I currently have two part-time jobs. I’m not exactly sure how it happened, but I’m busier than ever and it’s actually not too bad. I prefer to be busy, because then I feel forced to manage my time and actually get things done. All in all, it’s been a mixture of interesting, frustrating, and wow-this-is-so-much-like-studio.
About Job A: On the weekend (only a few hours), I teach three high school kids who are preparing for the SAT and I feel like they want to drive me crazy. I think all teenage boys are the same – immature and apathetic. Maybe if I taught them individually it would have been okay, but when they’re together … mayhem.
About Job B: I’m working for an architecture firm part-time on weekday afternoons. I basically do a lot of SketchUp and AutoCAD busy work, which is fine. I’m still getting used to paper sizes like A0, A3, and A4, but I spent a few hours folding A0-sized sheets the proper architecture-y way, and it was kind of fun. It’s a lot like studio with fast-approaching deadlines, “lying” in drawings, and late nights. Last Thursday we got dinner from 7-11 (the office building actually has its own 7-11) and I got off work around 11, but thankfully that’s not typical.
I’m getting paid peanuts, but it’s all good so far.
Yesterday morning I took part of the SAT. Oh standardized testing, how I have NOT missed you. Blah. Anyway, so I think I might have a job, a different one. This one would be to teach the SAT and some AP tests. The last one, which was to teach a public-speaking class in English kind of fell through, mostly because the boss guy didn’t really have his deal together and was annoying me.
Anyway, all went well. I made my own lunch – pasta. Easy, right? The classic staple “I don’t know how to cook, but I’m hungry” food. Went through a lot of pasta (of all different shapes) with Roommates 3 and 4. Especially 4. Wow, lots of pasta there. Fond memories. But hey now, I’m getting distracted. The reason why I bring attention to my luncheon of pasta is that it was supposed to be easy … if you have a can opener.
Who doesn’t own a can opener!? The pasta sauce was in a can (and expensive – yay for imported stuff). I searched all over the apartment and while the pasta was already boiling, I finally accepted that we own no can opener. I ended up opening the damn thing with a bottle opener and a garlic press. That was talent right there. I was darned proud of myself, and you should be too. Who knew making pasta could be such an adventure? But I have one question: Why do we have a garlic press yet no can opener?