Monday, September 15, 2008
So it's pretty funny that today, on a whim, I signed up to take the next written exam for my local police department.
I don't know much about cops or police departments other than what I've gleaned from Law and Order: SVU, or from my firefighter relative's anecdotal comments about working with the local PD at fires or medical responses. I imagine that my ideas about what it means to be an anesthesiologist or a farrier or an astronaut are less fraught with stereotypes and misconceptions, and I know absolutely nothing about what having those jobs mean to one's life experience.
I have never, ever, ever been interested in being a cop. Or holding a gun or getting yelled at or shot at or whatever. Particularly as a child, I was easily spooked, and I still have issues with suspenseful movies. As much as I'd like to watch a scary scene, the impulse to cover my ears and hide behind a pillow is still, at the age of 28, pretty overwhelming.
Not to mention the ludicrous notion of a stripper-turned-cop. That idea keeps making me laugh, for some reason. Maybe just because it's me, and the whole pillow over the face thing is so prominent in my mind when I think of guns.
Therefore, It's highly unlikely that I'll actually become a police officer. But hell - I figured going through their (mercifully brief) exam process might be interesting. It goes to illustrate the vast disparity in career popularity that, while the fire department's application process takes from 12 to 18+ months long, with thousands of applicants each year, the local PD does the bulk of their testing in two days. The written and physical tests are on the same day, with the oral boards taking place the following day. Cake, comparatively. Not only that, but aside from the fairly massive local advertising campaign designed to drum up qualified police department applicants, I hear the local PD is advertising pretty heavily in all of the major east coast cities as well.
The tests aren't for a month and half, but I'll be sure to let you know how they go. In any case, I've got to get down to the peeps for my shift. I have a new regular that has been in every private booth I've had for the last two months. I'm working on a post about him, though I'm not sure I can put it up. He's well known to most of my coworkers (some of whom read this) and I want to respect his privacy. We'll see.
Q: What do police officers and firefighters have in common?
A: They all want to be firefighters.
- old firefighter joke that I first heard from a cop who is going through the fire department application process.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Check it: I haven't lifted weights in over two weeks.
I haven't not lifted weights in that long since I started training almost three years ago. I even managed to find a big gay camp with a big gay gym at Burning Man that I lifted at in 95+ degree weather. But since I've been home?
Can't. Make. Myself. Go.
It's not that I'm a slug. I've gone to my weekly spin class twice, gone on several bike rides, runs, have even done my dreaded stairs-with-a-weight-vest workout that makes my calves quake with fear at the thought of it. Other than that, all I've managed to do is toy with my standard core workout once or twice, slog through some pullups at my house, and half-heartedly attempt some pushups. That's it.
I see this as a sign of my enthusiasm waning. While in the past, I may not have been in love with the idea of working out as a whole, I always enjoyed lifting weights and paying particular attention to strengthening my upper body and core. Being strong and fit is a pretty big source of pride, even if I'm not nearly as strong and fit as I'd need to be if I were going through, say, a fire acadmey.
I hesitate to theorize as to why I'm suddenly not passionate and eager to pursue my dream, so to speak.
Instead, how about I post some pictures of me from Burning Man? I'd call these a reward for y'all after having to read my griping and missing kitty pleas, but I think in reality it's more that I'm showing off. Think of it as proof to myself that I am strong, and that continuing my training is a worthwhile endeavor. Because, seriously, those back muscles were not easily achieved (ahem - props, anyone?), yet could be very easily lost.
I thought you guys would appreciate that complete color shift between my desert-tanned upper half, and my desert-tanned-yet-dust-covered lower half. These pictures were taken in the midst of a dust storm. My campmate and I were actually fairly dust-free, given we were loitering and playing around in this rad free-standing wood structure that some Oregon strippers built, complete with a pole and stage, and a bar. One of the saucy ladies even gave me a short lesson on the pole. I may be a natural, as graceless as I am. Fun stuff despite the massive bruising, blisters, and soreness.
This picture on the right is a good example of how much dust is constantly in the air.
Any time your camera's flash goes off, it reflects the colossal amount of particulate matter suspended in the air all the time, with or without a dust storm.
Anyway, I think that's it for now. I'll be less grumpy tomorrow. I'm going on a hike. It's been beautiful in my city for weeks. I'm soaking it up. As for tonight, I have a bachelor party way out in the stix, almost two hours away. Unfortunately, I've done a show for these people before. Smoking, penny-pinching pet-owners who refuse to keep their large dogs out of the room while we're doing our show. Not like it matters - the floor was so thick with animal hair, it almost made the wood floor bearable to kneel on. To be honest, if I'd been told who they were when asked if I wanted to book the show, I'd have turned it down. That's not to say I won't go in with my game face and a good, friendly attitude; I'm just not expecting it to go that well, financially or otherwise. But hey - money is money, and at least I won't be disappointed.