Mirrored Transitions

The new job progresses. Not smooth as glass -- no major blips -- but not a train wreck either. My last day at the cafe was surprisingly emotional. The owner hasn't taken the news of my leaving very well. He likes to believe that the people who work for him have no other attractive options, so he's genuinely surprised when one of his long-term employees (read, chattle) leaves for greener pastures.

As I make this transition, I'm reminded of how few authentic people there seem to be in the world. Or maybe it's just my skills of perception demonstrating their limitations. Everyone I seem to meet lately reminds of someone else I've known before. I'm trying to see these new people as individuals, to distinguish them as something other than carbon copies of a predessor, but it's very difficult.

The reason I think it's important for me to make these distinctions is because I'm really working on establishing new patterns, especially in my interpersonal skills. No doubt, part of my problem is that I view a new person as model #4503-B, so I make assumptions on what to expect and how they will behave. Eventually, I'm not disappointed. Either that means I'm incredibly insightful and my brilliance knows no bounds; or more likely, I'm only capable of processing incoming data into certain outputs. I can distinguish male and female, blond and brunette, nice and not nice, but I may not have developed the ability to discern beyond that. And since I can't process beyond a certain point, inevitably I repeat old patterns. This means that even the simplest social interaction is becoming a conscious process for me. I'm comfortable with that being the case for a while, but I hope it becomes more natural feeling soon.

Or, just as likely, I am over-thinking everything again. Either way, the trap here is getting caught in my mental maze and that is to be avoided at all costs.

On the good news front: I found a faster way home. It'll only be good for about another week until we relocate the office, but if nothing else this new job has quenched my annoyance when asked to travel to the suburbs. Or at least out to Skokie.

On the bad news front: Note the time I post this entry. My cat has developed the annoying habit of announcing when he's used the litter box, or taken a drink of water, or anything. Every night at between midnight and two o'clock, the serenade begins. I've had my cat for nineteen years and all of a sudden he's turned into an attention whore. Needy little bastard.