Tuesday, January 8, 2013

There is a dream I sometimes have, where I’m either late to class or negligent in submitting a paper, and while the setting changes, the underlying sentiment doesn’t–a brief moment of panic, followed by relief and the assurance of an era far behind me. But what if the panic were warranted? I woke up this morning after oddly dreaming about the office, wholly refreshed and unequivocally fucking late for work. I tore out of bed, rushed through the shower, and was out the door in a record 12 minutes. Didn’t even stop to grab breakfast.

That’s because it was almost lunchtime. I had set my alarm for 8 AM, but neglected to activate it, so in place of the usual shrill beeping was my cellphone ringing at 11:07 AM. Work buddy wanted to know where precisely I was. Shameful, I know. I’m still employed, fortunately. To be completely honest, though, today was one of rare stretches where I was truly awake throughout the workday, not that I’m eager to reenact this anytime soon. Or, like, ever.

This weekend marked the first major milestone of my cleaning initiative. My living room is now officially free of computer parts. It took a few hours to build and vacuum two grossly outdated desktops. The experience was grueling, in a way. Those waferboards and pins sure boast some sharp edges, and small cuts would promptly lead to localized swelling, since I was effectively injecting my body with ancient allergens. It felt like a self-administered allergy test, Puritanical in sensibility, as if I were being punished for putting off this project for so long. But I crossed the finish line and handed two heavy metal cases to the Goodwill worker, who promptly dumped them in a bin with an unceremonious clang. Now that I’ve honed my ability to build junk, it’s time to sell it. Next stop for the home improvement train: eBay.

Thursday, January 3, 2013

When the ball dropped in Times Square a few evenings ago, I averted my eyes the instant it hit bottom in protest of such a ridiculous tradition. More to the point, I averted my eyes from the teevee coverage of the ball dropping, because obviously I wasn’t there in-person. After all, why partake in such an arbitrary demarcation of time? Why indeed? But despite my efforts to opt out, it certainly feels like a new year, for better or worse.

Part of the buzz, I think, is from the people around me. If everybody else has gone Gregorian, then you don’t really have a choice, unless you want to be late or absent from, like, every meeting. That’s only part of the explanation, though, because things are noticeably different around me. I check out my townhouse, and it’s sure getting respectable-looking. I’m more open to the new than ever. There’s a fire in my belly. Things are happening.

That includes some not-so-good things, too, but I don’t think the issues that arrive with a new year are surprising to anyone. Yesterday, for instance, the fuel guage on my car suddenly dropped to empty, right on the highway during rush-hour traffic, despite having topped off the tank two days ago. Nervewracking as it was–“Exactly how big a cluster would it be if my car suddenly stopped now?”–it was just the gauge that was on the fritz. An isolated incident, hopefully, but this car is getting old. I’m refusing to tap into savings, too, in the wake of bills and property taxes, so finances feel a little tighter as well. But hey! With the Mayan apocalypse behind us, there’s nowhere to go but up.

Tuesday, January 1, 2013

Secondhand Rants will return on Thursday, January 03.