at my job

I have a lot of free time on my hands when I'm at work, at least it seems like I do when I consider the fact that I'm being paid the entire time I'm there but am pretty much free whenever I'm not assigned a specific task at that moment, if free means sitting at my computer without a specifically assigned task.

I read a lot. I've been reading comics and books mostly, but I'd like to start getting into the habit of picking up a paper on the way in every morning. There are some publications lying around there, but I don't consider the LJW the "paper" I'd be interested in reading daily.

There is no constant internet access, at least not on my computer. My supervisors have login information to bypass it, but otherwise everything is firewalled out except for Google and the search results page (for spelling checks, etc). I sneak around it by using my iGoogle page to glance at my email and sometimes sign into chat for a minute.

Sometimes I write stories on post its and stick them all together.

I took a few albums in on a flash drive and loaded them onto my workstation. I listen to music in my headset when I'm not listening to something or speaking to someone. It feels like it's a secret. While not explicitly outlawed, it's not like it's exactly suggested either, although I feel like it's something they just overlook as long as it never becomes an "issue." Sometimes I sit and just listen to music and stare at things. There is lots of free time to spend thinking thoughts.

I think about my coworkers, drawing conclusions about them and their lives based on the random pieces of the puzzle I've been given. Some of the puzzles seem large, 1000 small pieces or more, while others remind me of the puzzles you do when you're young, the large pieces cut into unique and obvious forms that leave no doubt as to where they fit. I feel like a judgmental person when I sit and think about my coworkers.

In the office, we have these big gray bins they call "secure recycling containers" and it's where we discard job-related paperwork and stuff. I'm given a small amount of paperwork for calls that I work on, and I've become a compulsive doodler because I know that after the meeting is over, I'm going to throw the work order out into this secure recycling container and no one will ever use it or see it again.

Yesterday I thought a lot about the pets of my youth. Growing up on a farm means having lots of pets, especially cats. Most farms have barn cats the way a lord has peasants – they're there to serve a purpose, almost always remain in their place and are basically interchangeable and often more anonymous than traditional pets. Kittens come every season, and then disperse to a new home, the "wild" or the mouth of a local predator.

We had this cat named Sunny. Sunny was a neutered male, which is sort of an oddity for a barn cat. Sunny was one of Daisy's kittens, and when he came along, we already had a tom cat in the barn but we loved him so much that we had him fixed and kept him on as a resident barn pet, and even as an adult he never lost his sweet disposition. Sunny would spend his days hanging out in the barn looking after the kittens while Daisy was out hunting. On numerous occasions, we would find Sunny allowing the kittens to "nurse" on his belly hair. My mom half-jokingly said that she thought he was kind of a pervert, but even then I knew that he was just a good-natured caregiver. My cat was a manny.

+++ Grizzly Bear / Veckatimest