conversations with the inanimate, the animate, and the undecided
last night i laid in bed and stared at my ceiling, wondering exactly what kind of dog my upstairs neighbors own and is there a specific type of dog bred to run back and forth and back and forth every night at midnight kind of like a rooster... except different in every conceivable way and if so why did they have to buy that breed of dog? "ceiling," i said, "remind me to buy some earplugs...
and also some apples.
and some lotion.
and a vowel... hehe... why is nobody ever around for gems like that?"
i think my ceiling was secretly judging me.
wein the chocolate biz're nearing the home stretch of that certain, special time of year where things are busy and i spend 9 to 10 hours a day with some very very tense people. responsively, i cope by grinching up (seriously. i hate christmas.) and eating a lot of fast food and gaining weight and silently hating myself and becoming incapable of focusing on anything or anyone for any measurable period of time.
there were a lot of "-ing"s in that last sentence.
so much of my brain has stopped paying attention ("what did i just say?" "uh... something about 'pain' and 'tension'?") and is instead elocuting my never ending to-do list on my skull's intercom and i've been worried my inattention and my flubs are going to leave a lasting impression on those around me, but today my office compadre (not dingdong) was trying to decide which upcoming play to buy tickets to. she read off a list of titles, paused after one and asked, "do you think it's a musical?"
i looked up from my computer, "'the miracle worker'?"
"ya. do you think it's a musical?"
"the play about helen keller?"
"ya."
"...."
"maybe i'll go see 'she loves me'."
"there you go."
all i'm saying is, nobody at work is performing at full capacity. i think something might be wrong with our synapses.
and also some apples.
and some lotion.
and a vowel... hehe... why is nobody ever around for gems like that?"
i think my ceiling was secretly judging me.
wein the chocolate biz're nearing the home stretch of that certain, special time of year where things are busy and i spend 9 to 10 hours a day with some very very tense people. responsively, i cope by grinching up (seriously. i hate christmas.) and eating a lot of fast food and gaining weight and silently hating myself and becoming incapable of focusing on anything or anyone for any measurable period of time.
there were a lot of "-ing"s in that last sentence.
so much of my brain has stopped paying attention ("what did i just say?" "uh... something about 'pain' and 'tension'?") and is instead elocuting my never ending to-do list on my skull's intercom and i've been worried my inattention and my flubs are going to leave a lasting impression on those around me, but today my office compadre (not dingdong) was trying to decide which upcoming play to buy tickets to. she read off a list of titles, paused after one and asked, "do you think it's a musical?"
i looked up from my computer, "'the miracle worker'?"
"ya. do you think it's a musical?"
"the play about helen keller?"
"ya."
"...."
"maybe i'll go see 'she loves me'."
"there you go."
all i'm saying is, nobody at work is performing at full capacity. i think something might be wrong with our synapses.
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