The tricky bastards in the head office are cunning little devils; each day of orientation has been a half hour earlier. Tomorrow, I will arrive for breakfast and more droning encouragements, at 7:30am.
Things I have learned:
1. Everyday I have to sign in to work at 7:30am. If I do not sign in at 7:30am I get docked pay. So much for late start days.
2. I have several options to get to school, in the eyes of the powers that be: The Metro (subway) is one. It is crowded slow and will take about 30-40mins; a taxi, which is quick, but costly (about $2 each way); school bus, which is insanely slow, filled with little toilet mouthed Mexicans, but free.
3. I am going to find a bike route to work, and everyone ponce here thinks I am an ignorant gringo. The thing is, these people don't bike and they don't know. I am at least going to try it out. Shaun, I will be wearing a helmet.
4. Broken English is as funny as broken Spanish.
5. Payroll is confusing. Mexican taxes are confusing. ASF is a god damn money machine. Rich people sniff there own farts.
6. Lesbians make good teachers too: Two, presumably lesbian, women, who are in their 60's are teaching math. They moved here from Cairo or Dubai.
7. The subway is way hotter than life on the street.
8. I am white.
9. I need to be careful, because I am white.
10. I should pay more money, consistently, to secure my safety.
11. Rich people smell there own farts.
12. Walking in groups is an effective way to attract stares and ward of evil-doers.
13. I still like to draw pictures in small notebooks, while half listening to redundant, yet supposedly educational, speeches.
14. Some people you are attracted to, and others don't do much for you.
15. I want a job where I can bring my dogs to work.
Here is what hours of information produced in my small Moleskin notepad. It felt good to play with words again:
"Lord, information has hit a critical mass. I'm hoping the next hours melt away into a series of short diatribes. Bureaucracy is a beautiful bucolic beast: a beast with six slurring heads, amplified vocals, varicose veins, blubber laden limbs, and a goddamn innate ability to waste one's time. It's 11:15am, I've been here since 8am and 2pm is running the opposite direction. My mind has ceased to wonder about anything of importance; it's hiding from the verbal napalm that ceases to carpet my frontal lobe."
"12pm: The beat drags on. Nervous tapping and twitching of various appendages is the slow cadence to oblivion. Information flows like spoiled milk from a stagnate and sagging utter. So it goes, Billy. "Who is eh-ledge-uh-bull for dis? For dis cuh-fur-edge?" I don't know. I don't care. I don't wear any underwear. Every bastard locked in this room is accepted for this cuf-fur-edge! Insurance is insurance is insurance: Profits are the true medicine. Insurance, the true serpant in the garden, breathes pesos like dollars; it doesn't matter who bit the apple first, we all needed a cure, and the beat goes on. They keep warning us about self medicating at the pharmacy. I keep wondering why they keep talking? Their pep talk is making me want to become my own doctor."
It wasn't as bad as that seemed. The drone of their presentations was peppered with side conversations with other teachers. I walked to the subway with a new fellow English teacher, Tess, and a 2nd grade teacher, Trish. Both are interesting in their own right. We smiled, traded intellectual quips, and walked. Tess, is a Yale graduate, who has bummed around Mexico City for a few years as a writer. She is tall, dark in features and dress, blue eyed, and holds a quiet rebellious confidence. Two faded circle tattoos cuff the upper portion of her left forearm. Trish, is a Protland shaggy head sweetheart. She has hip brown boots, a sense of casual cool, and a cute smile. She reminds me of girls in Santa Cruz. Trish is into biking too. Trish likes to go out. Trish went to sleep at a late hour the other night.
Marissa and I are going to eat pastries now.
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