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One day at a time... one day at a time...
May. 25th, 2004 12:15 amBegan internship at Studio Theater today. Man, if this weren't to be such a worthwhile, unique experience (as everyone tells me... please reaffirm these thoughts if you agree), I wouldn't be doing it. It's 40 hours a week for 66 bucks a week. Do the math. That's not minimum wage. That's barely surf labor.
Meanwhile, tomorrow I'm planning on getting chewed out by my father, who sounded furious that I'm doing this. Because it would mean that the only free time I would have to spend with him would be weekends. And I know how much he's been counting on me being back this summer. "I can't tell you how wonderful it's been having you back, John," he told me in a drunken, teary haze. "It's given me a whole new lease on life, it's made everything different."
Bear in mind, this man is literally rotting before me. He's now taken to rolling his socks halfway down to air out his feet. I snuck a glace at them to see these huge, swollen feet burst open, like scabby craters, leaking continually. He can't leave the house, and he hasn't been safe to drive for years even before his condition deteriorated to this point. Spots of blood, pus, and other bodily fluids are everywhere, the floor is encrusted with them. These past couple of weeks I've been getting him groceries and renting films for us to watch. The man's life is so horrible, he only wants to see the lightest, silliest of fare. Bugs Bunny cartoons are all he desires. He's desperate for them. I tried to show him Groundhog Day and he couldn't stand it. It was "too weird" for him, it made him incredibly uncomfortable. God help me.
And now with this job, my time'll be all taken up. I wonder what he's going to say to me tomorrow when I see him? I wonder what he'll threaten me with? He's not going to be interested in hearing about how I need the job (I'm not going to tell him how little I'm being paid), or more importantly how this is me laying the groundwork for some -gasp!- actual post-college employment plans. All he's going to care about is that I'm not going to be there and he's hurt.
I don't need this right now. The internship is cool, but it's gonna be a lot of work, as any real commitment will be. Add that to the usual problems, and my mother sinking further and further into horrible depression over debt (her car broke down today), I really don't need this.
Time to get some sleep. I actually have work tomorrow.
Meanwhile, tomorrow I'm planning on getting chewed out by my father, who sounded furious that I'm doing this. Because it would mean that the only free time I would have to spend with him would be weekends. And I know how much he's been counting on me being back this summer. "I can't tell you how wonderful it's been having you back, John," he told me in a drunken, teary haze. "It's given me a whole new lease on life, it's made everything different."
Bear in mind, this man is literally rotting before me. He's now taken to rolling his socks halfway down to air out his feet. I snuck a glace at them to see these huge, swollen feet burst open, like scabby craters, leaking continually. He can't leave the house, and he hasn't been safe to drive for years even before his condition deteriorated to this point. Spots of blood, pus, and other bodily fluids are everywhere, the floor is encrusted with them. These past couple of weeks I've been getting him groceries and renting films for us to watch. The man's life is so horrible, he only wants to see the lightest, silliest of fare. Bugs Bunny cartoons are all he desires. He's desperate for them. I tried to show him Groundhog Day and he couldn't stand it. It was "too weird" for him, it made him incredibly uncomfortable. God help me.
And now with this job, my time'll be all taken up. I wonder what he's going to say to me tomorrow when I see him? I wonder what he'll threaten me with? He's not going to be interested in hearing about how I need the job (I'm not going to tell him how little I'm being paid), or more importantly how this is me laying the groundwork for some -gasp!- actual post-college employment plans. All he's going to care about is that I'm not going to be there and he's hurt.
I don't need this right now. The internship is cool, but it's gonna be a lot of work, as any real commitment will be. Add that to the usual problems, and my mother sinking further and further into horrible depression over debt (her car broke down today), I really don't need this.
Time to get some sleep. I actually have work tomorrow.
