Better, thanks to many.

7/26/2002

I had lunch with Bob, another guy who was on the last project with the Library of International Studies, this week. He still hasn't got a job either, but he's at least got some prospects with a corporate library. Despite the summer without work, Bob's gonna stick it out here in Boston. His fiancé works over at Harvard in government documents, so he's in a lot better shape, money wise, than I am. Of course, he's also planning a big Catholic wedding in Charleston, South Carolina, so in a way he's working without getting paid. We went to the Million Year Picnic in Harvard Square, and perused their most excellent 'zine selection. We also had a nice lunch where we talked about comic books, preservation work, preserving comic books, and the cultural divide between the north and the South.

And after that, Bob quietly ranted about how victors write history wile we walked along the Storrow Drive in Cambridge, where the riverfront is so carefully manicured. I could tell he needed too get the "stupid yankee" crap out to somebody who was sympathetic. I know because I've been there. I love Boston, and I'm sorry I have to go, but it's going to be nice to swim in my own culture again, no matter how messed up it can be. With the lack of good archives jobs out there right now, I've been looking at idealist.org and thinking about maybe working for a non-profit, an organization for positive change in the South. If I have to go back home, maybe I can make a difference in the way some things happen down there. Not a big difference, but I'd be happy if I could have an impact on just a few. I am an idealist. I believe that we can have cleaner air, a healthier attitude towards teen sexuality and better schools. Changes do happen, and sometimes for the better.

Thursday Kati sent me a loan to help with the move. She said it would cause her cognitive dissonance if I threw all my stuff out on the street and left Boston with just Mr. Puck and my computer. The loan came with a lovely letter. Take this money and watch the world turn green as you drive south.

Not a month of my life has passed in the past three years where I haven't been surprised at the positive effects of Scribbling Mob. That magazine - and the weird girl from my Brit Lit class who started it - has now caused yet another profound effect on my life. The following is a short list of some of the things Scribbling Mob has done for me:

Introduced me to amazing people

Taught me how to find grant money

Helped me break up with an asshole

Got me laid at least twice

Responsible for the re-introduction of comics in my life

Got me that interview with Radcliffe

Taught me how to motivate others

Exposed me to Photoshop for the first time

Helped me deal with literary shyness

Yes, a third wave feminist college production has changed my life. Well, a lot of that has to do with the absolutely amazing people who have been editors. I'm not exaggerating when I say that Christi, Dustin, Kati and Callie have totally been the people who circled the wagons around me this summer while I've been about the process of relocating my life all the way down the eastern seaboard.

Matt and James down at the comic book store in Kenmore square had a neat carton of flattened boxes waiting for me Wednesday morning. So all of my belongings, once they're on the Scribbling Mob moving truck, will be in Comicopia's boxes.

The next week will be full of decisions about what to keep and what to toss as I start my life all the way over again. It's actually a lot of fun. What if we could physically decide what to keep and what to toss in our lives? What if getting rid of a troublesome memory, habit, or past event was as simple as picking the memory up and tossing it in the dumpster? Things are getting better, and I know it.