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I Should�ve Taken That Left Turn at Albuquerque |
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Hello and welcome. If you're new here, be a dear and Read my Disclaimer. My diary not good enough for you? Fine, be that way. Try these instead: plf
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2002-07-24 - 10:42 p.m.� I'm really enjoying the interviewing volunteer portion of my vacationing supervisor's job. I don't really even mind that it means I have to scramble to find time to get my own job done. I'd much rather do the interviews than data entry or scheduling anyway. What I enjoy about the interviews is the opportunity to talk to these new people, hear their stories. I'll share a little secret here: despite the fact that I quite often hate people in general, I do like meeting and talking with individual persons. Everybody's got a different story, and it's fun and interesting to hear them all. I don't really get to do that with the people I talk to on the phone. There isn't much chance for deep conversation with most of time, so a lot of the time I don't really think of my clients as individuals. They are a collective of people, and therefore they annoy me more often than not. But these interviews are laid back and there is time to chat. Everyone who have been in so far have been fabulous. I have high hopes for all of them. The last woman I interviewed with today reminded me really strongly of someone I remember from the neighbourhood I lived in from the ages of 3 to 5. Talking with her brought back a flood of random childhood memories from that era of my life. The neighbourhood was packed with young families and there were kids everywhere. There was always someone to play with. I remember watching Sesame Street with a kid named David at the house of the woman who looked like the woman I interviewed today. I remember that David was terrified of the Don Music character. I remember there was another girl named Heather who lived down at the other end of the street. She had a little brother named after a day of the week. Friday? Or maybe Tuesday. I remember that he literally had two left feet. I can hear his mother sighing to my mother about the fact that she always had to buy two pairs of shoes for him at a time in order to get two left ones. I remember the family that lived across the street from me. There were three girls and the oldest, Jennifer, was my best friend. She was a year older than me, and I remember being jealous when she got to start school and I didn't. I remember getting a Spirograph and a Barbie camper for my 4th birthday. I remember playing on the lawn with my Willie Waterbug sprinkler until my hyper uncle (who is six years older than me) broke it. I remember 2 "Big Wheels" and a red wagon were stolen out of my back yard on three separate occasions in one summer. I remember my first experience with the concept of death, when the mother of the little girl with the pool at her house(Debbie?) had a miscarrage late into her pregnancy. I remember the childless couple next door who used to take me out for ice cream. I vaguely remember what it felt like to be an only child. The things that stick in my mind are strange. I remember insignificant details. Thre are scenes I can replay in my mind with perfect clarity. And yet I don't remember my first day of school. I don't remember how my parents told me we were moving. I can't conjure up one Halloween, and even Christmas Days from that time of my life are hazy. I suppose it goes without saying that memory is a funny thing. This entry ended up in sort of a different place than it started.
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The big 3 0 - 2006-06-03 Hello again - 2006-05-03 Random stuff in place of an actual update - 2006-03-15 Pictures. Just Because. - 2006-02-23 Christmas 05 - 2005-12-26 Currently listening to: Muppet Radio (memories, sweet, sweet memories) |
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