i just had the following illuminating conversation with my 78-year-old boss.
boss: [client] is behaving this way because he’s a simpleton.
me: simpleton? (chuckles) i haven’t heard that word in so long!
boss: (not missing a beat) well, he is one. most people are. it is our job to save them from their simpleness.
i think you had to be there and hear our vocal inflections. it was a good conversation though. another client of ours, who could conceivably filed under “simpleton” as well, stopped by in a panic about something and wanted to use my phone. it’s reasonably hot out, but he was completely drenched in sweat. perhaps i should have let him use the other phone, because when he handed the receiver back to me, it was covered in sweat. “sorry,” he said sheepishly. i am not normally squeamish, but i wiped it off with a paper towel.
so! tired! ever since i had a minor freak-out earlier this week i’ve been making myself get up at 8am, no matter how late i get to bed the night before. it’s oddly soothing. and oddly, i don’t really feel that bad, despite the fact that i haven’t eaten or slept properly all week. last night i dreamnt i was in buenos aires, but it was very dull and full of blockbuster video stores. the night before, my ex-girlfriend’s new girlfriend appeared to me in a dream, and god is she annoying. but who has time for dreams? there are novels to be written, tendons to be healed, phones to be ignored, episodes of “the simpsons” on DVD to be watched (thank you, library!), vegetables to be watered, process-y emails to be written, girls to be sighed over, fake tattoos to be drawn, legal documents to be typed, stories to be told, stories to be told, stories to be told. i’ve gotta get them all out before i die. and who knows when that’ll be.
i was feeling like shit all week, really like unlovable uncaredfor untouchable shit, and yesterday i walked for hours. bikey was broken so i walked to shadyside, hugged old co-workers, walked to the library and read for hours, and then walked home. so long. so necessary. the clouds were hanging lovely over the mountains & i walked home at sunset and it was just what i needed. walking home i felt like i’d be okay. whether that’s true or not is debatable, but that feeling is always a good one.
ha! i just wrote something genuine, and i erased it. one of the things i miss the most about being young was how i was unafraid to be genuine, even if it was dorky. BUT i was a much huger dork back then. i still feel as if i am both genuine and dorky, but not to the extreme level that i used to take it to. i like taking things to extremes. i have a crush, very newly minted, on someone who is not extreme at all; a genuinely normal-seeming person. i don’t know how i feel about that! but maybe, hopefully, appearances are deceiving and she’s just as crazed as i am. or, at least, we can bone down and part ways as friends, as wacky memories. keep your fingers crossed for me, gentle reader.