Valentine's Day
It's Saturday--it's 2:00 pm--and I am at home with a manuscript in my lap. Everyone else I work with (okay, "everyone" is probably a slight exaggeration) is out with some significant other, and I am reading some terrible (novel? novella? insanely long short story?) by a man who only wants to see his name in publication lights. He has nothing significant to tell the world--but he's entertaining in his nothing, so someone decided that he must have a place on book superstore shelves.
I should quit avoiding the issue. I came back to my desk after a meeting yesterday and found three of those conversation hearts on my desk: "be mine," "love me," and "u r the 1." The "me me me" message behind them all is a bit selfish--but I'm willing to forgive them because I understand the limitations of conversation-hearts. I wanted to assume that some Valentine Cupid-impersonator dropped some on everyone's desk--easier to assume nothing than to be disappointed--but then I got the terrible idea of walking to Marcie's desk, and looking at everyone's space who was still in the board room...
I was the only one.
I risked asking Marcie--I thought I was being terribly vague, but her eyes widened in that "office drama" shape, and I was luckily saved by the ringing of her phone.
Reading constant manuscripts that are too terrible to be books (borrowed idea from the real book I'm reading) gives me a terrible hatred for cliches--not just statements, but actions. I'm finding this conversation heart thing incredibly cliche--I think I even read this in a comic strip (or bad romance manuscript, which ultimately is the same thing).
The flavor of conversation hearts has changed--no longer that chalky sweet, but now slightly tart.
Of course I ate them.
I should quit avoiding the issue. I came back to my desk after a meeting yesterday and found three of those conversation hearts on my desk: "be mine," "love me," and "u r the 1." The "me me me" message behind them all is a bit selfish--but I'm willing to forgive them because I understand the limitations of conversation-hearts. I wanted to assume that some Valentine Cupid-impersonator dropped some on everyone's desk--easier to assume nothing than to be disappointed--but then I got the terrible idea of walking to Marcie's desk, and looking at everyone's space who was still in the board room...
I was the only one.
I risked asking Marcie--I thought I was being terribly vague, but her eyes widened in that "office drama" shape, and I was luckily saved by the ringing of her phone.
Reading constant manuscripts that are too terrible to be books (borrowed idea from the real book I'm reading) gives me a terrible hatred for cliches--not just statements, but actions. I'm finding this conversation heart thing incredibly cliche--I think I even read this in a comic strip (or bad romance manuscript, which ultimately is the same thing).
The flavor of conversation hearts has changed--no longer that chalky sweet, but now slightly tart.
Of course I ate them.