Well, today was the first day of my new job. It went fine – they were somewhat disorganized and had very little for me to do just yet, which is fine. I was still cringing from the shock of a 6 a.m. wake up call.
Tomorrow, I found out, I’ll have to be there an hour earlier and that means I’ll have to hop a train at 5:59 to get to the downtown office by 8:00. Let’s not fool ourselves – if you have to take the L, or a bus, or walk once you arrive in the city, it’s going to take at least another half hour. Yay.
I listened to T&S all the way there. I think I may possibly get sick of them by the end of this month if I keep that up. This cannot happen! No!!!
It’s funny how all the suburban commuters travel in a herd when you get off the first train. It’s like a fucking mob. I lived here just 3 months ago, I thought. I’m a real Chicagoan. I’m not one of them! (A year and a half in the city changes you. You start to think you’re an expert on pizza and neighborhoods. People from the burbs turn into dumb tourists.)
On a happy note, I think I managed to look cute and queer – black skinny pants, black blazer, blue button-up shirt and a thumb ring, with Converse shoes for walking through the streets and flats once I got to the office. The lady who was training me asked me at lunch, “So, are you dating anyone?” Not “Do you have a boyfriend?” I’m still not convinced she could tell, being married to a man with 3 kids, but it was nice that she didn’t specify.
One of my coworkers is a guy who worked with me before at my old company. He also knows Mark. Go figure. While I’m not planning to throw a coming-out party with a glitter cake for the office, I’m not going to hide my orientation there, and I’m curious what his reaction will be if he finds out. This job isn’t as much of a clean slate as I was hoping for. But it’s close enough.
With all the commuting, though, which is looking to be realistically closer to 4 hours a day than 3, I’m dreading the crash. I’m making a promise to myself right now that this won’t be more than 2 months. That I’ll stay devoted to my art, my writing. You know. The promises we all make to ourselves when we begin another soul-sucking job. But this soul-sucking job is the key to my happy future, so I’m grabbing it by the horns.
Interestingly enough, I just received an offer from an acquaintance in the city who’s losing one of her roommates soon. She wants to know if I’m interested in living with her.
The timing is impeccable. She can’t possibly know how much. But I’m scared, because she’s a former classmate from high school. I have no idea if she’s still religious, how tolerant she is of different lifestyles, what she’s like as a friend. But if I continue the conversation, I’m going to have to come out to her. But I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt. I hope she’s changed as much since high school as I have. Here’s to taking the plunge.