My new job is decent. And, when I get such a hefty paycheck each week, I can't really complain. I am a proofreader at a financial typesetting company. I like looking for errors and demanding that they be fixed, so all in all it's a pretty good fit for me! (ha-ha.) Apparently I passed the initial proofreading test with flying colors, and the temp job is already showing promise of becoming a permanent position - if I want it to. Which, really, I don't. It's nice for the summer, though.
Most of my co-workers are really characters, to say the least. One of the proofreaders has declared that I look like Mandy Moore. He also calls me a "vivacious violin vixen." Yeah... he's quirky. Another co-worker has been in the career of proofreading for far too long, and daily reminds me, "Don't get trapped here. Don't stay here. You get back to doing music. You love it. That's what you should be doing. I don't want to see you stick around here too long." Another character in the story of my work life is the hispanic man who has been painting the hallways for the past two weeks. He asked one of my co-workers, in Spanish, "Who is the pretty muchacha?", and when I walk by, he puts down his paint brush and gazes at me quite openly, smiling widely. As awkward as it is, I can't help feeling a teeny bit flattered; I don't think I've ever been the object of such open admiration from a complete stranger before.
Something I don't like about my new job is the commute. My commute is titan -- I know this because one day I listened to Mahler's Titan Symphony, with the closing bars dying away just as I pulled into the parking lot. (That's a very long drive, for those of you who don't know Mahler!)
And now, with my new morning schedule of rising at 6:30 each day, it is well past my bedtime this evening. Goodnight, my friends.