resurrection

nearly three weeks have passed since my last post and, honestly, not much has changed... until this morning.

i'd submitted my resume to the weekly community newspaper out here to try to scrounge up some freelance copyediting work while i slave away at the country club. it'd be added income and put me in a newsroom - if only for a couple of hours a week.

imagine my surprise this morning when the managing editor calls me to schedule an interview and basically offers me the editorship of the whole shebang. i tentatively asked if she'd read my cover letter, which plainly indicated my intent to return to kenya in due course, and she admitted that she hadn't. but she said that i'm the best candidate they've had for years (which explains the current state of the newspaper) and says that if i'm interested and decide not to return to kenya, the interview would basically be a formality.

so now i'm torn. i know that i have no interest in a/ editing a community newspaper, b/ living on long island (despite my waterfront view and the temptation of spending the approaching summer here) or living in america for that matter and c/ know that this would not help further my career in any way... right?

i mean, the idea of being in control of a newspaper - which, to be honest, is actually a pretty decent local press that wins a lot of community journalism awards - is kind of tempting (just like that long island summer). but in the end, i know it's just not the direction i should be heading. i'd eventually like to be an editor (i think) but for the time being, i'm more committed to getting back to africa and reporting on the ups and downs of the lives of the underreported and, generally, undervalued.

and i did receive word today that one of my kenyan suitors died tragically in a car accident driving home drunk from a late easter dinner. his death is more than slightly ironic, considering he was the country's traffic commissioner in charge of enforcing drunken driving laws...

they call this look library chic

you're all right. what the fuck is wrong with me? i'm going soft in my quickly onsetting old age. let's dope all the children with crank manufactured in an abandoned oklahoma grainery and lock the seniors up in the government subsidized housing in bed stuy as they watch their social security plummet down the sewer system.

am currently at my parents house listening to my father talk to himself and the dog ( or "you snugglebum, you!" as he affectionately refers to her) before my big evening plans: popping into the library to return a couple of books before heading to the local with my latest selections which i'll peruse while knocking back a few jiggers of whiskey. that's how we roll now, folks.

in my infinite free time (while i'm not dressing up like a middle aged secretary in a nebraskan insurance firm), i've had ample opportunity to catch up on all the reading and films i've missed while i've been away. two thoughts. 1. paradise now. people were talking about this movie in nairobi and i finally had a chance to watch it last week (you know, i can't explain how liberating it is to have access to a movie collection that boasts a wider variety than the entire eddie murphy oeuvre and all the merchant ivory productions). i thought it was pretty powerful but perhaps that's because three months ago a bootleg dvd of mr and mrs smith dubbed in mandarin did the trick if you were drunk enough.

but more imporantly, 2. brokeback mountain. really? people really liked this movie? i don't get it.

and you should read embracing the infidels. i'm sure you can find it at your local library.

speaking of which, gotta run. the old broads running the show down there close the doors at nine.

uniformly

let's begin with something that i'm curious about - when did television become so awful? i haven't had access to regular television in years and now that i've got some free time on my hands [and free cable], i've been indulging. truth is, i can't watch more than an hour of it at a time before my brain turns to mush and begins sloshing around my head...

i mean, when did children start speaking so disrespectfully to their parents? when did all the programming become low-budget reality television and souped up law and order? and who is allowing the discovery channel or the learning channel to air programs called "my skin fell off" and "the boy who ate himself?"

in other news, i'm living on my own again. my parents have re-inhabited my childhood home after eight months plus in exile while repairs were made to the fire damage. that means that i'm living it up at the beach solo with the former acidhead of a cat my brother rescued from his college dorm, sasha. i've never taken care of a pet by my lonesome before - have a hard enough time remembering to feed myself - but so far, we're both still alive and sasha's even stopped his annoying anorexia habit.

and i'm employed. at a country club. waitressing and bartending.

i know. i know. i couldn't think of anything to top my kenyan adventure, so i decided to take it in the exact opposite direction and spend my days and nights waiting on a bunch of rich, overprivileged white folks.

there are uniforms involved. until now, i'd been able to escape working at an establishment that requires one to wear uniforms or ask permission to smoke a cigarette or clock in. forget the whole part about being nice to people. i've been lucky enough to scrape by with journalism jobs or farm stand jobs or grading ancient greek compositions (scatter in some random clerical work and babysitting gigs and you've pretty much got my employment history).

this experience is certainly a first - something of a step backward after graduate school, perhaps - but i want so badly to get back to nairobi that this is what i'm willing to do. for god's sake, i have to touch dirty plates smeared with ketchup. not to mention that whole being nice to people thing.

(i realize this is sounding like a rant from one of the overprivileged white folk that i'm catering to currently so i'm going to nip it in the bud now and segue to the wonderful amenities i've been taking advantage of in the suburbs).

cue suburbia. not as bad as i first imagined. for one, i'm not in the suburbs - i'm in the boonies. so there aren't many mega malls and hair salons. just lots of vineyards, farmstands, and migrant workers riding bicycles to their jobs (i'm thinking of boning up on my spanish while i'm home).

two, there's a lovely library which i haven't patronized in years and despite severe gaps in their african history section, did you know you can borrow dvds from the library sans charge (see i'm keeping up with my french)? and surprisingly enough, they've got quite a selection.

and three, my local bar - within biking distance so as to avoid drunk driving episodes - is eager to have a steady patron that isn't 65 years old and whose face doesn't look like a rhinocerous' hide from all those years riding tractors without sunscreen. so far its worked out that for every two drinks i buy, i end up with three free. i'm not so good at math but it doesn't seem that the bartender is either.

lastly? my brother's in town. and while i haven't actually had time opportunity to hang out with him yet, i'm really looking forward to spending some time with that silent satanic genius. alright, alright, you got me. he's not really a satanist, he just dresses like one.

all this being said? i'd rather be flopping along in an inflatable raft off the coast of somalia and take my chances with ak-47 toting pirates than spend another minute on american soil.

would love to blather on some more, but i've got a pair of pleated, tapered pants to iron before i head to work this evening.