Trains

I have found myself working for the summer, which is truely a wonderful thing for my bank account. I'm putting my recently acquired knowledge and skills to use at a local factory. No, I am not teaching anyone there to sing. I am instead shipping boxes and boxes of contacts. Those plastic things that millions of people put in their eyes are made at a factory not too far from my house, at which I have found employment. The wonderful thing about a factory is that it is loud; meaning I can sing to myself all day and no one notices. Putting my skills to use for the entertainment of...myself.

This job is truely an eye opening experience (no pun intended) on a variety of levels. Ah yes, at times it can be monotonous, and you start to see things that aren't really there, but I'm sure that happens to everyone. To make the time pass, I've been trying to keep track of my trains of thought. Where does my mind wander to occupy the time? I kept a pen and paper nearby all day to jot down my trains, and as I read it back to myself in the car I realized...well,  I'll let you draw your own conclusions.

Work begins at 6:30am. One thing I learned through student-teaching is that early-morning-kayla is not as 'with it' as every-day-kayla (who is already deducted a few notches on the 'with-it' ladder). This equates that early-morning-kayla is significantly more scatterbrained and slow on the uptake than a normal functioning human being. Luckily for me, once the body and fingers are set to do the work, the mind is left to wander.

Trains of thought started with me singing through the majority of "Rent" (the musical) through my head. Three times. Sure, I skipped some of the songs that I didn't know as well, and then there were others (those defining Rent songs like "Seasons of Love" and "Take Me or Leave Me") that were on 'repeat' for a time on my mental playlist. This is Kayla at 6:30 in the morning. Kayla hasn't been a musical junkie since freshman year of college, furthering the theory that early-morning-kayla is a completely different persona all together. Needless to say I started thinking about what it would be like to become a character on a stage again, something I used to find pleasure in doing, now the thought appalls me {I'll have to write another blog as to why}. However, my persona this morning had no qualms with envisioning myself as Mimi Marquez, flailing over railings in sky blue hot pants and howling at the moon. Of course, I was also envisioning myself several skin tones darker, as anyone with a background with Rent would realize the impossibility of me ever performing as Mimi. But hey, that's what daydreams are for. Moving on...

I work at a desk that is next to conveyor belts. Truly, Henry Ford was a genius for that whole assembly line system of things. I'm at the desk and continually watch bins of contacts float past me, while I place the packages to be shipped on the conveyor belt beneath it. From the angle I sit at the bins of contacts turn a corner, kind of like a roller coaster... but for contacts. I started thinking about roller coasters, or what it would be like to shrink myself like Miss Frizzle did with her students on the Magic School Bus and hop in one of the bins with the contacts. I further progressed to write an entire episode of "the Magic School Bus", with the kids exploring what it would be like at my factory, of course with a ride on the contact-conveyor-belt-roller-coaster to finish the episode.Then if I got to do that?! I'd get to float around the entire factory, up and down, twisting and turning on these conveyor belts and that definitely would have been more fun that packing boxes. Literally these conveyor belts are at ground level in some places, and then only mere feet away from the ceiling at other points. We're talkin' one massive roller coaster.

I talk to the customers. In my head of course. I say "thank you" to those customers who purchase boxes of contacts as opposed to singlets (no, not wrestling singlets, singlet packages of contacts). You see, if someone buys just a box of contacts I can put it in yet anther box and go. But the singlets have to be wrapped in foam, and then taped and secured, and it basically throws off my groove. At 6:30 in the mornin', this girl don't like her groove to be thrown. This also progresses on to my game. Yes, I made a game for myself. The things the mind can do to keep itself occupied.

I ship contacts through UPS, meaning after I have packaged up the contacts all nice and pretty, I get to put the UPS label on it. Most of the label is just little black dots and lines and things I can't make sense of, except for two letters, indicating which state the package is going to. So far, California is winning with Kansas a close second. I've also found with each state that pops out, my mind automatically associates a memory or a person, or a person and memory. For example, every time New Jersey pops out I think of Rebecca, a dear friend who is from there and how her stories of being so close to NYC made me jealous. Or how Louisiana makes me think of Amber from 5th grade, our one student who moved to my elementary school from Louisiana and we all thought she was the coolest thing. Many of them make me smile, like Oklahoma, Maryland, Connecticut, Washington. As I print and stick the labels I shoot up a quick prayer for the memory and person that is called to mind. I'm actually even impressed with myself as there are very few states that I have no association with. Anyone out there have associations with Oregon, Mississippi, Montana, Wyoming, or the Dakotas?

 The boxes and I occasionally get into scuffles. Luckily for me I have a height factor, but these little buggers (literally, 6x4 inch boxes) have some nasty tricks up their sleeve. I already have three fingers in rehab from cardboard cuts. As imagined, these are worse than paper cuts. Longer, redder, and more painful. What hurts the worst is that they're normally a blow to the self-esteem too. Just when you think you've tackled that box and have it pinned down, it comes back out and pops you one, slicing your skin on the way. Then you're left thinking "how did I let that scrawny little box get the best of me? How could I have let my guard down?" Within two minutes you move on to the next, self-esteem fully restored and the mind back to wandering.

I was observing the culture of "factory" today. It's this busy, yet chill culture, and it's exceedingly diverse too. My mental train took a detour as to what other factories might look like, not just contact factories. Mr. Rodgers used to do segments of how various products were made, and he would show footage of factories on his show. The one I will never forget is the clip from the crayola factory. As I was packing contacts, I began to think about the Crayola factory and what it would be like to work there. The first thing that popped in my head was unicorns and sparkles. Literally. Don't act surprised. I can't help these things, they just pop up! After I spent some time with the unicorns, I thought about walking around the crayola factory in white all day and having people color me all day long...I'd come home a different piece of art every day.

The final train that fills the missing pieces of track, the mortar that fills in all the empty spaces has to do with what I will be doing in two short months. Boy, are those thoughts exciting, exhilarating, energetic, and blissful. You can find out more here about what I will be doing. Feel free to follow along and keep updated.

As I said before, I'm allowing you to draw your own conclusions. You can bet your bippy that there will be more to come, too.