Fall Into The Gap.

Well, I fell into the Gap...Just kidding that was corny, but I did get a job there. I work in the men's store at the Mall of America. I like the bright lights, the busy atmosphere and all the new people. I don't think I own one piece of clothing from the Gap. When I went for my interview with the hiring manager I had to wait a few minutes while he was interviewing another person. After 10-15 minutes a cashier announced on a speaker that Angela Gray was ready for her job interview, and I swear the entire store turned and looked at me. They were all like "Good luck!" I have made so many trips to the mall lately both business and pleasure, I feel like I live there. I went there 2 or 3 times with my friend Ben to pick up applications and set up interviews to help get him a job, and with my friend Brandon to give his wardrobe a make over. I was honored he asked me for my fashion expertise, and I ended up having a fantastic time pulling different jeans off the racks, putting together shirt/pant combinations, and being the final approval to things coming in and out of the dressing room. I thought it was hilarious when I asked him what his pant size was and he didn't know. I actually ended up guessing the correct size for him. (Ever since I was a wrestling manager in high school I am strangely able to guess men's clothing sizes, weight and height.) I had complete and utter freedom to pick out whatever I wanted, and I loved it. He ended up looking great in the clothes he bought and I was surprised at how different the clothes were compared to his other clothes.

A week ago I began writing a book. This is technically my second full length (manuscript), but the first of it's nature. It is a very complicated piece of fiction to explain and I feel pity for the few close and dear people I have tried to explain it to. It has corrupt levels of government, illegal drugs, sex, alcohol, lies, secrets, twists, and surprises. It's exciting for me, and I love sitting down and having my fingers fly away on the keyboard with ideas. Fiction has really died out in the literary world which is really a misfortune to many avid readers. Personal narratives, autobiographies and memoirs have really risen in popularity though. I admit to taking a like to them, but sometimes I tire when reading about how someone fucked up and tries to entertain people by utilizing their misfortune and strife. I remember in an English lecture Garrison Keillor once said "I don't like memoirs, I think the government should have people shot for writing them."

In regards to my new job, transportation is slightly expensive, so I might occupy my friends vacant apartment. It has been suggested a few times previously, and I think it may be a good idea. The challenge will be only taking with me the necessities...I am infamous for packing my entire life everywhere I go. The apartment is fairly nice and quiet so I can have time to read, draw, paint and play my violin. I've been in an artsy fartsy mood lately. I get inspired easily. I remember when I was younger I used to sit in the sink of my bathroom and talk into an inflatable microphone pretending I was Oprah interviewing myself. I think for now, I will leave you with that image...

Blue Collared Shirt.

Last week my good friend Brandon and I went to go fill out applications for temp work at a staffing company. It was hilarious filling out the math section; there was this long division section (really takes you back) and these simplistic questions like "If Jane bought two hotdogs for .75 cents and 3 apple pies for $ 1.50 and gave you $ 10.00 dollars how much change would you give her?" It was entertaining for the afternoon; I must say Brandon is one individual whom I get along with so well and feel so comfortable with that I can literally do anything with him. We both ended up getting jobs- and soon entered the world of industrial employment...

I work in a factory. Literally, it is a packaging company and I work with machinery on a assembly line. (Think 8 Mile) My first day on the job I almost soiled myself! It was not what I was expecting at all, and my introductory greeting was "So do you have your steel toed boots?" Right away I ran out to my car to check the employment assignment sheet to make sure I was at the correct location. In deed I was. I hate to sound like such a "princess," but it's pure blue collar labor. It was like fucking culture shock to me- which is a parody in itself. This is America damnit, we're founded on industrial employment, assembly lines and blue collar work. (Hello, remember Henry Ford?) I basically wear a hard hat and operate machinery and do verbatim and simplistic tasks over and over for 8 hours straight. Besides the redundant tasks at hand, I enjoy the idea of working in a factory with hard working people. Although, when you get down to it, it's rather sad- I am a "working college student" and they are "working workers" so to speak. This is their life. I have no even reached my twenties. They are in their forties. I feel like I am not benefiting resume wise and I am not gaining any futuristic skills career wise. It does however, instill good working ethics and for that I am grateful. I am also grateful for the hard work my parents have accomplished to allow me the opportunities I have to educate myself. I feel so privileged to be able to earn an education.

It was quite humorous telling my parents and friends about my new position as a factory worker. It just bewilders me that all these factories and manufacturers exist right here in my hometown. All these companies running and operating to serve us. I really felt uncomfortable inside debating whether it was acceptable to me morally to think I was better in a sense than the people there. So much of me wanted to scream "I don't belong here!" So much of me wanted to calm myself by reiterating the fact that I could be in charge of these people someday- I could me mayor and working to establish better wages and benefits. It may suffice to get me by for that particular 8 hour shift, but it verges on complacency within me.