The local Whole Foods is abuzz with activity at 9:15 on this Friday evening. A woman in stretch yoga pants is milling in front of the salad bar, speaking in a presentational tone on her cell phone. Nearby, a young couple is inquiring about the availability of some pumpernickel bread at the bakery. The security guard stands watch at the door, eying an older gentleman in tattered trousers who has wandered into the produce section, caressing a mound of organic cantaloupe. This is my default post-workout dining option on a weekend night. More often than not lately, I have chosen to go it alone. Most of my close friends have moved away from Los Angeles–I lose them at a rate of about one every ten weeks; I've...
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“It smells horrible in here.” Carla walked into the office, letting the door slam behind her. She didn’t even remember to ask how I was doing. And this on a Monday morning. “Oh my gosh, do you smell that?” she asked. “Yeah, it’s weird,” I said, wondering what she was talking about. I could detect little more than a minor odor coming from the back storage area. I figured it was the trash, and noted that I should take it out as soon as possible. Carla wouldn’t relent. “Do you think something died in here over the weekend?” she asked, moving towards the thermostat. “I’m going to blast the air for a bit.” Shameless. She’d use any excuse to turn our office into a snow cave. I...
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Intolerance is something that has always bothered me. Growing up in a relatively confederate part of rural America, I was exposed to a fair share of ignorance and hate. I lived on the border of what were then two very rural counties, equidistant from each county's flagship KKK headquarters. There were regular rallies, and although the scope of their strength was nowhere near what it had been decades earlier, the evidence of their legacy remained clear. The confederate flag was displayed prominently, from residential flagpoles to diesel truck antennae, and flying over a nearby stretch of interstate was the largest flag I've ever seen, confederate or otherwise, a massive rebel-crossed reminder of the controversial...
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Despite my busy schedule as of late, I've found myself more able to indulge my impulses. Going for random walks. Leaving a social event when I'm tired instead of when I think it's "right". Revisiting my old routine of daytime naps. This past week, I rekindled an old urge that, for some reason or other, I used to follow more often: donating leftover food to the homeless. After a work event at the office this week, I found myself with the perfect opportunity. A variety of food remained in the office, from bananas and cookies to chips and soda. As time has gone on, after seeing that my coworkers--as socially conscious as they are--either throw leftovers away or allow said edibles to go to waste, I have assumed...
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Today marked my 125th day in the office. That's 83 consecutive days after the few months hiatus between my current stay here and the initial 42-day experiment. And I'm happy to report that things are going wonderfully. Save for the bi-weekly unpredictability of the cleaners' visit, I've grown quite comfortable here. My routine is such that it'd actually be a bit of an adjustment taking on an apartment again. Really, the only thing I really miss is cooking. Oh, and dating. Since my initial outburst of pseudo-philandering, I've calmed down quite a bit. I've allowed my limitations to keep me focused on my art. I'm like a celibate monk, only instead of worshiping Christ I honor the gods of the guitar and...
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This week saw my stay in the office eclipse 100 cumulative days. So what is it like having reached the century mark milestone? Well, from one perspective, it's a lot like the first 99. I still wake up behind my desk, visit the gym daily, and take care that my routines don't interfere with the general operations of my coworkers. I still entertain questions from friends and family about when I'm going to give in and move to a "real place". And I still entertain those notions, wondering what exactly will be the tipping point, and if there might be a particular moment of epiphany that pushes me over the edge and back into orthodox housing. There have been changes, though. If one tracked my every motion from...
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My coworker stopped by unannounced this morning. This past week was the busiest of the year here at the office, with our the end of the quarter approaching and a major annual event just having taken place. The office was abuzz with preparations, littered with items from the event, boxes of manilla folders, and other speckles of miscellany. Hours have been unusual all week, with all the preparations being made at off-hours and outside consultants coming in and out of the place. For me, this resulted in extended hours away from my temporary home, dedicating a little extra time here and there at the public library or local park. Needless to say, I was tired. So I decided to reward my hard work and careful...
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I've been making a lot of improvements to the office since I moved in. It started innocuously enough, with me organizing a storage closet to accommodate my stuff. People lauded me for my "proactive" approach to "organization". Which, in a way, was right. Solutions undertaken for my own convenience benefited the company. Besides, everyone loves a go-getter! Then I took notice of the transitional area across from the microwave, where I believed lay a perfect spot for my air mattress (although I'm thinking of converting to couch cushions soon...). What is perfect about this spot is that it reduces the likelihood that I'll be caught sleeping there, even if someone barges in unannounced. There is a double-wide...
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“Good morning! How are you?” Carla walked in, the door slamming behind her, catching my keys awkwardly between the door and the frame as they dangled in the inside lock. “Oops! Do you want these?” “Please, thank you! And how are you doing on this fine morning?” I was in a chipper mood this morning, having just liberated myself from the final $900 of my car loan. All in one fell swoop, thanks to the luxury of rent-free living. I was a free man and I was sharing my happiness with the world. “Oh, I’m wonderful, thank you,” she said, emphasizing the ‘thank you’ with a bow as the she passed in front of me, turning the corner to her desk. The sun shone brightly in through the upper reaches...
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On January 28, I moved back into my office. It's been going very well. Mostly, anyway. I am currently writing this post in the company of our bi-weekly office cleaning crew, a family of Mexican immigrants who has proven to show up at unpredictable times in the past. This evening was no different. Having been lounging behind my desk, updating my increasingly popular Facebook page ("Like" me today!) in the dark, I was fortunate enough to hear the first of my visitors fumbling the key in the door. Managing an acrobatic spring to action, I was able to place my open laptop on the desk and swivel into my chair in enough time for the door to open. "How are you doing?" I offered, cheerfully. The small crew, led by...
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