fun in san luis obispo

my clothes are hanging
on the clothesline: A green Starbucks apron, a shirt promoting New York, and a cycling jersey. That about sums up my present state of mind.

When i first started working at Starbucks, i thought that i'd taken a step down by working at a place requiring a uniform. It couldn't be a grownup job if I had to wear closed toe shoes, khakis, black or white oxford or polo, and an apron. But then i remembered the other jobs requiring uniforms :: firemen, nurses, doctors, policemen, chefs -- all of the occupations that we envisioned as children.

There's something very tangible about jobs requiring props and/or uniforms. i'm currently in a place where i'm happy to be able to define my activities with external symbols.

CEOs, mailroom clerks, and managers have the same stuff hanging out to dry. yawn.

Why i love working at Starbucks

Exhibit A:
Today I learned that the frenchman ordering two doppio espressos has paint on his hands because he paints houses and canvases. His name is Jean.

[concord]

continued
I haven't been writing much over the past few months, and it's because i just haven't felt inclined to post my thoughts here.

I recall starting this journal because there are a number of advantages to reading about my past. I can't describe what it's like to read my journal and relive memories and look back at my old self. For this reason, i will continue writing, but most likely in my unpublished journal.

Maybe in a few months, i'll feel the urge to post here again. But for now, consider this an announcement of my sabbatical.