Wednesday, 18 February 2009
don't call me blue, boy
Hello there. I've been spending several nights at the museum, including last Monday. There are a lot of children around and what you do is basically organising everything, explaining games, telling them where to go and what to do, giving them pizza, running around on your own through a dark huge place/along empty corridors. It's creepy and exciting and I like it, even though the other people who work there make me go nuts. The kids usually make up for all the trouble and pent-up anger though: Ten-year old boys and girls are actually a lot of fun to be around, they don't take things too seriously and they actually LAUGH about my silly jokes! Awesome! I get to behave like a child once again without being condescending or behaving like a fairy godmother, and I also get to use the gangsta kid language my brother taught me. This is what I like best about my job. Watching children go completely insane dancing to their favourite songs in the empty museum is also a great part, especially when they're up way past their bedtime and therefore hyperactive.
I don't like the part when you have to stay up really late to clear away everything and then get up again at 6:15 to make breakfast for everyone... or the part when your colleagues are people you can't stand.
It's always a weird feeling to walk away from the museum after having been there for nineteen hours. On Tuesday I was really happy to just put on my big headphones and listen to St Christopher and Another Sunny Day and The Innocence Mission and the awesome Endless Bob Brown. One of my colleagues asked me what kind of music I listen to after he saw me dancing in the bathroom whilst brushing my teeth (it's a way both to avoid early morning talk with other people and to feel better about getting up early) and I bluntly said, "80s indie pop obviously" and I think he thought of Duran Duran and Madonna? No way!
Anyways, I spent the rest of my Tuesday having lunch and tea with my dad and then writing more of my essay in the library of his department where I witnessed many a strange thing because classical philology breeds WEIRD people. For real. It was enjoyable, but I'm really sick of February. I've literally spent all of it either in the museum or working on my essay. I'm quite sick of looking like a boy most days because of having to wear trousers and "simple" clothes for work. I'm also really sick of that essay by now, it's all about one author and even though he was sort of brilliant, he was also slightly racist and insane. Oh well, only three more pages to go! It is a possible task. Three pages in one day, that's okay. And on Friday I'm going to Scotland to spend some quality time pestering Kevin. Ah the joy! Can't wait.