sammy's finally got a job! he's been without work for the past year. unemployed, sitting on his ass, playing videogames. with me by his side nightly, editing and shooting the shit.
he's gonna be working same days as i, sundays thru thursdays, but he's working thirds.
i work second.
this means we wont see each other nightly anymore. this means it's gonna be weekends again. just like it was a year ago. a year ago i wasnt doing much of anything. i was catalogueing the vids, writing and hanging out with people who i quickly dropped with samuel became available again.
this is my way of saying i'm an asshole.
there was some doubt about sammy getting the job, he had to take a drop test friday. this isnt a problems, per se, because S doesnt indulge in the pot. but jed does. alot. a whole lot. and he was sitting is S's room, his tiny, shut off room, toking away. the day before the drop-test.
for atleast 4hours.
right next to s.
the job he was up for, it's putting tractor treads together. outside contracted by A&D staffing for Caterpillar. this means, instead of the 20+ dollars he'd be making if he were hired thru the company--recieving bennifits and all--he's making 8$ an hour. it's decent pay, better than minimum, but for horrible manual labour.
but he needs a job, he said.
he has to do something.
this is his sacrifice, his phisical, voluntary "attonement" for the past year of sloth. his leech-like life for the past year.
anytime i feel as though i'm the most mature of my lil clan, i just look at my friends. the things they do for money, the things they have to do for money. the shit that they force themselves to do. and here i am, saddened because i cant edit every nite. that i wont see him as oftem. and i have to tell myself to grow up. to fucking grow up. to do what i have to to move on with whatever project i have to, with whatever means possible.
Wes is a good inicator of this. he's a constant reminder that i can do more, that i need to do more.
he's a med student, super-cool. i've written of him before--he was going to be in Vietnam Pt 2 (the short i was going to do in the fall before the actors began backing out), and he was kind enough to play along with one of the shoots i pulled last spring.
i got to know him pretty well during that. he's a christian purist (dont confuse it with a puritan), but not one that completely shuts himself off to the outside. he's open for discussion on different theologies and is quite often one who takes other's POV in account. we once talked about the dychotomy, the balance that he has to keep being both a med student and a christian purist.
he doesnt cuss or smoke or drink. i'm sure he's a virgin. because of this i know i wont run intp the stupid macho shit that i get when conversing with other males.
but i also watch what i say.
he's never asked me to watch what i say, to censor myself. but i do it voulentarily out of ediquette and respect.
we had a nice little conversation once about Fight Club. he's a big fan, as am i. he disected the theology and philosophy, whilst i talked in length about the style and aesthetic qualities. i liked that conversation, i enjoyed it immensly.
another conversation revolved around the definition of pornography. i agreed with him on almost all aspects.
once, in passing, i mentioned my eight year plan and film-school. ever since that moment, every time we talk he asks me about it. he says, Given any more thought about film-school? and i give him the same answer. no. not really. it's a last resort thing.
and he looks at me with the same little smile, nodding along. and it makes me feel so fucking useless.
he's such a great guy. real nice, intelligent, articulate, and a great listener--i mean, he really, really, listens.
military is paying his way thru med school. when he graduates he has to serve for four years or so. it's so hard to imagine him doing so. he's relentlessly optimistic--not really what you imagine when you think of military fellas. i really how that his military service doesnt change him, doesnt break him or anything.
as it is, he's planning on opening a free clinic or a family practice for low income families. this shows (atleast to me) that he cares about helping people, that he's not in it for the money and glamour of the biz--like a lot of the upperclass, WASPy fucks i run across at UIC.
anyway, i realized something about Hip-Hop/Rap, it's easy to fall asleep to it. the monotony of the beats, the tedious loops.
s and i came out of the blockbuster in campustown. there was a redlight and the right lane was about 15-20 cars long, the left lane was 4 cars long. pulling into the left lane, riding past the cars, s pulls a neutral drop, revs his engine. out of the cars we passed, about 5 or 6 reved-up as well. then, at the red-light, the 5-6 folks continued reving. as did s. this continued until the light turned green, approximately 1 minute. then we all took off at 10 MPH.
i realized this was less like a pissing contest and more like a vehicular yawn, if you know what i mean.
he's gonna be working same days as i, sundays thru thursdays, but he's working thirds.
i work second.
this means we wont see each other nightly anymore. this means it's gonna be weekends again. just like it was a year ago. a year ago i wasnt doing much of anything. i was catalogueing the vids, writing and hanging out with people who i quickly dropped with samuel became available again.
this is my way of saying i'm an asshole.
there was some doubt about sammy getting the job, he had to take a drop test friday. this isnt a problems, per se, because S doesnt indulge in the pot. but jed does. alot. a whole lot. and he was sitting is S's room, his tiny, shut off room, toking away. the day before the drop-test.
for atleast 4hours.
right next to s.
the job he was up for, it's putting tractor treads together. outside contracted by A&D staffing for Caterpillar. this means, instead of the 20+ dollars he'd be making if he were hired thru the company--recieving bennifits and all--he's making 8$ an hour. it's decent pay, better than minimum, but for horrible manual labour.
but he needs a job, he said.
he has to do something.
this is his sacrifice, his phisical, voluntary "attonement" for the past year of sloth. his leech-like life for the past year.
anytime i feel as though i'm the most mature of my lil clan, i just look at my friends. the things they do for money, the things they have to do for money. the shit that they force themselves to do. and here i am, saddened because i cant edit every nite. that i wont see him as oftem. and i have to tell myself to grow up. to fucking grow up. to do what i have to to move on with whatever project i have to, with whatever means possible.
Wes is a good inicator of this. he's a constant reminder that i can do more, that i need to do more.
he's a med student, super-cool. i've written of him before--he was going to be in Vietnam Pt 2 (the short i was going to do in the fall before the actors began backing out), and he was kind enough to play along with one of the shoots i pulled last spring.
i got to know him pretty well during that. he's a christian purist (dont confuse it with a puritan), but not one that completely shuts himself off to the outside. he's open for discussion on different theologies and is quite often one who takes other's POV in account. we once talked about the dychotomy, the balance that he has to keep being both a med student and a christian purist.
he doesnt cuss or smoke or drink. i'm sure he's a virgin. because of this i know i wont run intp the stupid macho shit that i get when conversing with other males.
but i also watch what i say.
he's never asked me to watch what i say, to censor myself. but i do it voulentarily out of ediquette and respect.
we had a nice little conversation once about Fight Club. he's a big fan, as am i. he disected the theology and philosophy, whilst i talked in length about the style and aesthetic qualities. i liked that conversation, i enjoyed it immensly.
another conversation revolved around the definition of pornography. i agreed with him on almost all aspects.
once, in passing, i mentioned my eight year plan and film-school. ever since that moment, every time we talk he asks me about it. he says, Given any more thought about film-school? and i give him the same answer. no. not really. it's a last resort thing.
and he looks at me with the same little smile, nodding along. and it makes me feel so fucking useless.
he's such a great guy. real nice, intelligent, articulate, and a great listener--i mean, he really, really, listens.
military is paying his way thru med school. when he graduates he has to serve for four years or so. it's so hard to imagine him doing so. he's relentlessly optimistic--not really what you imagine when you think of military fellas. i really how that his military service doesnt change him, doesnt break him or anything.
as it is, he's planning on opening a free clinic or a family practice for low income families. this shows (atleast to me) that he cares about helping people, that he's not in it for the money and glamour of the biz--like a lot of the upperclass, WASPy fucks i run across at UIC.
anyway, i realized something about Hip-Hop/Rap, it's easy to fall asleep to it. the monotony of the beats, the tedious loops.
s and i came out of the blockbuster in campustown. there was a redlight and the right lane was about 15-20 cars long, the left lane was 4 cars long. pulling into the left lane, riding past the cars, s pulls a neutral drop, revs his engine. out of the cars we passed, about 5 or 6 reved-up as well. then, at the red-light, the 5-6 folks continued reving. as did s. this continued until the light turned green, approximately 1 minute. then we all took off at 10 MPH.
i realized this was less like a pissing contest and more like a vehicular yawn, if you know what i mean.
phoolsfire:
whenever i'm around people who's views i tend to strongly disagree with, instead of being understanding and sensitive, i accidently say things way out of left field that are usually pretty offensive. the kid that sits next to me in one of my classes is like your friend, but i thought i'd invite him out any way saying, "you don't have to drink, you can have soda," then the teacher comes up and says, "yeah cause anthropologists don't drink" (sarcasticly), and i just spouted off with, "yeah, we just sit around and read our bibles and drink our cool-aid"....needless to say, he didn't come.