I seriously can’t even concentrate today. I mean, not like, at all.
I keep wandering around the office with no purpose whatsoever.
And I keep bumping into this new fella in the office who just about every day wears button down shirts with his sleeves rolled up and a skinny tie. Ok, first of all, like, no one here even wears ties.
Second of all, it’s like there’s a living breathing member of The Knack * tooling around the office and he’s single handedly trying to swing that look back to this side of the new century.
At any rate, I am restless.
I think it has to do with some creepy-ass dreams I had last night that involved Tom Cruise stabbing his mother in a trailer-type efficiency apartment place with bad wall-paper and like, curtains of the Motel 6 Caliber.
What’s even weirder is by the time the end of the dream was over Tom Cruise had morphed into this emo-boy used to “date” a couple of years ago. (date is a relative term – considering he was considerably younger than me I was a bit ashamed of myself [shuddup! He was over 18!] I couldn’t bring him around my friends so there were a lot of top-secret meetings for coffee in dicey diners across town at 2am) and said emo-boy was like laying in a pool of fake blood and he popped up and was like “surprise!”. He really hadn’t stabbed anyone and was apparently trying to prove some point.
And I was all “Dude, I haven’t even seen you in two years – what point could you possibly care to make at this point in time?!”
And then I just had to wake myself up before things got way out of control.
There are so many things wrong on so many levels with all I’ve just said. But there it is.
And I smell like cookies and bread and other baked goods today. I have on some sort of smelly-lotiony type stuff that someone gifted me this holiday season. It’s supposed to be some vanilla bean or something but every single person who has walked by has had something to say about it.
“Oh! Who is eating sugar cookies?”
“Bread – I smell bread.”
Over and over again.
At one point, there were like 5 people sniffing my wrist to confirm it was in fact, me who smelled like biscotti.
Although I personally think I smell homey and comforting, I will never wear it again. No wonder I’m restless! I can’t get a thing done with the pheromonal uproar I’ve caused today.
That and I’ve been listening to my way cool CD that is one huge 75 minute track of super-trippy-euro-techno-jazz-beats that my friend Allison made for me.
It’s caused an uproar all it’s own because in general, here in the cube, my way-cool boss/friend Matt and I have some sort of gentleperson’s agreement to exclusively listen to a lot of ansty emocore.
Or, stuff from 1993.
The point is this CD is in total violation of the agreed upon work-day format and he’s noticed.
The trippy clinky beats make me optimistic but Matt apparently hears things a little bit differently:
“Good Christ, woman? Are you listening to the Museum of Science and Industry coal exhibit soundtrack?! What’s with all the pounding?!”
I had it on repeat andI listened to it about 100 times already today which is a lot, considering it really is just one long 75 minute track (different songs all mixed). Which is fine, but every time it starts over I keep thinking:
“Well sheesh, another 75 minutes of my life gone.”
It reminds me of this other job I had at a radio station and one of the fellas I work with had a huge package of plastic/disposable forks that he kept locked up in his drawer. He brought his lunch every day and every day he would pull another one of those plastic forks out of the drawer to eat.
Different day. Another lunch. Another fork.
And it made me kinda sad, the way each day of his life was kinda counted away by plastic cutlery.
If I ever got to the bottom of that huge fork-pile - that would drive me mad, I think.
At any rate, I’m now listening to Morphine, in case you are wondering.
why? because I simply adore him!