A slight, regular backstep

This has been my bleak week, one out of every four, a bitter gray sort of week, and I’m reflecting the brooding Ohio sky. Every day a drain, weakening my spirit and sapping my strength, for no reason other than this happens cyclically and regularly. The kind of week that makes me frighteningly grateful to be trapped in a carpet-walled cubicle farm, to do my 8 hours of time in an icy, dim hall of cells, a somber zoo of quiet cages. Though the intrusive silence has stretched the hours at my desk into those watching-the-second-hand-seem-to-move-slower kinds of days lulling my heavy eyes to sleep. That, and the headphones I have to wear to drown out the offensive cacophony of that NOBODY in cubicle 4 have been droning ambient and experimental, apocalyptic folk, practically the soundtracks for my dreams, making me all but defenseless against that damn Sandman.

I recognized just this moment my supervisor is likely to read this, so I should mention here, the system and regularity, the patterns and routine of my various projects, have been the only things keeping me awake. I’ve likely done more work this week than in weeks I’m exuberant and outgoing, because those weeks I actually have the drive and desire to do something other than my often dull and dreary work.

Yet this is the type of week that reminds me just why I wake up to the pitch black of pre-dawn and force myself into the conventional costume of the office: the people I work with. If it weren’t for the perfect union of personalities I find not only tolerable but likable, and the few people that are more than coworkers, are truly friends, I could not, would not (eat green eggs and ham) do it. My workspace is not without its share of monsters and Grendels, most especially that certain Nameless I’ve written of before, but my library team, and a few orbiting contractors that have been assimilated into our crew*, often give me the courage and strength to bare these ‘just-shove-it-up-your-ass’ kind of days.

*One of those orbiting contractors, the only one likely to be reading this, is more than the subject of assimilation, but a unique force that has altered the chemistry of our prior library circle. He is, in fact, one of those actual friends that gives me the will to start my engine and pull out of the driveway as the first cup of coffee is wearing off and my steering wheels is starting to take on the shape of a pillow.

Enemies

It's hard to believe I've yet to rant about mine enemy, my arch nemesis, the vile cloud of C02 that fuels my explosive rage, (name removed to protect myself), the resident of Cubicle **** (I camp out in cube two). Nameless is the most disgusting and disturbing union of fat and flesh I've ever encountered, ever, and until he is eternally removed from existence, or moved to a different part of the building, I will be unable to focus on my job during the (thankfully) few hours he decides to come into work.

I describe Nameless as looking like Humpty Dumpty, because he is completely egg shaped and rocks back and forth when he walks b/c of some hip surgeries he's had. He is a chain smoker and his voice is a grating, whiny, nasal sort of awful with a hint of gruffness from the cancer I hope is growing in his throat. He is the type of diabetic who buys an entire pie from a bake sale (I wanted to hand him the spoon and tell him to dig in). He phones his wife numerous times throughout the day, and calls her momma and mommy. "Hi mommy. Did you wash my undershirts today?" "Hey momma, yeah, I'm eating carrots today." (So I can blame her for the godawfullyechoingloud crunching and munching?) "Mommy, my stocks went down today, yeah, I don't know what's wrong with this country" (watch the news?) "Hey mommy, can you come up to NASA and change my diaper, I'm not sure how." (Ok, I made that one up).

Every time he is present, he speaks so freaking loudly EVERYONE in his vicinity (and many who aren't) can hear his conversations verbatim. In fact, last week I learned his checking account number, routing number, password, and the total amt. of money in the account. Nothing is private for this man. His wife wears XL. I figured. His daughter's boyfriend hates him (who wouldn't?). He likes to drive around in fat-people carts when he goes on vacation (he didn't call them fat people carts, but that's what they are). The details abound. But I'll spare you, my imaginary reader, from what could be a novel-length list of facts and figures about the monstrosity that is Nameless.

Nameless is also really good at one-liners:

"It's because I drank too much lighter fluid as a kid" (No doubt)

"I used to ride the short bus" (I figured as much)

"When you squeeze the turkey's neck an onion pops out its but" (what? what what? omg)

The point is, Nameless is an abomination that must be stopped. I'm by no means the most philanthropic individual on earth, I'm regularly over-critical of the vast majority of my species, but Nameless really stands out from the masses of ignorance and filth I'm used to being surrounded by. I've written a list of grievances against him, and I hear it might actually lead to results. Others in the building have complained about him as well, so management knows I'm not just hyper-sensitive to abrasive personalities. But Nameless must not be permitted to continue his assault against my senses, he must not be perceived as an accepted member of a species that is capable of DaVinci's and Descartes. He must be forced to wear a dunce cap and a scarlet "I" for idiot. He must be segregated from the rest of us trying to improve existence for ourselves and others, those of us who are not chain-smoking, twinky-addicted, pig-trough-munching, beverage-slurping, pre-Oedipal, fat-cart-driving, whiny, obese pigs.

Sorry. I had to expel this filth from my head. He's a slow-working poison.

The mouths of babes? Eck.

Two marvelous quotes, the second's raunchy humor derived from the context developed by the first.

"I was bathing with my dad at eighteen"

I was luckily able to resolve that eighteen implied months and not years. And shortly following:

"We're talking about rearing babies"

If you haven't figured out what's wrong with the second quote, you'll probably not derive much from my blog at all.

I will try to offer something more substantive in the future, perhaps even today.