Jump

It's gotten to the point where I can almost tell when he's crying through the instant messenger. Honestly though, that's not a terribly difficult feat as it seems like he's always crying.

First love is a truly terrible thing. I wish I could explain this so that those of you who have not yet experienced this will believe me, but that just isn't how life works. Perhaps you'll remember my words in the back of your mind and then, someday, come back here and read them in a fresh light if you find they might apply to you.

He's sick to his stomach and shaking a little through the tears.

First love, the first time you really truly believe it is going to work out, is an intoxicatingly beautiful thing. You absolutely and wholeheartedly believe that you have struck a bond with a person that you will never find in anybody else again. Slowly, you feel comfortable with that person. Over time you feel you have grown so you mentally fit well together like you have with nobody else, and the thought of life without this person becomes unimaginable.

This is, in fact, precisely why these relationships can be so damaging.

Two people, on a very logical and grossly over-simplified level, will remain together so long as they believe that their life together is better than their life would be apart. When the idea of not being with somebody begins to be considered impossibly unimaginably bad, the relationship will continue to exist even when the situation is unimaginably bad minus one. When you believe that you will never find a bond with another human like you do with the first person you really love, life apart begins seeming infinitely worse, and this brings us back to my sobbing inconsolable friend.

***

The two white weathered shelves stood abandoned in the driveway.

His truck is this bizarre sort of contraption, even by the standards of a girl who spent a year trolling around in Magpie's frankenjeep. It's a low-to-the-ground truck, still outfitted with the tool enclosure the previous owner put on it from when it was an electrician's truck.

"Man I love Craigslist."

He opens the back and together we tip the first shelf so it can be carried to the truck.

"Huh," I ask, "You carry an extra mattress in your truck?"

"What?"

I looked at him for a minute. I knew guys who kept mattresses in the back of their trucks during highschool for various sketchy purposes, but we were both adults and that would be highly unusual.

It was very quiet.

"I suppose," he adjusted some wire baskets hanging from the ceiling, "I never showed you where I live."

I poked my head in, "It's like a spaceship, with little rattle-proof lockers and every wall used."

"It's actually mostly from IKEA."

"...versatile solutions for modern living."

We loaded in the shelf, and now that he realized I was comfortable with his story he was grinning and recounting all of it. "My last apartment had black mold, my housemate moved out on me under doctor's orders that it was going to make him absurdly ill. In many senses my quality of living improved when I started living in this truck.

"Huh,"

"I save a lot of money this way."

"Yeah I can't see a downside really, well unless girls don't like it?"

"I actually lost my virginity in this truck anyway, and I did have an apartment."

"Yeah, you know, there are some things people just believe they can't live without, and they'll go through fairly extreme efforts to even have pale imitations of them."

"Yeah, that moldy apartment rented out again almost right away when I left."

***

"I plan my life out a lot. I always know what's coming."

"You don't think you miss some of the better opportunities by being so risk-adverse?"

***

"I hate my job."

"Yeah?"

"And so do you."

"Yeah"

"You want to be professional adventurers?"

***

"So he said 'you want to be professional adventurers?'"

"What the hell does that mean?"

"You know, quit your job, and go have fun."

"You can't do that."

There was a pause.

"You need money," he persisted.

"Well, we started working on getting some contacts so we could do freelance photography, pay for the costs of travel and such. You can live pretty cheaply if you put your mind to it..."

***

"Sometimes," my boss said, "I worry that you don't like this job."

I'm not sure I said anything to that.

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm God, Baby!"

A good machinist is hard to find.

The arrival of our first one predated my hiring only by a little, but he had already found time to fall behind on his work.

We knew we were meeting our new machinist that day, but after waiting for him for 20 minutes most of us had busied ourselves with our computers doing trivial work or trying to figure our if we had the time wrong. We barely noticed him when he wandered in: you don't normally expect strangers to show up on a federal base, and sometimes you just stop looking for them. The man wandered up to Tie-Dye's desk where he made himself comfortable, primarily by kicking his muddy shoes up onto my boss' keyboard. Tie-dye looked at him, then at me, then back at the man at his desk, trying to piece together what was going on.

"Excuse me," it was Tie-dye's very politest voice, "but, who are you?"

The machinist casually laced his fingers behind his head and pressed his feet into the desk to lean back, "Who me? I'm God, baby!" Turning to one side, he made a little clicking noise at Daniella and nodded at her in a manner I'm sure he thought was devastatingly attractive.

***

She was livid, "You have got to get rid of him."

Crash always believes in the best of everybody, "Aww now, I know you've had your misunderstandings... but he does great work..."

"You don't make Holocaust jokes to jews."

"How would he have known you were Jewish?"

***

I'm not sure if it was the fact that he tried to randomly purchase magnesium (a rather flammable metal) instead of aluminum, that he randomly powder-coated a component likely to overheat in black and billed the project for it, or the fact that he tried to make the body with tack-welds which fell apart. Personally, I was most amused by when Daniella tried to have a talk with him so they could sort out their differences and learn to get along, and he accused her of "trying to get him alone because she wanted him." No matter the cause, it wasn't very long until we sent him on his way.

"Fuck it," Crash threw the powder-coated tack-welded sheet metal box aside in annoyance, "I wouldn't use it as a urinal."

The next machinist misprogrammed an expensive CNC mill so that it thought the metal wasn't some place it was. It did a full plunge through the workpiece's surface, got stuck there, grabbed the part we were working on, shook it like a rag-doll, ripped it in half, and dragged the top half out of the vice and into the ceiling of the machine so it could trash that for good measure.

The next machinist hid his files on a secret server and regularly threatened to not let anybody have his work when he believed his paycheck was late. He was, in reality, one of the only ones being paid on time.

Another one sprayed Sys with a can of compressed air for cleaning things, turning it upside down so it sprayed it in liquid form. He thought it was pretty funny, but Sys got a hospital trip for the burn.

A good machinist is hard to find.

Dress Up

There's a new girl with purple hair here handing me a ukulele. "Do you know how to play?"

"No," I take it anyway and imitate her in picking out the guitar opening to 'Brown-eyed-girl.' It's a shame Ginger and Giraffe aren't here, they fucking hate this song.

Enron lags a little behind us, smartphone pressed against his face, one finger from his other hand covering the opposing ear, "No Jason, that isn't what we agreed to..." He's interviewing a candidate at noon just as we finish lunch, and discussing the results of it with his peers as we wander the next beach. He's got somebody calling him to schedule an appointment during the car ride home, and when we get back to the Torii he paces the front lawn working out the details.

"It's alright," Kaleidoscope laughs, "I looked at Nexus, I realized what a CEO was, and I knew exactly what I was getting in to when I decided to date him."

He's on the phone a few weeks later in the park, and he's huddled over his laptop while Kalei(doscope) and I are enjoying a beer. I'm not about to tear into Enron for being so involved in his work. He's as happy a person as any of us, and this is what he would do for fun anyway.

***

"I can't fucking believe this."

DC giggles and covers the microphone on the radio, "Hush a minute, we can't swear on the radio."

I can hear Sid's voice over the crackle through the radio, "You guys will never make it in that car..."

"Well if it's got to die, right in front of the dorms isn't a bad place..."

"WY1HBT here," the radio chirps, "I got this covered."

"Who's that?" I ask my carmates.

DC grins, "Whacker."

A few minutes later Whacker rolls up in an oversized truck grinning from ear to ear. There's a yellow lightbar bolted to the top of the truck, and seems like he just couldn't be more excited to be jumping the car.

"What's with him?"

"He's proud to be saving the day."

***

If I had known it was going to be this sort of party I probably would have tried to find some less ratty jeans to wear. The bar is full of people who believe they are slick and sophisticated. It is somewhat amazing to watch the similarities between people flirting and explaining their business plans to one another. I can watch streams of my contacts interact with one another from the balcony, and they all believe they're very important and influential.

***

"Yeah," he says taking a drink, "You see a lot of stuff."

"We had a sophomore come up with doll-eyes a few weeks ago."

"Oh for the love of CHRIST," CoLo looks exasperated, "No more EMS talk at parties!"

***

"It's like playing dress-up,"

We're back in the Torii parking lot, watching Enron pace around on his phone, and Kalei is giving me a very puzzled look. "But it's real..."

"That doesn't mean they're playing any less!"

I can watch Kalei trying to be very very patient with me.

"It's all just games. It's no different from when we were small and pretending to be important, except that, as a side effect of pretending for so long, some of these people actually made it real. That isn't the point, though, because they're still just playing. They don't do all this theater because it's needed. They do it because they love it, because they enjoy being the important person they dreamed of more than they enjoy the actual tasks of the job."

Kalei laughs, "Maybe we should get him a pretty princess hat..."