Wonderwall
The last nine days have been a surreal experience. Ten days ago, I could not imagine I would imagine how incredibly strange, but incredibly correct my life is and that something as horribly cliched as Wonderwall by Oasis would be my song du jour, because it just fits. I'm at the highest possible level of upheaval I could possibly imagine while feeling safe and secure at my desk in my apartment.
Last Thursday was a walk into a world of terror with missteps and landmines everywhere, yet somehow I navigated them all beyond what I thought my skill set could handle. After that, I removed myself from my world for four days, journeying through airports and rental car counters to arrive in Florida, where life just stopped, except for the thoughts about returning to a world of uncertainty, which I was thrilled about on some level, though at the same time horribly fearful of. Monday, I spent seven hours in an airport, reading Gravity's Rainbow, which is akin to bits of fantastical, imaginative writing wrapped in an endless mound of nonsensical garbage, so much like real life. After watching old women eat Happy Meals, I boarded a plane, watched Saturday Night Fever and arrived home to ice and snow.
I am not certain I could even explain Tuesday even if I was allowed to or even wanted to, but suffice to say, it was not a superficially bad moment and excellent sandwiches were served. Wednesday was 30 minutes at work and four hours with dinner, which is on the whole, usually a good way to live life. And yesterday was the holiday party at work, which after a zany day at work started slow and ended awkwardly well, though even the uninebriated tell the strangest stories at an office holiday party. But somehow, it all makes sense.
Last Thursday was a walk into a world of terror with missteps and landmines everywhere, yet somehow I navigated them all beyond what I thought my skill set could handle. After that, I removed myself from my world for four days, journeying through airports and rental car counters to arrive in Florida, where life just stopped, except for the thoughts about returning to a world of uncertainty, which I was thrilled about on some level, though at the same time horribly fearful of. Monday, I spent seven hours in an airport, reading Gravity's Rainbow, which is akin to bits of fantastical, imaginative writing wrapped in an endless mound of nonsensical garbage, so much like real life. After watching old women eat Happy Meals, I boarded a plane, watched Saturday Night Fever and arrived home to ice and snow.
I am not certain I could even explain Tuesday even if I was allowed to or even wanted to, but suffice to say, it was not a superficially bad moment and excellent sandwiches were served. Wednesday was 30 minutes at work and four hours with dinner, which is on the whole, usually a good way to live life. And yesterday was the holiday party at work, which after a zany day at work started slow and ended awkwardly well, though even the uninebriated tell the strangest stories at an office holiday party. But somehow, it all makes sense.