On this missile
Alone and aimless we do ride.
On this missile
Temporal – our craft, a thistle.
Not life within formaldehyde;
Impermanence, where we reside
On this missile.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Friday, April 1, 2011
The normality of the regular day, pt. 1
It was a day like any other. A Thursday like any other, to be precise. I awoke to the usual beeps from my alarm clock. "Good morning, little buddy," I said to my cat, Randy. He followed me from the bedroom into the kitchen, where I opened a can of food for him and dumped it into his bowl. It smelled okay but I decided not to have any breakfast, like most mornings.
While Randy ate, I went to the bathroom and took care of my morning routine. I brushed my teeth, evacuated my bowels, and took a lukewarm shower, just the way I like it. After the shower I carefully combed my hair and returned to the bedroom to get dressed. I had laid out my clothes the previous evening so I didn't have any choices to make. Just the way I like it. I put my shirt on and mussed up my perfect comb job, as usual, so I had to go back to the bathroom and fix that mistake. The morning was quickly becoming frustrating, like most mornings.
I finally got my hair back in place and put on the rest of my clothes (pants, belt, socks, shoes, tie [clip-on, for ease of use]). Randy sat on the floor and stared me down as I did so, managing to unnerve me slightly. I'm a nervous guy, and I don't like being looked at. What else can I say? Why am I defending myself to you?
In any case, I was almost ready to go to work. I shoved some Kleenex in my pockets and grabbed my keys and cell phone, even though I knew taking the phone was largely pointless because the only people I knew were my coworkers, and we weren't particularly close. They would really have no reason to call me, whether I was at the office or not. But I took the phone anyway, as a kind of insurance against whatever unforeseen unfortunate event might happen. At least 911 would answer my calls. I hoped.
I got in my car and turned the radio to a non-station (85.3), so I would hear the soothing sounds of static during my hellish commute of 15 minutes. Granted, sometimes the drive only took ten minutes, or sometimes as few as five, but it was torturous nonetheless. Other road warriors would honk and curse and shake their fists at me, speeding by and glaring. They displayed all manners of rudeness, really, and this day was no different.
I reached the parking lot at work and breathed deeply to calm myself down after I had parked. After a few minutes of hyperventilating, I was somehow ready for the rest of the morning.
"Good morning, Hortense," I said to Hortense as I walked into the building. She nodded and half-smiled in reply. I wondered if she had some kind of facial muscular disability, since I'd never seen her fully smile. Or maybe she was ashamed of her teeth for some reason, and wanted to hide them. Either way, her half-smile slightly unnerved me that day, like every other day. I scuttled past her as quickly as my too-short legs would allow and arrived at my office.
I sat down at my desk and wondered what I would do today. My job title was CSOM IV, which stood for something that apparently was not necessary for me to know in order to do my job. I also wasn't exactly sure what the company I worked for did, other than some kind of consulting, whatever that means. I didn't have the desire or wherewithal to investigate further, and it never came up in conversation because I so rarely spoke to anyone outside of the office. Even within the office itself, the topic of what exactly we were all doing, what purpose we were working towards, was never broached. No matter. I knew my duties: receive forms, study them, input them into our system and pass them along to someone else. Sometimes the forms were different, but the principle remained the same whether they were CRFs, CFs, S3s, TRAICs, or whatever else. I remembered seeing a few EE7s when I first started, but they must have been phased out shortly after. I loved my job.
While Randy ate, I went to the bathroom and took care of my morning routine. I brushed my teeth, evacuated my bowels, and took a lukewarm shower, just the way I like it. After the shower I carefully combed my hair and returned to the bedroom to get dressed. I had laid out my clothes the previous evening so I didn't have any choices to make. Just the way I like it. I put my shirt on and mussed up my perfect comb job, as usual, so I had to go back to the bathroom and fix that mistake. The morning was quickly becoming frustrating, like most mornings.
I finally got my hair back in place and put on the rest of my clothes (pants, belt, socks, shoes, tie [clip-on, for ease of use]). Randy sat on the floor and stared me down as I did so, managing to unnerve me slightly. I'm a nervous guy, and I don't like being looked at. What else can I say? Why am I defending myself to you?
In any case, I was almost ready to go to work. I shoved some Kleenex in my pockets and grabbed my keys and cell phone, even though I knew taking the phone was largely pointless because the only people I knew were my coworkers, and we weren't particularly close. They would really have no reason to call me, whether I was at the office or not. But I took the phone anyway, as a kind of insurance against whatever unforeseen unfortunate event might happen. At least 911 would answer my calls. I hoped.
I got in my car and turned the radio to a non-station (85.3), so I would hear the soothing sounds of static during my hellish commute of 15 minutes. Granted, sometimes the drive only took ten minutes, or sometimes as few as five, but it was torturous nonetheless. Other road warriors would honk and curse and shake their fists at me, speeding by and glaring. They displayed all manners of rudeness, really, and this day was no different.
I reached the parking lot at work and breathed deeply to calm myself down after I had parked. After a few minutes of hyperventilating, I was somehow ready for the rest of the morning.
"Good morning, Hortense," I said to Hortense as I walked into the building. She nodded and half-smiled in reply. I wondered if she had some kind of facial muscular disability, since I'd never seen her fully smile. Or maybe she was ashamed of her teeth for some reason, and wanted to hide them. Either way, her half-smile slightly unnerved me that day, like every other day. I scuttled past her as quickly as my too-short legs would allow and arrived at my office.
I sat down at my desk and wondered what I would do today. My job title was CSOM IV, which stood for something that apparently was not necessary for me to know in order to do my job. I also wasn't exactly sure what the company I worked for did, other than some kind of consulting, whatever that means. I didn't have the desire or wherewithal to investigate further, and it never came up in conversation because I so rarely spoke to anyone outside of the office. Even within the office itself, the topic of what exactly we were all doing, what purpose we were working towards, was never broached. No matter. I knew my duties: receive forms, study them, input them into our system and pass them along to someone else. Sometimes the forms were different, but the principle remained the same whether they were CRFs, CFs, S3s, TRAICs, or whatever else. I remembered seeing a few EE7s when I first started, but they must have been phased out shortly after. I loved my job.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)