Week Three

I forgot to mention that I had to work at the Visitor Center during the second week, then again, it's not really worth mentioning since all I did that day was act as a receptionist, answer questions I didn't know the answer to, and feel useless.

Working this week at the Eve site, I made a stupid mistake and didn't wash out my rubber gloves. Throughout the day little pebbles and bits of cement worked its way to my fingertips and grinded at them like sandpaper. By 4:30, when we all had a beer and sat around, I examined these fat red welts on the tops and sides of my fingertips. For the rest of the week, I wore band aids, although it didn't help the pain, and neither did Goldbond or Neosporin. When it got cold in the afternoon, my fingers lit up in agony, especially if they were wet. I was literally the opposite of E.T.

The Hive house from the outside appears as a combination of Dr. Seuss drawings and the Flintstones' house, with a bit of acid thrown in. It's painted in green and flesh colored ripples, with a small red glass steeple on the top. Inside are smooth wood floors, soft blue walls, and random pillars. Most interns hang out upstairs in the sun room because of the outlets, couches, sociability, and most importantly, warmth. The house is cold at night, and for the whole month I slept with Icelandic wool socks and a sweatshirt.

Funnily enough, many of the things my mom insisted I bring randomly displayed their usefulness. The medical supplies were excessive until I got all those blisters. The extra sweatshirt was redundant until I needed one for work as well as sleep. The bag clips were retarded until I started eating Kettle chips along with everyone else.

As Alicia and I plastered adobe over the dome at the Eve site, we talked about our relationships. Ahmed had been her landlord, and over time they spent more time together and she ended up not renting a room for herself as she was basically living in his. She asked how I met my girlfriend.

"I was drunk at a party," I replied. She laughed.

We spoke a bit about astrology although I don't really believe in it. I still don't know how Aquarius is an air symbol instead of water. I also brought up the seven deadly sins the night before, and how we could characterize the other interns in terms of sin. Nick was gluttony, I was lust, and Alicia was pride, although I insisted she was greed due to her playing of Settlers of Cattan. Ahmed said he used to be lust as well, but is now pride, and that he was a bit of a wild man at a young age. I told him he was probably like me and he laughed.

As we slapped adobe patties on aluminum cans, Alicia and I spoke more about relationships. She told me that when you pick up on a fault of another person, such as greed, it is because you contain a bit of that fault as well. Kind of like "takes one to know one," but better. You don't need to be a complete libertine to detect another, but you probably share some attributes, especially if you tell them about it. You relate to each other. You're on the same level.

Luke, Sarah, Sean, Ashley, and these other interns Sam, Ben, Glen and I went to a hot spring outside. Sean drove the big blue bus there and we hiked the rest of the way carrying towels and beer. I had decided to come at the last second and jumped in the bus with a towel, extra pair of boxers, long sleeve shirt, and a bottle of tequila. The spring was cut into the side of a cliff at the bottom, like a hot bowl next to the icy river. We relaxed and drank and when it was nighttime we trudged back up. I led the way bare chested and gripping the tequila bottle by the neck. When Ashley started the bus, it stalled and started to roll backwards towards the cliff. Someone casually said "uh...we're going backwards," and Ashley got the bus going, although it was having significant trouble getting uphill. Our slight anxiety quickly vanished when the tequila was passed around and drained in a few minutes. Soon we were hollering and lighting bottle rockets out the windows.

Ariel, another intern I met, works full time at the Visitor Center and is an accomplished folk singer. She can't jam very well, but I think it's nerves and not lack of skill. She has a lovely voice and oftentimes sings in the sun room while everyone is on their computers or playing Settlers. She has a dreamlike kind of voice and giggles a lot. I think she'd make a great character in a book, and I'm a little envious of this, because I don't think I'm be much of one.

Some may say calling someone is a character is an insult, but I think it's a compliment. Granted, some characters can be totally one dimensional, but those are the poorly written or unimportant ones, like out of Twilight. A great character is someone that has many sides to them, like a die being rolled, with different strengths and faults and hobbies and hates and fears and humor to be discovered. Think of Hamlet or Tyler Durden. These are people that whole classes could be dedicated to. My life goal is to be a famous writer, but I think a worthy secondary would be to become a great character. If I was both in any place in the world, I'd be set.