Hold Me Back

I've surrendered time from my schedule of moping around the apartment waiting to bump into things to give a little more perspective about my anxieties and experiences between the hours of 9 and 5, where my MIND mopes around inside my HEAD occasionally bumping into things, such as brainwaves.

Occasionally.

This intersection of the mind & body provides me with a respite of, ironically, work, distracting from the painful effect of forcing open my dry, glazed eyes as they themselves set the subjects of their lifeless stare ablaze. Yes, nirobert.blogspot.com readers, I'm talking about work; the very place my host body painstakingly morphs into a bigger, slower, weaker life form – right, kind of like Krang but only better at survey research.

Here at the survey scientist's Shangri-La, I die so much faster each day. And by "faster", I mean "a Rolling Stone by 5", for I become the undead, mumbling vegetable bastardchild of Father Time and Mother "Freak of" Nature* with a special talent for looking mangy. In an effort not to ignite the humans around me with the cycloptic microwave beam that’s emitted from my eyes in the morning, I often avoid eye contact if at all possible in passing through the hallway. This is without question very difficult if one also wishes to keep happy relations with one's coworkers. For example, my inner monologue in such a situation might go like this:

Me: Clear hallway! GO.
Me: What're you gonna say if big boss walks out? Is it gonna look sincere??
Stomach: ME HUNGRY FEED NOW GO CAFETERIA DO JOB LATER
Me: Blast! The computer guy!!!1 Stay calm stay calm stay calm...

Him: Howareyou---.
Me: Good. [quickens pace]
Him: Good. [continues on Segway]

After explaining my ideas to so-and-so and come to find that I’d gotten myself a lot deeper in the shit than I ever wanted to, my motivation wilts and I give ‘em the “I’m going to look into this and get back to you” bit and walk the fuck away. Anyone who’s ever been to a bar knows that feeling – when the girl you think you’re getting on well with leans over and, instead of saying ‘let’s go home,’ she says she’s going to the bathroom. Never to return. I’m that person at work because, well, I aint tryin’ to hear that shit; shit.

I get back to my cube, open Outlook, and read an email from a boss who uses italicized cursive AND bolded font to sign their name as if they really wrote it. Now, I know you’re not trying to fool anyone, but don’t think for a second that I feel warmer after reading that. Try patronized, motherfucker -- that’s what’s up.

One final thing: don’t adjust my air conditioner, lest I stick you something cold-blooded with my letter opener. Had a girl turn it off like nothing was up. Hold me back.

Next entry: possibly the re-cap of Tokyo…

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*Sincere apologies to the Rolling Stones; your music is great.

Diversion

Leave your name and
1. I'll respond with something random about you.
2. I'll tell you what song/movie reminds me of you.
3. I'll pick a flavor of Jell-O to wrestle with you in.
4. I'll say something that only makes sense to you and me.
5. I'll tell you my first/clearest memory of you.
6. I'll tell you what animal you remind me of.
7. I'll ask you something that I've always wondered about you.

Live By The Pen, Die By The Pen

An uncapped pen is a dangerous pen.

That is all.