||[Jul. 7th, 2006|04:56 pm]
|||||5 o'clock beech leaves||]|
So, I'm excited about my new job at the crazy mansion with the archivist who is brilliant and approximately ninety years old and knew the emigre psychoanalysts in Boston way back when. Also Murray who is bound and determined to have me write historical essays, dear God, and the one young guy, Steve, who appeared suddenly today and looks like a much taller version of Ben Bixby. I'm not perfectly sure what they want me to do yet and am I qualified for all this. So excited I almost forgot yesterday, when I searched for old classmates on Myspace (which by the way is SUCH a bad idea) and wanted to sink into the ground when I saw how many of them are already making money, going places, NOT that I'm jealous or anything...sour grapes, lack of so-called disabling neurological quirks, & co. On the other hand of course-- Item #1 of reasons for becoming an archivist: to govern my own tiny country of books, papers and photographs with grace and dignity and fairness.