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For the Political Set

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January 16, 2012

Dear Republican Candidates for President,

I am very curious to know if you’ve ever had a chance to look at history and what you’ve made of the current situation in both Europe and the US. To me, having just finished reading a rather fascinating biography of the house, it is clear you don’t quite understand just how close you are to spouting some of the exact same rhetoric that was spouted just 100-200 years ago.
Though I know it’s probably not a possibility it would be great if some one sent you the Jonathan Swift essay, A Modest Proposal. With the knowledge that a few of you might miss some of the more subtle points he’s making within the essay, just to make sure, he is not, in fact, proposing that the English eat babies.
If you’re not sure who he is, or what he was modestly proposing, please feel free to look him up. I’ll wait. Then, if you will, please gather together in one of your more famous debates, and each of you tell me what you think we should do, from your own point of view. No, you will not be allowed to use talking points, nor will you be allowed to speak the party line. Your own ideas, based on what’s gone on in the past, versus what it is like now. Thank you.

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Observations

Filed Under: Communication With Public, Diary by Bryna — Leave a comment
November 30, 2011

So,

If you have ever worked in the service industry, be it making coffee, taking peoples bags to their rooms, or driving their car to a certain place and parking it, etc… then you know that it is typical, at least in the US, to tip. That is, to give someone who did those things for you, a small sum of cash.

In the US, unless it’s stated in your bill (like at certain restaurants) this is not a mandatory thing. You are not obligated to give the waiter serving you your food money if you don’t wish to. On the other hand, it’s seen as something of a mean and cruel thing to do if you walk away without leaving a little something, even if it’s a dollar. Also, for some doing this, if you expect to get the same service you got the last time without leaving a tip and your waiter remembers you, I’d be careful, or at least check your food.

Why do I mention this? Because at those various different services industry jobs the expectation for tips is different too. If you work at a coffee shop people don’t leave twenty dollar bills in the tip jar unless they aren’t looking at what they took out of their wallet. If you dragged their over packed bags to their room, you don’t expect a twenty, but you might be pleasantly surprised. At a coffee shop more often than not it’s the change made from what they customer already paid that gets put in the jar. For a valet, it’s whatever the patron thinks is appropriate and believes their car is worth.

With all of this being said, as someone who drives trolleys around Boston giving tours for a living, getting a one dollar tip is nothing to scoff at. It’s nice to know people enjoyed the tour and even though they paid quite a bit more than that for their ticket, a dollar is all they want to place in the hat, fine. After all, there are plenty of other people in the trolley (it can hold up to 40 sem-odd people) and at least a few of them will also place a dollar there. What I don’t get, is when they put in change. Yes, they are tourists. Guests in Boston, and not always from around here. But change? Even if it adds up to a dollar, placing coins in a hat only makes sense if I’d been doing the entire tour as a street performance. No one has yet to explain to me the meaning of change in the hat.

Not that I’m complaining, per se. It’s just an odd concept. It’s also a pain in the ass if your hat falls off the dashboard and ends up upside down on the floor. Then what you have is dollars, and a lot of quarters, dimes and nickels all rolling around on the floor. With guests aboard it’s even slightly embarrassing when you have to get up from the seat at a stop and pick up everything. Oh well, if someone can give me a reason, I’ll happily take it. Unless it’s because the people who put change in the hat are just trying to empty their pockets. If that’s the case, then they should try something else for a change.

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Running

Filed Under: Communication With Public, Diary by Bryna — Leave a comment
November 30, 2011

In this particular case, not running from something, but instead, taking jogging up again after a short absence. I stopped jogging regularly last year, because I couldn’t find the time to fit it in. There was lesson planning and teaching and a bunch of other things and I didn’t want to get up any earlier than necessary in order to get to work. So, each day, I let the idea of jogging slide off into the distance with the promise that I would go back to it on the weekend.

Since we all know how promises like that work, weekends themselves became a little busy and sooner rather than later, jogging became a thing of the past. I missed the pounding of the pavement and the feeling of accomplishment. It was overshadowed by the looming fact that I shouldn’t have been teaching first and second graders. Inevitably, my job also became a thing of the past, as did my lovely apartment. (For those of you who are wondering, I lost the apartment because my landlady went into a nursing home and her kids decided to sell the house my apartment was in. This is sad, but not horrific as losing an apartment because you can’t pay the rent.) Jogging still remained one of the lower things on my list to take up. I started a new job, driving trolleys. This job too, did not lend itself to the act of jogging, at least, not every day, unless I was willing to make a change.

It turned out that willingness counted for at least a little, but it didn’t result in jogging more than once or twice a week. This was a far cry from the four to five times a week I’d been doing before. Summer progressed into hot days of exhaustion and trolley driving, worrying about credit cards and rent, and wondering what would happen to my landlady. At least three or four times I tied up the laces of my shoes, closed the apartment door behind me and set out. Autumn came with the news that the sons and daughters of my land lady wanted to sell the house. News of this did not help with motivation.

To put off thinking about it I took my bike out for a ride, or two or three. Jogging was now a thing of the past, an activity I occasionally thought about doing, but never seemed to get around to. My shoes lay on the bottom of a crate next to the door, frowning as I walked past them to get dinner, or visit family. The house was sold, and while I knew the move had to happen, that too, I put off thinking about. It was easier to not think about than it was to think about. Boxes appeared next to the door, taking up space in the narrow hallway. Things started to disappear within them, the shoes, sitting at the bottom of the crate, instead of being used, were thrown unceremoniously into my car and taken back to my parents house.

Motivation struck once more. The space was familiar, and I knew that whatever the streets offered me, I could jog upon them with little problem. At this point though, my legs and my stamina had begun to wither. The shoes weren’t right, they had moldered, become too worn out to use properly and so jogging had to wait.

Finally, this Sunday was the day. I bought a new pair. They weren’t perfect, but they were right and would work for what I needed. Today, I went out, ready for the road. It was wonderful, the cars swept past, the air was warm and the shoes cushioned.

And now, I wish I’d stretched just a little more.

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For the New Folks

Filed Under: Communication With Public, Diary by Bryna — Leave a comment
November 20, 2011

Hello. Welcome to the site, and I hope you’ve been enjoying the backlog of work that I’ve produced, since clearly there really hasn’t been much added over the past several months.

There are several reasons for this. One, I’m really bad at up keep. I can do things for months at a time, and then just drop it. Come to think about this, that’s one of the ways I watch TV shows. The other reason is that due to various other things going on in life, I just didn’t see the point in filling in this space with writing. I know, if I want to be a writer, and grow my ‘platform’ as the folks in the industry are calling it these days, then I really ought to make sure there are people who are getting what I’m writing.

The problem is, I’m completely disorganized. I want to work on my book and I want to do a lot of other things as well. In fact, a very good example for this is the most recent Simpsons episode, where Lisa wants to be a writer. She spends most of her time doing other things, and then, when it comes time to put her words to paper, she gets distracted again. Things get written in fits and starts.

Then there’s the distractions themselves. For a while, about a year an a half, I was part of an A Cappella group. We were pretty good, not Sing-Off material, but good enough to ask for money if we wanted to. The problem with our group was we didn’t have a leader, we had a voting system based on the idea of pure democracy. Let me tell you, it doesn’t work when there are a group of people who don’t want to do what you want to do and will make sure that it never happens. Just look at the current congress.

I moved too. For those of you who have never had this pleasure, then congratulations. For those of you who have, you know just how much of an upheaval it can be, and for someone like me, it wasn’t great. I’m still trying to figure out where I put most of my underwear. They’re in a plastic bag somewhere…

Anyway, all of this is just to let you know I am still working on things, and I am also looking for ideas for the 365 fictional things to do before you die. Since that would be fun to finish and I think I’m up to something like, 103.
If you don’t know I’m also on twitter. I try to post something on that at least once a day, and if you follow me, you’ll know what I’m up to in real life, at least a little.

It’s @fictionalthings if you’re interested.

On to the new day and for those of you in the states, happy thanksgiving.

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Custom Coffins for Sale

Filed Under: Corrugated Hardware, Work in Progress by Bryna — Leave a comment
November 20, 2011

Helan pressed her face up against the glass and smiled. Her breath fogged the clear window, making it difficult to see inside, but it didn’t matter, she wasn’t trying to see anyway. Her cheek felt soft with the pane against it, the sensation both old and new. Peeling her skin from the smooth surface, she kept the smile on her face and twirled a finger through her short auburn hair. “I have to admit, this wasn’t what I thought it was going to be like.”

Ward smiled back at her, letting his fangs show for a moment before hiding them again. “No one ever does.”

“Hmm.” Her hum was deep and sexy, and slightly fake.

Andrew tried very hard to not roll his eyes. The three of them continued down the street, passing by a couple over flowing bars before stopping at one which looked usable enough. Helan tottered for a few more steps before stopping a couple feet ahead of the two men. One of her heels leaned too far to the right before she could correct herself, causing her to look more drunk than she was. “She’s just 21.”

Ward shrugged before catching her too fast for anyone to notice he’d moved. “And she’s a friend, so, we’re showing her a good time.”

“She’s not a friend, she’s the bosses granddaughter, and this is not a good time.” He looked at the girl, who grinned back and gave him a full on smile he didn’t want. It reminded him too much of the change Ward had made with his girlfriend.

“It is for me.”

Andrew didn’t say anything. Helan, before she’d gotten plastered, has given Ward permission to enjoy the night vicariously through her. It wasn’t something either of them thought would be a good idea, but someone, Ward, had said if she wanted to live in a fantasy for one night, he wasn’t going to stop it.

Several people exited the bar, cigarettes in hand. Ward, still holding on to the drunk 21 year old, bummed one off a guy, lighting it quickly before Andrew could say anything. “Think of it this way, that talk we had earlier about feeling guilty, the drunker she is, the less guilt I feel.”

“Oh good.”

Ward didn’t hide his look. If there was one thing he was good at, it was, looks. It was worse than the eye roll. “Have you drunk anything at all? It’s not like we’re driving anywhere.”
Andrew glared back at his friend and slunk into the bar, radiating annoyance.

The cigarette was long finished by the time he came out again, having finished a pint. It hadn’t made much of a difference. Helan had collapsed next to the wall, her legs splayed out in front of her like a little girl. The ill adivsed dress of the evening doing little to protects what was on the ground from seeping cold. Ward stood over her looking satisfied with himself.

“You didn’t.”

“What?”

Making a gesture, Andrew indicated what he was hoping hadn’t happend.

Digust made its way across Wards features before letting them settle back into their normal insuicance. “Good god no. Do you think I even bothered to touch her earlier? What the hell do you take me for?”

“Well, the old man?”

“That was different. Jeez! Andrew, not her, never her.” Both of them stared at the prone figure against the wall. Neither of them wanted to say it, but Ward was going to have to carry her back to her grandmothers place. “I’m not doing it by myself.”

“What about your super vampire strength.”

Ward gave him another look. “You’ve been reading again, haven’t you.”

With the knowledge that any conversation bringing up Ward’s nature involved embarrasment, Andrew shrugged and nodded.

“It’ll give out carrying her two blocks. Besides, with you carrying her, it’ll look like you had a fun night out, with me, it’ll look like I downgraded.”

“She’s not that bad.” They looked down at her again. “We could leave her here.”

The thought of Orthalia learning of this treatment of her granddaughter stopped the thought dead. For a moment they didn’t speak, letting the sounds of the bar wash over them. Andrew wished he’d had more to drink. A lightbuld flickered and died overhead. “I got it.”

“The coffin.”

“Don’t do that!” He paused for a moment to let the admonishment sink in and then thought about which one they were both thinking of. “Well, now we know what the wheels were for, right?”

Ward sighed. “Not this. On the other hand… It could work. It’s big enough.” He smiled, this time genuinely. “Hey, You’re staying here with her though, not me. I entertained all night.”

“Fine.”

“So you’re sure you don’t want to be a vampire?”

“Why?” The answer was obvious, Andrew didn’t want to hear it. “Nevermind, just get the coffin.”

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Day Four (July 19th, 2011)

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July 19, 2011

If I’ve missed a day, I’ll check it later.

Lately I’ve been reading A Game of Thrones, since it’s been very hard to resist given all the press. What’s amazing to me at the current moment is just how much of the beginning the writers and producers of the TV show kept. I can only hope that at some point this happens with the piece I’m working on, although at the rate I’m going this isn’t going to happen for another ten years, if at all.

One of my major problems is that I don’t have anyone really hanging on to read more of it. I’m not beholden to a person when it comes to writing the story. It’s just me and the work. This is fine, but there’s nothing there to say that it should go anywhere after that.

Alright, enough feeling sorry and not getting up off my ass to deal. Starting today I’m going to be working on character biographies and backgrounds, their motivations and why they do what they do. It’s not like they don’t exist, I don’t create them in a vacuum and I certainly can’t claim I’m not influenced by what I read. It’s just that one of the things I’ve realized over this past year is that I make many leaps that most people don’t and assume that they’re right there with me when really they’re still standing on the ledge behind looking baffled. All it takes is to create the bridge between that I can see and they don’t. It’s not because their any less savvy than I, it’s because I know where it’s going, and they don’t. Explaining it just a little bit helps in a big way.

This translates to when I’m teaching as well. I can’t think that the kids I’m speaking to understand my approach to the Torah unless I show them how to question in the most basic terms. Ask the surface questions first. Then go deeper. It’s akin to teaching someone to swim. Throwing them in the deep end before they know what it means to float, let alone anything else just gives you a person to rescue. Yes, they might figure out how to tread water pretty quickly, but that won’t get them back to the side of the pool.

One of the reasons I’m writing this entry, however, has more to do with money than anything else. I’ve got some and I have a full time job, but it’s getting fairly tight and I’m worried. It’s happened before, and I’ve been working hard to keep it from happening again. I know I’ll be okay in the long run, but right now… it’s the other part that’s been stressing me out. On the other hand… I have to admit that it’s nice to only stress about this and not about work. Work, for better or for worse is fun and easy. Despite the small mishap that happened on Saturday everything else has been going really well. I can’t complain.

Well, I can, but I won’t, at least not about that. No, I’ll complain about my other bits of life. Mostly why on earth did I volunteer myself to be president of my A Cappella group? There are twelve people in the group and it’s a lot of fun to sing in, but not everyone gets along and there are some people that just get on other peoples nerves. This is normal for a group of people more than two, (and if you think about it’s it’s pretty normal for two people as well.) The interesting bit is trying to figure out how to make sure everyone doesn’t chafe against each other each time we get together. This means for anything, social or otherwise. Certainly keeping this up is part of the position I volunteered for but as a person who likes to sit back and not take charge I am bad at it if I see something that needs doing. Okay, that’s not true. I like taking charge and making things happen, it’s the personal bits I don’t want to deal with.

This past year I took some time off, mentally speaking. Now I’m back and I want everything to go well. Let’s see if I can keep it up, or if this is only Summer talking and when Winter roles around again if I’ll be able to say the same.

damn.

Bryna

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Day Three (July 12th, 2011)

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July 12, 2011

So, yesterday I bought an iPad. I managed to hold myself back for about three months but yesterday my will ran out. Weirdly enough I was hoping this would not be the case, but now that I have it, I really like it. Now all I have to do is worry about making sure I can pay for it, my rent and my other credit card bills. Isn’t this always the case?

On Thursday I’m meeting with my boss from last year. Originally I wasn’t supposed to keep teaching the sixth grade at that school, since last year just wasn’t the best. It works better if I put it that way instead of another. She and I will discuss what I want to teach this coming year and whether or not the kids will sign up for it. I’m hoping they will, but if they don’t then I’ll have to think of something else.

Right, a little more meat to the messages here. Have you ever felt guilty about buying something you know you probably shouldn’t? Even if it’s for yourself and you’ve been pretty good about other things? I supposed it’s the same way with people who diet all the time. I know I shouldn’t eat the cake, but the cake is sooo good, and I promise I won’t eat anything else bad for me this week. It’s like that, only, actually, it’s almost the same exact thing. The major difference being that you can’t really stop spending money sort of, you can, but…. either way, there’s not a huge amount I’m going to do about it at this point. That’s always been the way I live my life. The major exception to this particular rule is buying tickets to go to Europe. The reason behind that being that I know I can’t afford it at all, whereas, I know with the iPad I’ll have enough to cover it and anything else that may come along within the next two months.

Sigh.

Back to another thing. This morning I had a chance to listen to On Point where they were interviewing George RR Martin. The man is smart and it came across well in the talk. It also gave me some hope, because I know that if I keep plugging away at my own story eventually it’s going to get there. What I need to do now is really make sure I can get a little more in touch with the characters I’m writing about and the places they live in. Right now it’s kind of an amorphous blob and to a certain extent this comes through in the writing. It’s one of the reasons my mother complained that the other story I wrote didn’t make much sense. I’m still tempted to put it on Kindle. Maybe free for the first several hundred people? It’ll take a year for that to happen, so I might as well. Hmmm… Actually, I like this idea.

Okay, I’m off to make my bed and try to decide if I want to watch TV or read.

Bryna

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Conversations with Vampires

Filed Under: 365 Fictional Things to do Before You Die, Communication With Public, Corrugated Hardware, Work in Progress by Bryna — 2 Comments
July 5, 2011

Ward knocked on the door of the apartment building. Andrew stood on the steps below, his nose in a book. He looked occasionally to see if Ward would answer a question, putting his head back down when none was forthcoming. Huffing out a breath, Ward crossed his arms and stared down at Andrew. “I mean, yeah I can be charismatic as the next guy, but don’t ask me to feel all guilty and shit because of what I eat.”

“Fine.” Andrew kept reading, turning the page when he’d finished with it.

Still keeping his eye on the door of the apartment, Ward leaned against the side of the building. “It’s not like I have a choice anything, it’s pretty well spelled out in the contract. You become a vampire, you drink blood. I’m supposed to be a sympathetic character who’s constantly tormented by what he is? That’s just bull. I mean, if that were the case why didn’t I just commit suicide once I figured out I was a vampire, right?”

Closing the book with a thump, Andrew took one step up the stairs. “And how would you do that?”

War narrowed his eyes at his friend and continued to lean nonchalantly against the wall. Vampires were very good at that. He also sighed theatrically. “Not the point I was making there.”

“I know. I just thought I’d bring it up. But the books do say that you’re supposed to be all sad about who you are and abstain from blood because that way you can be more human, I guess.”

Refusing to change his position, Ward shifted his feet a little. He could hear the occupant of the apartment making his way to the door, but didn’t bother saying it yet. “Who says I want to be more human? Besides, do you abstain from food?”

“No.”

“So… I’m supposed to? Also, at least we don’t call it something other than what it is.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, you don’t go into a restaurant have someone say to you, I hear the cow is lovely today.”

“But they do that with fish.”

“Fish are less sympathetic.”

Andrew gave him a look. “Okay, so you’re saying you can be sympathetic to those you eat.”

“No, well, maybe, but that wasn’t the point.”

The book tapped against the iron railing, making it vibrate a bit. Andrew shook his head. “So what is then?”

Stepping away from the door to let the occupant of the apartment open it without being too surprised, Ward made a face. “I guess my point is that I do feel sorry for the victim, but I’m not eating them completely, not really. Look, if I went around killing people so I could eat, then where would that leave me in terms of trying to settle down in a place, right?”

“The book’s say you never settle in one place for too long anyway.”

“Not too long, but again, keep in mind, too long could be, like a thousand years. A couple hundred isn’t exactly short, but it’s fine by me, humans are pretty accepting when it come to certain types of longevity if you know what I mean.”

The door opened. An old man looked at them, squinting in the afternoon sunlight. “Can I help you?”

Ward smiled nicely at the man and stepped forward just a bit for effect. “Hi, we’re representatives of Orthalia’s Custom Coffin’s Company, and we’re here to take your measurements.”

The man took a step back, still squinting. He shook his head, “I called yesterday, she said you wouldn’t be by until tomorrow.”

“We had some time off. I don’t suppose you could let us in?” He glanced down at Andrew, who stood at the bottom step, his eyes on the man.

“Of course.”

“Thank you.”

The three of them stepped inside.

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Day Two (July 5th, 2011)

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July 5, 2011

With the realization that this is not exactly a day by day journal, I figured I’d keep up with those numbers because it has more to do with when I write the journal than anything else. Besides, I’ll be covering the last several days in addition to this one.

First thing off the bat. I love the fact that my parents tell me that I need more of a social life (and I don’t disagree with them). I’ve been looking for various groups to join up and meet on Meetup.com in order to get on this, since I’m clearly not doing such a hot job of the social thing otherwise. On the other hand, tomorrow night I signed up for an ultimate frisbee group that’s meeting not too far from where I live. I can even bike to it. People are asked to be there by eight to get to know each other. Great, I like ultimate frisbee, and most of the people who do it, tend to like other things I do too. Sadly (and I’ll get to the next bit in a moment) my mom tells me she wants to go shopping for some rather important undergarments tomorrow, and yes, I’m coming too. Now, the timing of this could work out of course, but more likely than not I’ll be getting back to my place around nine, making it a little late to go to the ultimate frisbee thing. I could say no, and that would be fine, she’d even be a bit surprised, since I don’t do that. The major problem is not my parents you see, but me, I like spending time with them. The other thing being that I could really use some new undergarments. And it’s not like I can’t go play ultimate frisbee another time, they’ll probably be meeting soon again, it’s just that…. well, it’s the social thing.

On the other hand, sigh, you know, the very thought of getting therapy is appealing these days, sadly I don’t think it would help. I’m not really unhappy, depressed or even feeling ennui. What I need to come to terms with is that I haven’t quite found my niche. To be really cliche about it, I could quote U2, but I won’t, because although that song is good, I don’t actually like them all that much.

(By the way, I just paused there for about fifteen minutes while I went to Meetup.com to make sure there are other things for me to do and looked at okcupid.com. I also watched a few movie trailers and wondered whether or not I just totally missed out on my teen years and that’s why I’m so bad at getting out and being social. I didn’t stay on okcupid for long though, I’ll probably spend more time on it tomorrow.)

(Another thing, this is a personal journal that I am putting out there for other people to read. For this reason I am putting this next sentence in. As far as I know, I am not a socially awkward person. The people I meet tend to like me and I speak to them with no problem, in fact, I make friends quite easily. The problem for me is I have to feel very comfortable with them to go out and spend any length of time with them to do anything. If I don’t, then I will find excuses not to go out at all. So I guess what I really am is a shut in, heh.)

Getting back to the last couple of days however, I’d like to address the idea of tips. Yes, those wonderful little snips of money people get and give for services rendered above what they’ve already paid. There have been studies done on why people give tips, or not. What’s been found is that there isn’t an explanation that’s very satisfying either way. Some people feel the need to give tips no matter what (although I doubt they tip their shoe sales person) and some never do, or there are some who only tip in restaurants. Now that I work in an industry where tips are expected (we even have a hat for people to put their money in.) I’m beginning to wonder just what it is that would motivate some and not others.

A good example of this being yesterday. Yesterday was July 4th. The trolleys run on July 4th, this being Boston, the cradle of the revolution. July 4th is a really big thing here in Boston, and there are crowds numbering close to a million gathering on either side of the Charles River through out the day. In order to accomodate the crowds, streets are eventually closed, and that means the trolley route is changed. During most of the day this isn’t a problem. At the last hours of our operation, however, I could no longer get the trolley over in to Cambridge, and shaved two of the stops off the route.

I had the last trolley tour of the day yesterday. We stop picking up new people at 5:00pm. That means when we get to the various stops on the route, we’ll drop people off, but if there are people waiting to get on… they’re out of luck. I, being nice, will pick people up after that, depending on the time. What I don’t understand, is if say… I have most of everyone off the trolley and then it turns out that there’s one more and they want to go to the very last stop (that is, go all the way around again). They’ve been on the trolley the whole time I might add. I would tip the person because I know it’s the last trip of the day and they’ve graciously given the whole tour, whereas if you’d gotten off earlier, they could have left earlier. It makes sense in some way that yes, you’ve paid for the tour and two full days, but take in to account the human factor as well.

Griping done, at least about that. The other thing I’ve learned on the job is that it’s amazing. There’s nothing like it. It gets hot and sticky and people can be talking over you, but you’re telling them about Boston and driving a huge vehicle. There truly is something to be said for driving a huge vehicle. All that is required is to be a people person and talking. Over the past three days however, I’ve found that talking becomes decidedly more difficult the more tired you are and the amount of times you need to speak. So, the more experience I get, the better, in addition, the more sleep I get the better.

Okay, I’m signing off now, I’m sure to be back a little later. Oh, but I did want to add my new fantasy about meeting a male.

I will be driving the trolley for a couple days straight and a cute guy will be so taken with me that he’ll stay on for the whole tour the first time, then when I get off the trolley, he’ll wait until I get on again and take the tour a second time, the full one hour and forty minutes of it. The second time I get off the trolley, he’ll get the nerve to say hello, but not much else. The third time he realizes he needs to get back to his hotel, but the next day he does the same thing, only this time he gets up the nerve to speak with me for a little longer and obtain my phone-number. (As I’m writing this, it’s beginning to sound a little creepy.) The next day he’ll call and we’ll hit it off, as it happens we decide to meet for drinks and I begin to really get to know him. The rest will fall in to place, only he’ll have to leave for whatever country he’s from the day after that. So… he calls every night to say hello and catch up on the day, and eventually we pool enough money together so that I can go visit him and meet his family. Then he does the same. Over the next summer he recreates how we meet and proposes in the middle of one of my tours. The crowd claps, I’m so flustered I need to pull the trolley over, call in to dispatch and tell them what happened. Then I’ll accept and continue the tour since that’s what I’m paid to do. That night I’ll show my parents the ring and we’ll have a celebratory dinner making plans to fly out to San Francisco to visit my brother and his wife. (At this point I could go on, but it’s already so unbelievable a fantasy that I’ll stop here.)

Bryna

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Day One (June 29th, 2011)

Filed Under: Diary by Bryna — 2 Comments
June 29, 2011

Well, due to the fact that the day before my mother declared that the first book I ever finished was a slog, I didn’t sleep very well last night. Not that I think I’m a bad writer, nor does she (I’ll get to that in a few paragraphs), but as much as I like to think I’ve got a thick skin when it comes to being a writer, it’s a little hard to take when it’s your mother telling you these things. This being said, I still managed to get up this morning despite the previous night’s interrupted sleep. Sadly I can’t really blame the poor sleep patterns on what she said, since it’s mostly due to the anxiety about the job I now hold.

Speaking of… having started the job in May, it’s been about a month and three weeks since then and this is probably one of the easier jobs I’ve held. Going back and forth in my mind about the job, I’ve wondered whether or not I’ll be able to hold on to it for the whole year (which would be wonderful). That’s mostly been my major concern. If I can, and I do, then what does that mean for the Jewish portion of my life? I’m happy where I am now, both with the job and my life (other than the boyfriend thing, it would be nice to have one.) Weirdly enough, this job in particular means that I can in fact have a life. It’s a new thing. Having spent the better part of my existence within the Jewish world up until now means that my life has had a very proscribed pattern. Especially since I was working within the Jewish world.

What did that mean? For me it meant that I worked in either an after school program, or I worked at a Day School, or some combination of the two. Working in either was a lot of time and effort, much of it spent at home planning lessons for the next day. Yes there was time for this at school as well, but either way, by the time I got home in the afternoon or evening, I wasn’t very in the mood to go out afterwards, especially if I had to work the next day. This was fine if I wasn’t getting home until 6 and didn’t have dinner until 7. Now? Now there are days where I work and days where I don’t work, but none of them require me to take that work home with me.

For someone else, this would be a great time for them to celebrate. For me it means I have to find something to do with myself that requires friends and going out. Since a lot of my friends don’t live near me, it means finding friends in the area, something which I haven’t worked very hard at for a very long time. So, at the age where some people have already found a person they want to be with, and some have already started families, I find myself in a dating pool with a lot of other people just like me. I can’t say I’m that surprised, but I’m not sure I’m ready for it.

Back to the day at hand. Today I got up, took a shower, made sure the cat had clean litter and didn’t leave enough time to pack myself a lunch. As it turned out this wasn’t the most auspicious day for buying lunch as instead of stopping near either City Place or Faneuil Hall (Quincy Market), we ended up back at base. Lucky for me our trainer decided to go to this nice little market somewhere in Dorchester and took me with her. (I’ll tell you, they make really good sandwiches there) Before being called back to base I got to go on the trolley with another trainer and one of the other trainees. Since this is supposed to be one of the busiest weekends we have in the tourist business, we were working on making sure we knew the Seaport Loop so that if we needed to, we could run that while other people ran the Boston one.

So we came back to base just as I was about to practice the main loop to see if I could do the whole thing without making too many mistakes. Because the person who was in charge of approving the schedules wasn’t there yet, we broke for an early lunch. By the time the trainer and I got back, it was about time for lunch and while she and the other people making the schedule talked, I had a nice conversation with my fellow trainees.

Once our schedule was decided, (which I’m kind of now regretting. I could have rescheduled the doctors appointment. I’m wondering if it’s not too late to switch with someone.) I went out with the head of the operations here in Boston to certify. Turns out the trainer I had been out with in the morning was waiting for us back on the trolley. My heart was racing due to nerves, but I had been obsessing over getting fully certified by this Friday (the first of July) and I asked him if I should. He was completely supportive which was really helpful (I keep pausing in the middle of sentences here to play with different parts of my desk). So I asked, and by the end of the day, that is exactly what I got. A full certification with the caveat that I’m not perfect yet and I need to work on getting better. It was an exhalation moment but also the point where I started to ask the questions I asked a little earlier in this entry.

After a long seven weeks, I will hopefully sleep better at night, and in the future have fewer naval gazings and more stories about the passengers I have on the trolleys. We’ll see. In the mean time, I’ll post either the days I’m driving, or every day, depending on how much I wish to put up here.

Bryna

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