"working on my faults and cracks..."

1.09.2010

these streets (are paved with pico de gallo)

It's always a chore to get the keyboard clicking again. The rolling of the proverbial ball. Especially when you don't have a good reason why it even stopped rolling in the first place. Most excuses are typical internet drivel; got bored, mom canceled internet/WoW subscription, flunked out of college, forced to get job, murdered homeless man and went on the lam, etc etc. What we really need to explain my particular lengthy, and admittedly silent expanse, is a real zinger: like an unplanned sabbatical in the Amazon spent waterfall diving, tripping balls with the local natives, and researching leafy prototypes for the the world's perfect hammock.

So now that we've cleared up where I was, where is the DI now?



My new job's a far cry from the last two summers, spent corralling the rowdy offspring of bitter J-trains and plea-bargaining with Satan on whether or not I'd be expected to pull another 90 hour workweek. Rather, this feels more like a job you'd see in a mail-order employment catalog--the one where the employees are smiling and wearing sandals, they play foosball on break, and answer emails because they give a shit. It's strange to witness firsthand, people working because they want to. Everyone playing their small part in something big. I've heard some companies call this work environment phenomenon "synergy." But I had always thought that synergy was a cubical myth--bullshit PR-speak used to expound in tangible terms, something inexplicably nonexistent. And I'd be totally right. Other such examples would be the Bermuda Triangle, the Tooth Fairy, and Chupacabras.
But there's definitely something in the water here. Synergy be damned, I can now say with great confidence that I enjoy what I do.

The remainder of my free time is spent riding my bicycle to and from the office in frigid temperatures. Every now and then, I stop and put a burrito in my mouth-hole.



It's the Salt Lake City dream--a taco cart on every corner, and a Mormon evangelist on every doorstep. Thank god I live on the second floor.
 
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