Thursday, January 22, 2004
Nice view...
I have a window.
Not that having a window is something new for me. It's not as if I've lived a windowless existence until now, wondering if only there were some way that I could see the outside world from inside a building, only to be amazed and shocked at the newfound clear glass pane in front of me. As a matter of fact, I've experienced windows for pretty much my entire life. I'd even go so far as to say that pretty much every house and apartment in which I've lived have had several windows, some of which I could claim as my own.
My current temporary assignment has placed me in a cubicle with a big lovely window, one that I don't have to share with anyone in my isolated little corner, the only sound the clacking of keyboard and the soft voice of the woman who is showing me the ropes.
The view from this 7th floor cubicle is hardly breath-taking, with visions of the rooftops and parking garages of Glendale. But over and past the buildings I can see the mountains. And on a breezy clear day like yesterday I can see downtown Los Angeles, deceptively pristine from my eastern San Fernando Valley vantage point.
During lunch I took a short walk to a nearby restaurant and I realized anew that I'm a big city girl. Maybe it's just a reaction against the past month of no work followed by a day and a half in the unattractive industrial parks of Pacoima. The tall buildings and bustling lunch-goers that surrounded me gave me an odd sense of belonging. It was almost the same feeling that assailed me when I when I first worked outside the Valley, for a media buying corporation on Sunset Blvd. I loved the energy of the area, so very different from the more staid Simi Valley - where I had lived - and western San Fernando Valley - where I had previously worked. As surreal as it all seemed to me, I felt at home.
Then again, I'm also very much in love with a place like Lake Tahoe. Maybe I'm just very adaptable.
Yesterday was fairly quiet, but I actually worked for most of it - unlike at the fulfillment warehouse - diving into making collection calls to various vendors (and don't think I don't see a certain amount of irony in that). And I know that once I'm set up on the computer I'll be kept busy, but I don't think it'll be crazy. That'll be a nice change. After the high volume of A/R work I did at Lions Gate I almost feel relaxed.
I think my next step is to see if I can play music very softly. Because it's actually a little too quiet in the office, half-empty due to the Disney layoffs that caught me in 2001.
Yep, a trouble-maker. That's me alright.
Not that having a window is something new for me. It's not as if I've lived a windowless existence until now, wondering if only there were some way that I could see the outside world from inside a building, only to be amazed and shocked at the newfound clear glass pane in front of me. As a matter of fact, I've experienced windows for pretty much my entire life. I'd even go so far as to say that pretty much every house and apartment in which I've lived have had several windows, some of which I could claim as my own.
My current temporary assignment has placed me in a cubicle with a big lovely window, one that I don't have to share with anyone in my isolated little corner, the only sound the clacking of keyboard and the soft voice of the woman who is showing me the ropes.
The view from this 7th floor cubicle is hardly breath-taking, with visions of the rooftops and parking garages of Glendale. But over and past the buildings I can see the mountains. And on a breezy clear day like yesterday I can see downtown Los Angeles, deceptively pristine from my eastern San Fernando Valley vantage point.
During lunch I took a short walk to a nearby restaurant and I realized anew that I'm a big city girl. Maybe it's just a reaction against the past month of no work followed by a day and a half in the unattractive industrial parks of Pacoima. The tall buildings and bustling lunch-goers that surrounded me gave me an odd sense of belonging. It was almost the same feeling that assailed me when I when I first worked outside the Valley, for a media buying corporation on Sunset Blvd. I loved the energy of the area, so very different from the more staid Simi Valley - where I had lived - and western San Fernando Valley - where I had previously worked. As surreal as it all seemed to me, I felt at home.
Then again, I'm also very much in love with a place like Lake Tahoe. Maybe I'm just very adaptable.
Yesterday was fairly quiet, but I actually worked for most of it - unlike at the fulfillment warehouse - diving into making collection calls to various vendors (and don't think I don't see a certain amount of irony in that). And I know that once I'm set up on the computer I'll be kept busy, but I don't think it'll be crazy. That'll be a nice change. After the high volume of A/R work I did at Lions Gate I almost feel relaxed.
I think my next step is to see if I can play music very softly. Because it's actually a little too quiet in the office, half-empty due to the Disney layoffs that caught me in 2001.
Yep, a trouble-maker. That's me alright.
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United States, California, Los Angeles, San Fernando Valley, English, Carol, Female, 36-40.
