. Not hard to do. I can practically see him protectively guarding his comfort zone when I mention life outside Baltimore and what you hear on TV and talk radio. I'm working on other employment and have a prospect. It's once again not a career move, but anything is better than the situation that I'm in now.

I drove home, napped, and am getting ready to go to my art class. Last week, the assignment was a self portrait. I missed last week due to needing a break from my head. Sometimes one needs that, and I felt that I just couldn't output that night. I needed to look through someone else's eyes for two hours, so I walked to my mom's house and asked her to see The Pianist with me. We had been struggling for a night to see the movie, but couldn't find an evening that was good for both of us. The movie was playing in the Charles Theatre, an art film house that is exactly what one would imagine an art film house to be. Downtown, funky decorating, off-beat concessions, and pierced hipsters working the counters, pausing from their drawings to get you your refreshments. Just an all around pleasant experience.

The movie was fantastic. Worthy of the praise that it has received. I believe I may have found a refuge in The Charles Theatre, and will be going there again. I guess I can say that it was hooky, well spent.

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