For A Light
How am I going to use this coming vacation to find myself another job? Visit some of the old haunts and people I worked with in Napa? Put a toe in the water? Walk the buildings in my area to see what companies may be closeted inside? Search the Internet? Under what? Old farts and photographs? OK. I can do that.
Thoughts to end a long day. The old grind. They will push us until we drop (out) and replace us as necessary. Sure, I know the company infra-structure better than anyone who might come in, but nothing that can't be picked up by someone who knows the technical side, nothing that I couldn't pick up in a few months with a smile and overtime. So there's no light, you understand, at the end of the tunnel. There's just a tunnel, a never ending tunnel interspersed by brief flashing shafts of light called weekends. And vacations. Like the one I have coming.
Nice crisp sunny day, by the way. Light jacket weather. I walked to work stopping to have breakfast and read the paper at a place I haven't visited for a while, then hit the ground running and ran and ran and ran. Walked over to the City Center for lunch to eat a salad outside at one of the tables, camera cradled on my lap, watching. Sounds a little creepy, doesn't it? I didn't mean it that way, didn't feel that way. I'd sat at the same table last Saturday, no more than two or three people in the Center, the sky looking like rain, waiting for another commercial airliner to descend on the flight path to Oakland, waiting to catch its reflection in the mirror-like windows of the building opposite. Now that was a little creepy, so I picked up and walked on. Waiting to catch the reflection of a commercial airliner in a building's windows. I do need a change?
I said I was out of photographs and I am. Have no idea what to use these next few weeks. Go back to some of the earlier sheets of negatives, see what I may have missed? I skipped the Veteran's Day parade; I skipped the Solano Stroll; I skipped half of last year, come to think of it, not sure why I should be surprised. Things come along. Photographs happen. The world turns, even for those of us who live in tunnels, watching for a light.