Since writing never paid too many of my bills, I go to work every day like the rest of the world. I have my morning routine, as well as a healthy love for the coffee gods.
After the sound of my alarm clock, I rub the sleep from my eyes and wash my face. I brush my teeth. Then my body turns automatic and somehow knows which way to go.
Like so many others, I am at the commuting mercy of The Long Island RailRoad. I board the train into Manhattan, find a seat, and then I wire music to my ears.
The music is important. Otherwise, I find myself listening to the static of inconsiderate people on their cell phones. I use music to drown the chatter of people that talk too loudly.
Instead of listening to useless noise, I wire music to my ears, tune out the loudness, and sink into my 47 minute train ride.
As I write to you, I am sitting next to the window on a train. I am facing east, but the train is heading west. The sun is beginning to make its appearance, and the sky is changing color. I assume a view like this would be better from the beach at Point Lookout. But for now, I lean my head against the window and watch as my hometown fades in the distance.
In a short while, my body will switch gears. The train will head beneath the underground tunnels that lead us to Pennsylvania Station. The doors will open…the train will empty, and again, this all becomes very automatic.
I will gather my things and make my way up the steps. By the time I head up the escalators on 34th St, there will be sunlight, and Thursday morning will already be underway.
I will walk down the street, make my lefts and rights, and then I will head to job I’ve been working at for more than a decade.
I will, “Punch my card,” as the old timers say. Then I will change into my uniform, get dirty, eat lunch, clean up, go home, and repeat the process.
Work has busy lately. I am about to deal with more than 300,000sqft of construction. As a Building Engineer, I have demolition to deal with, pipes to relocate, and drains to cap off.
Recently, we opened some of the structural columns on the west side of the second floor. Behind the brick and terracotta, the beams we revealed have not seen daylight since 1927. This, of course, proves the old cliché is true….. “They don’t make’em like they used to.”
This is me……Monday through Friday and whenever else they ask me to come in
Until I perfect the magic in my trick, this is what I do for a living. This is my day, and when my day is done, I punch my card and go home.
Over the years, I have learned to endure. I have learned ways to make my life easier and I have become better at what I do.
But that’s what happens…..
Back when I was a kid, The Old Man used to tell me, “I don’t care what you want to do. You wanna dig ditches? Dig ditches….but if you want to be good at anything, you’re going to have to work at it.”
That’s why I write to you so often. I write to perfect my magic so that one day, maybe, I can pull off my trick.
Have a good one, folks
The Written Addiction 