Today is a Jewish holiday, so the office is closed, and my bare ass is getting reacquainted with the morning sun. Whenever there is a holiday, people from human resources walk around handing out gifts to each employee that are, in some way, connected to the holiday. For Passover, there were strange cookies made from potatoes. For Purim, there were festive boxes. For Shavuot, today, there were potted plants. I was not thrilled about this, because I am not in a place, emotionally, where I can be responsible for a plant. Nobody came by to pick the plant back up, though, so it continued to sit on my desk. I watched it out of the corner of my eye for a while. Then the rabbi arrived, found his plant in his office, waited until I was away, and left his plant on my desk. We had a bit of a row over whether my job calls for me to be responsible for his damn plants. I lost, having no real leverage, and angrily stashed his plant in a file cabinet in the hallway. My plant was still sitting there when I got back. I sighed, rolled my eyes, and went to get some water for it.

The first roll of film from my lomo camera came back. As I suspected, I screwed up rewinding the film and exposed most of the pictures. Of the eight shots that remained, four look like laser wars in alien landscapes, and the other four are quite nice. That's lomo.

The rabbi and I were cruising (riding an inch and a half from other cars' bumpers) in his Escalade (his Corolla), sipping on Courvosier (going to pick up his laptop from a repair place on LaSalle), when, after a solid half-hour monologue, he paused and asked me what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. I said that I planned to write for the theater. He shook his head and said that I could do that as my avocation, but my vocation should be that of a scholar, and that I should not wait. Then he asked what my field would be. I shrugged and said that I was still interested in too many things to narrow it down. He announced that I would enter a program in study of the history of ideas, and then asked what languages I had. I told him that I knew some German and some Latin. "You will study the medieval period", he said. Then he dropped me back off at the office, and he went home. I am not entirely sure what to expect when I get to work on Monday. I'm a little nervous that he may have gone ahead and enrolled me in grad school somewhere.

I can't relate to these theists.