Posted on July 26, 2017July 26, 2017 I got a rash on my arm at work and went home early (I suspect it was the chipboard from Blick), but took a detour and got a haircut and felt a lot better after I got a haircut. I tip my hairdresser 30% because she always ends up having to get paint out of my hair. She really gets my hair. She really gets why I get my hair cut the way I get it cut. She really gets why I never change it up. She really tries to get me to change it up. She really–I like her well enough. I always try to cheat on her, but never do. I think it’s because she’s the minority in the bunch–the whole salon (whatever!!!) bills themselves as _ hairdressers (adjectivize with _ in NY and you’ve got it blanking made). Who cares, it’s just hair. I’ve got a head of perfectly straight hair, who cares. The only thing I hate about sitting there is sitting in front of the mirror. I usually sit through the whole cut with my eyes closed. I open my eyes when my hairdresser completes the cut and tucks my hair behind my ears. Presto done looks blanking good peace. I have hair rules like school uniform dress code hullabaloo. Work update: Intern III, who _ her # _ _ the other week is doing well. If the principals knew what treats I bought her with their money, they would tell me I was being excessive and I would say something like Don’t cheap out on the person who lost # _ trying to make u happy. The female principal’s voice has been getting on my nerves. The male principal’s whole presence is really just hella masc lately and really fuck him. Captain Yale treats me like a subhuman; I do the same to him a la Treat others how you want to be treated. I spent the day laughing at him while he was on the phone with real estate agents re properties for a project he is working on with the male principal: Think you’re gonna land a spot when the person you parrot can’t even pay us all on time? Think again u blank. Project manager is overly talented to be there. I don’t know why she puts up with it. Intern I is leaving at the end of the week. I like how well we joke around each other. Corona swimsuits. Intern II is being abused by Captain Yale and is completing drawings he should be cobbling together last minute. I hope she takes the office off her post-grad employers list. Intern III, addressed. Intern IV has been cramping my style and is loud Loud LOUD when’s he’s in the model shop. Last thing I said to him Please don’t throw or slam the tools. I don’t get entitled kids whose parents put them up off-campus around 14th Street while they’re in college. That’s the best way to guarantee yr kid won’t figure shit out. Maybe I just don’t like people who don’t list–who interrupt others. That’s what I decided today. I’m never going to interrupt another person ever again, unless it’s the male principal running his mouth about how they’re the best / most deserving / most capable architects in the city. I think the best architects in this city are those who have their pride in check. Who know the few things they do well, who value their employees and interns by paying all of them. Runny eggs, runny nose, runny thoughts. So I left work because of the chipboard rash and I really felt queasy while working in the office because Intern I was in there with me and she’s the one who witnessed Intern III’s accident, and after the accident and up until now, I hear Intern I’s initial verbal reaction seconds after she witnessed Intern III’s _. She called the Project Manager’s name across the office in a hyper specific tone. I kept hearing this in the back of my head and kept–god, I positioned my _ so far away from. I can’t write about it. Intern I and I agreed that, had what happened to Intern III happened to us, we’d be pissed and that either of our parents would sue. Intern I said it best It was just stupid, it all happened for REALLY, NOTHING. I think I’m done with the work update. I left my book at the hairdresser’s. A Gass, used, that happened to be signed. I want to scratch my arm with sandpaper. I want to find a better job that requires me to push work out of my hands. I want to find a better job where people value routine, their lives and intellectual development outside the office, eating dinner at the same time and outside the office every night. By now, it’s just more runny thoughts and I just want to work for architects who don’t need a Captain Yale / “creative director” (bullshit) / parrot (which this—🐦—is likely not).