Good News

At least, I think it's good news. I'm sort-of starting at Naidre's tomorrow. My follow up e-mail yesterday to Janice (the owner) was answered with her basically saying that she was "on the fence" - that she thought I'd make a good barista, but she wasn't really willing to spend two weeks training me for two months of work. I understand this, I get why I'm not desirable (all too well I get this point), I don't begrudge her that point. But she went on to say that she'd be willing to put me in a few swing shifts, see how quickly I pick up, and maybe keep me on from there. I answered (in nicer words) that any bone at all she'd be willing to throw me, I'd be more than grateful to take. She sent me back an e-mail this afternoon giving me a shift every day for the rest of the week, with the promise of more shifts next week. This seems incredibly promising, but I'm at the stage now where I just don't want to get my hopes up. Especially when their standards for everything (most especially the barista arts) seem very high.

This morning was quite lovely. I spent most of it in bed, enjoying the perfect weather through my windows. Lovely.

When I finally dragged myself out of bed, I decided to go down to Prospect Park, as the 20 steps I'd taken into it yesterday were enchanting. Funny thing - I saw the dog-walker twice. I sort of ducked my head down, because to some extent, she has every reason not to be pleased with me (although I swear her commitment times weren't posted in that ad). But the second time when I actually saw her walking a dog, I really wanted to pull her aside and say this to her: "you know, you should be glad you didn't hire me. Because if you had, in those two and a half months I would have spoiled those dogs by acting like I cared, not being on the phone all the time, and not just ambling around looking bored with them. All the commitment length in the world isn't going to find you someone who cares about those dogs any more than I do."

But my time at Prospect Park was lovely. It's absolutely beautiful there, and also huge. I walked through some of the park, taking pictures of things that caught my eye, and then laid out in one of the giant greens for a little while, watching the kids play and the dogs walk by. It was the perfect day for it - it's only barely broken the 70s here, and the wind was blowing, so laying in the sun was just perfect. I had plans to spend more time in the park for the next couple of days, and maybe even go back to Coney Island and get some more sun. But it's much better to get some work in, get my days a little more structured first, so I'm pleased. I've always found that I appreciate my days off so much more when I actually have days on.

When I decided I'd had enough sun, I started walking back to the subway. Or so I thought - I took a wrong turn. I realized it almost immediately, but for lack of anything pressing to do, decided to go ahead and walk around the entire park. I won't lie, I didn't actually realize how long a walk it was going to be. Luckily, though, I was wearing my Toms (also luckily, I didn't step on any syringes), so I made it fine. It's actually really interesting to see how the neighborhood transforms around the park - Prospect Park West is more upscale housing, while Ocean Avenue is distinctly less classy. I also found the apartment I'd like to own in New York someday - it's got a terrace and a garden and the whole nine yards. And it's across the street from the park.

Last thought: I miss my dog. Funny how they subtly insert themselves into your life, and then you find that they're probably the most indispensable part of it. If I lived anywhere other than the middle of nowhere - basically if there were a park within striking distance - I wouldn't hesitate to go get her. Nine and ten hour shifts have never really mattered to her, and although I don't know if she'd do well with the bus and truck traffic in my neighborhood, I'm finding it less and less easy to cope with the fact that she's 700 miles away. I imagine turning my lower bunk (which is really actually a futon) into her space, putting toys in it and a bed-shaped rolled-up blanket, and then coming home at night to something cuddly and familiar.