A) an Elton John live album playing directly next to me
B) the supreme lack of sleep I've accumulated over the week
C) staring at this screen for the last few hours
D) thoughts of how busy my weekend will be
E) remembering the errands I need to run
F) an extremely high blood sugar level
or G) all of the above
I would like to thank everyone. Over the last week or so I've spoken with many people about how bored I was with my job here, and how difficult I found it to continue coming in. The good news, however, is that I just accepted a better position, albeit temporary, here for a sizable pay increase. And it's all thanks to the thoughts and prayers of everyone who showed concern.
I love you all! Thank you for being so incredible!
We had a conversation in my car, parked in the lot right outside your dorm with the car still on as per usual. You drooped your shoulders after three hours of dancing in the main room at the JJL signifying that your general state of joy and elation in front of your friends had returned to the thoughts that had bounced like a rock falling into the Grand Canyon. They continued as they had been. Your decision. Explaining that someone had spoken negatively regarding Gordon, the gentleman who you had fallen away from and been attracted back recently. The choice was yours to make, you tell me and I nod. Nothing I haven't heard before, but the actions of others force one to repeat previous statements, consistently, leaving you dismembered; head down that canyon, body standing around, arms crossed waiting for the head to miraculously fly back out and land back on it's shoulders. Maybe the head will come back, but not permanently. You tell me of your feelings for him, and I don't have to nod; I know. The way you speak of him moves in tandem with your own personality. Like a connection that you have figured out.
I then tell you that what people have been saying, that they believe something is happening between you and I and you're surprised. Why didn't they come to you, you ask. You weren't satisfied with my shrug and neither was I. Then my mouth opens even though I know it probably shouldn't have; a quaint threat. You don't swallow. I tell you that it didn't effect me as much as it did looking back, then. I turned the lights off one more click and tell you that people trust you, love you and will support your decisions. They're just concerned, and within reason.
You're looking at an old tree to your right, a vague representation of how you might possibly view what has happened. The general time it has taken for things to go to hell, right themselves and continue in flux mimics the rings beneath the chipping bark; accelerated by your wish for things to be normalized. I look at the keys, the stereo, the dimmed time and back up at you. You're still jarred - or so it appears - and not moving at all in the passenger seat.
There's something very disconcerting about sitting here, waiting for work to come my way as I've finished all the other work that I needed to finish "so quickly".
Hey! Who wants to play "my shoulder hurts"? Anyone? No...where are those geese when you need entertainment?
P.S. - "You're so fast...I LOVE IT!" is a rewarding compliment to receive in my position.
I compose this using WordPad at Optima in Arlington Heights, near the boarder of Buffalo Grove; a block from my old high school as they don't have a full version of Word on this computer. From where I'm sitting I'm able to turn to see a fountain and pond with a variety of fish in it (or so Dan, the gentleman who sits next to me has told me), robins, sparrows and geese. It's a great view It's really the only thing that keeps me sane. I'm generally bored, shooting through the input of individuals' information into the Novartis Physician Patient Network. There are moments where I wish I knew how to train an ape, to take over this job. I'm sure they have the cognitive skills to distinguish letters and numbers on a keyboard, and couldn't do much worse than I do when it comes to deciphering the incredible calligraphy that resides on these forms. Actually, I take that back, there are a few where the fax machine has smudged the ink or left streaks that run down the page, but those are few and far between.
There are moments where I recall some posts I had in a previous blog, probably two-years ago. Talking about a position as a "monkey's job" or something like that. So, I decided against laying forth some long diatribe about the pains of doing such ridiculously mundane and easy work. I will, however, mention that here there are a variety of characters lining the room. We're laid out in a half circular pattern. Against the cubical system we all look at a white wall with a cork board trim wrapped in a plain white/gray cloth running at eye-level. Kevin, the gentleman who reminds me the most of John Goodman, sits with a spread of gag gifts, sports schedules and a brown, plastic tiki cup closest to the window; making comments about the geese and his intent to teach them to box and train them to fight and the proposal of keeping tabs on which goose has one the most 'battles". "We need to keep track of these things." He might be right, but then again, it may just be a way to keep morale up. The morale that sits in my shoulders and needs to be pummeled out by my friend Ben's massage therapist hands.
As it stands right now, I'm not really supposed to be using the internet for anything save inputting personal information into the Novartis Physician Patient Network for one of the one-day conferences of some kind, but I'll attempt to post something periodically to break monotony and painful headaches.
