Let's try to remember the week. Monday...hmmm...nope, nothing. I think I worked all day. Safe guess. Gym at night. Tuesday and Wednesday were twins - work then Yankee game, where I fiercely represented my fanship with my beloved hat - Tuesday was a very good game, Wednesday was a good game right until the very bad end. Here's a fun shot from Tuesday.
Thursday work then gym. And now we're at today. What a long Friday. Fridays in the summer are supposed to be short. Yeah...pff. Still not finished with The damn Project I have to a damned presentation on. If you can't tell, I'm not excited about it. Spent the morning fooling with it. Then, at 11am, our director and our HR rep for the roughly 25 on our team conducted an annual ritual that I find quite bizarre - reviewing our Gallup Poll results with us. That's a whole blog post in and of itself that I don't know I'd be entirely comfortable listing while I still work for the company.
By the time the meeting was over, it was nearly the 2pm deadline for Fridays. No where close to being ready with my project. But cute trainees and assistants want me to go with them to see Open Water (post below). I bend then swiftly break under temptation. This is the summer of the movie theater for me, anyway, so let's keep with tradition. Nice stadium seating in the beautiful AMC theater just off of Times Square on 42nd. That place will go under in a hurry, no doubt. Movie was short, like 90 or so mins.
Off to Morris' salon to zip the dome. We are white on top again. Back to the office to re-convene filing and general avoidance of completing The Project. Its because I haven't been given the requisite training to perform on this level, and figuring everything out on my own is taking a long freakin time. After a short while I'm done with anything significant and reviewing the movie. Off to the gym with you, fatty!
Gym closed. Its that late already? Chinese food and home, then. Argh. Must run in morning, before returning to damn office. Must go on long run.
Tomorrow is breakfast with Morris to catch up, then run, then office, then Texan is in town again, so que sera sera for the evening. Sunday church, perhaps, in the morning (we like our evening church and take a couple Sundays, but only a couple, in the summer, to avoid the city and just be at peace in the morning).
There was a man in a wheelchair at the bottom of the stairs in the 42nd St. subway station today. (This subway station screams Times Square as loudly as all the sights and sounds above it - it is a marvel of its own). He was dirty, like someone that has a small place of his own, but its run down and he shares it with many people. A man who didn't have much, let's just say. He had a boombox next to him, and the necessary receptacle for profferings, and played a trumpet. He was good, I listened as I walked down the stairs, before I came around the corner to where I could see him. Even as he paused between bursts to talk up a young Japanese girl who had just donated and was talking to him about his daughter, he sounded good. His daughter was asleep, on the ground, next to him. Maybe 10 years old. On cardboard, covered in blankets. I don't think they lived in the streets, but perhaps they did. I hope not. She was cute, as most kids are when they're sleeping. Dirty, like the man, but cuteness shines through. I paused to give him the change in my pocket. I always support the public musicians - I feel its very important, even if they're not that good (which, I've found, is very, very rare). I wish I had stopped and talked to him, caught his story. If I ever see him again, I will. The scene would have made a really wonderful picture.
I like living here right now.
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