We are coming to the close of our cabling project here in Pullman at Washington State. The dormitory walls are all laid in brick, and what was a mere construction site has graduated to skeleton, to full form and now nearly to finished project. During this phase of our network building we focus on what we call "trimming." It's a fancy word for simply putting an end on the cable. This connects the bare copper wire to the electronic switch and therefore the outside world. On the other end, a student plugs in their laptop and cruises MySpace, or blogs, or perhaps even studies.
It's an exceedingly simple process. Easy to learn, but difficult to master. To make the job as simple as possible, the four pairs of wires that make up the twisted innards of a cable are color-coded. Each is paired up as a color and a white and the color order is a rigid one. Always blue, orange, green, brown. The wires are fitted in special clips and then forced in, creating the electrical contact and snipped off making a tidy package. The whole kit is then put in a nice faceplate and then screwed into the wall, so the ugly wire parts are hidden, and the whole thing resembles an electrical outlet, just with internet connections instead of plugs. The effect is that someone might never know there are thousands of feet of cable running overhead and underfeet through the building and that the internet is a mysterious ethereal place, and not a humming collection of machines in a room somewhere.
I have learned that it is a humbling thing to know that you have graduated from a university and have the paperwork to prove it, and yet screw up something that is color coded. The individual steps themselves are the essence of simplicity, but this task of blue, orange, green and brown must be repeated on both sides of the cable. All told there are over two thousand connections in the building. Each one bears my fingerprints. Blue, orange, green, brown. Over and over and over and over and over and over again. The trick is in the details. The more efficient your movements become the faster the task is done. The faster the wires fall into the place, the faster the faceplate is fixed. Faster and faster, each time more muscle memory than thought. More pattern than deliberation. The workers pull wires in the square, two by two the task is shared...
When faced with a familiar repetitive task, the mind can't help but wander, and I am no exception. To help, I try to keep my mind focused on little mnemonics, little tricks I play on myself, little sayings, little neurotic tics that keep my thoughts from derailing as I move from room to room in the building.
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Blue, orange, green, brown. anyone lived in a pretty how town. I am alone. There is no building, there is no room. There is no construction site, there are no workers. I am in my apartment in Spokane. This is the moment I realize I have moved to Spokane. I am alone. Brown, green, orange, blue. children guessed (but only a few and down they forgot as up they grew. I am in her house. My pictures are on the wall, my books on the bookshelf. My colors in a room. The house is bright and there are voices. The sound of feet on a hardwood floor. This is our home. Brown, orange, blue green. They said their nevers, they slept their dream. I am walking up the stairs in the Irish Emigrant. I see her, wearing a white dress. We lock eyes. Green, blue, brown, orange...
Fucking orange! There is a construction site again. The faceplate has been screwed into the wall, but I have no recollection of doing it. I discover that while I wasn't paying attention, I've finished the other three rooms on the other side of the hall. I move sluggishly to an undone room.
The motions are automatic. Sit down in the chair, set down the tools. Strip the cable, the place the boot over to protect the connection. Each time I do this am surprised to see how expertly my hands know the task. Snap, pull, twist, click. How quickly they move. It's as though I'm watching someone else work. Orange, brown, green, blue. Somewhere someone is travelling furiously toward you...
While I terminate cable I've been nearly anyplace I've ever been, both in my past and in my future. Sometimes she's there, sometimes she's not. Sometimes I'm older, sometimes I'm younger. Most of the time I'm in Spokane, sometimes I'm in Seattle. Sometimes its when we've first met, and we flirt awkwardly. Sometimes we're in the nursing home together and we talk quietly about things that have never happened. Sometimes I think about what I've gained. Most times I think about what I've lost. Sometimes it's a fantasy, sometimes it's real. Back and forth, forwards and backwards I go. Snap, pull, twist, click.
I am on the construction site. I am in college. I am sleeping in my bed at home in Madrona. She is there, she is not there. I am overjoyed, I am defeated. She's my hero, she is my villain. She's an angel, I'm a demon. I am alone. There is no building, there is no room. There is no construction site, there are no workers. I am in my apartment in Wallingford. This is the moment I realize I am moving to Spokane. This is the moment I realize I am moving to Bellingham. This is the moment I realize I live in a hotel, that I live in her house. That I have no home, that this will never be our house.
This is the moment I stand before Daryl's wedding. your slightest look easily will unclose me though i have closed myself as fingers... Not his wedding, my wedding, my wedding, my wedding. although you're not beside me now, I know that you have been... one day there will be no substitute, for I'll see you again...
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There is a room, there is a building, there is a construction site and I am a worker again.
snap brown, twist green, pull orange, click blue
she loves someone, but she doesn't love you...
