(no subject)

Three months after beginning work in the Pentagon Library, I was called in to the office to meet the director of the department it's under and be told about all the other things that apartment does. When I came back, it was to change my information to reflect my new position, which meant I had to choose a job title, and ended up just going with "Librarian." I'm starting to get used to the new routine, the bus and metro ride, the walk through the building to get to the library, the work itself, which is somewhat more intensive than my previous work was but in a way I like, the walk home, except when I can catch the bus. Yet often when I'm heading out at the end of the day I wonder what dad would've thought had he lived to see me follow this closely in his footsteps. On occasion I've even addressed him up towards the heavens, though who knows if there's anything of him to hear. Mom has recently had crying fits in cabs with Middle Eastern drivers, who have tried to comfort her by telling her dad is in Heaven smiling down at her, but she is stridently atheist, so that does no good.
Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. getting better by the week, now. Mind completely blown tonight, especially by the very end. ( It may be wrong of me, but... )