░░▒▒▒▓▓▓▒▒▒░░ (masstreble) wrote,

  • Music:

I'm alive; hello, how are you?

(Two landfill employees wait for the return of their diesel-powered Bobcat. It turns into sight, chased by the clamor of its engine.)
Landfill Laborer: "Looks like our Bobcat's back." (pause) "Our Bobcat's back and there's going to be trou-ble..."
Solid Waste Utility Worker: "Hey-naaa hey-naaaaa--"
Both together: "--Our Bobcat's back." :D
Solid Waste Utility Worker: "We're complete retards."

Work has been eating me alive lately. Rather, it was eating me alive: the last couple of weeks were really crazy. I scored a lot of overtime, but without a chance to recover, it gets a little overwhelming. Thus, I've been very slothful when I'm not working. Oh, who am I kidding, I've just been slothful. ;3 Now that I'm back to an almost predictable fourty-hour work week, I feel like I have a little room to stretch out.

Almost every one of you have no idea what I'm going on about. Sorry I'm such an enigma; if it is any consolation, even those that know me intimately still no little about me. I'm trying to break that, but it's so... hard. Perhaps I'm just supposed to be unintentionally mysterious, and I'm arm-wrestling fate in fighting that. Maybe I have a mysterious past 'n shit, like Wolverine from the X-Men, or Magic Star from My Little Pony--a connection I imagine none of you would have made on your own. I don't know. You're reading the journal of the type of person who compares the literative aspects of comic book mutants to Ponies, of that much you can rest assured. How about I tell 'yall what I'm doing right now in my life?

I'm a mediocre artist currently plodding through a B.A. of Art at the University of Alaska Fairbanks. I'm paying for it by working a lot. I've had a job consistently since I was sixteen, so it's actually working out. My short-term goal is to get that degree, build a portfolio that will get me into the California Institute of Art, and move down there to get a real education and hopefully into a career as an illustrator. My long-term goal is... uhhhhh... BUILD A PLASTIC MOON BASE DOME and fill it with KINKY SEX! My really short-term goal is to make my apartment arrangements in Fairbanks work out. My extremely short-term goal is to get through the summer without a disaster. My rather quite extremely short-term goal is to totally enjoy this tasty watermellon while typing this post. (I'm nailing that last one. Yum! Type! Multitasky.)

This summer, I'm working at a landfill, as a laborer. Lately, I've been kind of psuedo-promoted, so I'm working with lots of hazardous materials. It's messy, but somewhat fun. Did you know that latex paint can go completely bad and start smelling like spoiled milk? It does, and it is terrible. Also, don't let it freeze: it's a pain in the butt for us on the Haz-Mat end when we try to drain it. Anyhow, that can sometimes get a little absorbing, so in conjucture with an unrealiable Internet connection (dial-up, let's not go there), I don't get to spend as much time as I want to online. I promise you I'm reading what you write, even those I just recently met! I can't watch stuff on Youtube and such, but I'm all over text like a 56k badger, rawr.

I'll try to make another post in this vein on Thursday. I really do want to interact with you guys, and feel really guilty about the silence.
Tags: rl, self, social

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