Stress. I was stressed when I was without a job, and now that I have a good job, I am even more stressed out. It’s Thursday. I sat in a weekly meeting, which is something I will have to do each week going forward. Something I will have to get used to and participate in.

I work with really nice people, they see something in me that I don’t see. Bill sees it, Mike sees it. I do not. And it’s stressful. I don’t want to let them down, and I guess I do not want to let myself down. That voice in the back of my head, telling me the worst things about myself. I talk to these co-workers, and I guess I am saying the right things.

I take notes, and for the past two days, I took the initiative when the need arose. And my being proactive was noted and appreciated. My sleep patterns have been adjusted. I stayed up until Bill came home, and I was in bed by 10:00 PM. I was up a little after 6:00 AM. I shuffled along while Bill was already on the road.

I finished The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison and figured reading Gratitude by Oliver Sacks would be uplifting. I had read it before and forgot it was all leading to Oliver Sacks’ death. Tomorrow I am going to reread Sweet Soul Music by Peter Guralnick. That should be alright, I reckon.

My phone has been adding to my stress. Since July 2024, I have been having trouble charging it. The adapter would have to be carefully balanced into the slot, and it was going well since then. The past week or so, it’s been difficult. Stress levels grew.

I figured it was going to be time for me to get a new smartphone. After work, I walked down to Chelsea and visited the Google store. A young woman named Gaby asked if I needed help, and I sure did. I explained to Gaby my problem and she walked away, reappearing a minute later with a can of air, and some tools that resembled.

After a spritz of air, Gaby set about using the dental tools and began digging out a lot of dust and pocket lint. And about five minutes later, Gaby plugged an adapter into the slot and it fit perfectly. I asked if I could do the same, and Gaby stepped away, allowing me to do so. And sure enough, the adapter was snug in the slot.

I thanked Gaby profusely and was soon on my way to the PATH train. I didn’t want to search for a seat, so I wound up walking back to the street where the office where I’ve been working is, which is also where the back entrance to the PATH train is.

Sure enough, I found a seat and started reading a collection about The Fall and Mark E. Smith. Another not so uplifting thing. I bought it soon after Mark E. Smith died, but never got around to reading it, and now I remembered why. It was nothing new, really, it was just a collection of reviews and interviews from the New Musical Express back in the day.