I've spent the last two days watching the entire first season of Dexter. Yesterday I sat in a chair for six hours, completely sucked in. How can it possibly be that my solitary goal for the foreseeable future is to have days that accomplish nothing? Either way, there's a satisfaction in letting my brain unravel like a sickly colored ball of yarn in the darkness.
Recently, I find myself wondering more and more about the thin lines between what makes us human and what makes us sub-human. I don a work uniform, and suddenly it becomes acceptable for other people to stop speaking to me in complete sentences. I get points and grunts, one and two-word commands, as though bagging someone's groceries makes me consequently receptable to abuse. It's not necessary to respond to my questions or return my smiles or even look me in the face if it isn't convienent. Mostly it just makes me curious, our arbitrary societal hierarchies.
A small voice in my brain whines pitifully for change. Desperation rules out pickyness, choice negated by need. Everything feels slightly askew, a carbon copy of my life laid over the original, but to the right a centimeter or two, blurring the lines between them. Everything feels slightly wrong and much thicker, almost hazy, and very difficult to navigate.
I had the urge to make blueberry cream cheese turnovers today, though for no real reason.
The tiny rose plant I rescued from certain dehydrating death at work is in critical condition. It looks a little pitiful on my windowsill, almost bare against a grey sky. I hope it survives, for its sake as well as mine.
I like the ball of yarn metaphor!
ReplyDeleteSorry work sucks. I like you!
haha "in critical condition" is a Pokemon reference!!! Don't worry, the rose lasted a long time. I'm surprised it survived at all. You're a good person!