Thursday, March 29th, 2018
Melville, New York.
Here I sit, at a front desk in a day hab site for individuals for autism. There’s another front desk down the hall with windows behind it. Now that’s a front desk. I feel like I’m at a side desk. There’s no window here except for the door that leads into the vestibule, which has a glass window on it. But from where I sit, the angle doesn’t allow me to see anything outside. It’s supposed to be raining today. Is it yet? Is the sun out?
Is the sun out for baseball? It’s Opening Day today. I was a huge New York Mets fan. Huge. Since July 7th, 2017. That was the day the Mets were in Houston, playing against the Astros. It was like the bottom of the 14th inning. The Mets were on defense. A base hit wouldn’t won it for Houston. The ball was hit hard to deep center field. Carlos Beltran ran back, his head squarely up, chasing the ball. He stumbled up Tal’s Hill, one of the most ridiculous things a baseball could ever have. It was basically an incline located deep center field. Robbing home runs would’ve been tough enough in such a deep park.
Anyway, Carlos Beltran stumbled up that hill and made a miraculous catch. I was a New York Mets fan since then. And they won the game three innings later. I don’t remember how.
I was a Mets fan when John Maine threw a one-hit shut out against the Marlins on the second to last day of that season. When Tom Glavine gave up seven runs in the first inning to close out a 2007 collapse. When Johan Santana gave the Mets a chance on the second to last day of the 2008 season. The last game at Shea. The injuries of 2009. The trade that gave up Zack Wheeler. Matt Harvey’s first start, where you could tell, he was going to be special. He was attacking the inside of the plate. The R.A. Dickey trade for Thor and D’Arnaud. The 2015 World Series run.
But I haven’t been watching since. Not in 2016. Nor 2017. I haven’t had the time. Only for basketball. I guess I lost my appreciation for the beauty of baseball. Instead, I would rather have time. Baseball could go on for over three hours. Basketball is 48 minutes non-stop scoring plus timeouts and free throws and halftime.
What was I talking about? Oh. My day.
I had two people who looked like they were trying to check what I was doing. They are people of position who are capable of giving me something to do. I would rather not. I would rather just stay on standby and practice my writing. I think it’s average, if not above average. I should describe more.
This desk is messy. It’s disorganized and cluttered. Even as I have my focus on the computer screen, typing this, the mess is all in my peripheral vision. So many office supplies and paper that needs to be organized. What’s the point of having a fake flower around? Maybe because there isn’t a window here. Never mind that point. Why are their pebbles in the jar. Maybe because there isn’t a window here to look out at the rocks in the large parking that is barely filled. Never mind that point as well.
“Tiffany, come here.”
I wish I could share details about where I work. There are so many things I could write about. What’s wrong. What’s right. What’s working. What needs more work. But I don’t want to undermine my work nor the people here. All in all, though, they are doing a good service. What I do, I just stand by. Watching.
Is that my point? I’m learning by watching. This was supposed to be an entry describing my day. But I didn’t learn anything watching the Mets. I don’t know. Rambling now. Stop. Just stop.