On what should have been a P.H.D. (post-headache day), I find myself with a buzzing pain in my head. The pain stalked me throughout the day and followed me home. Today was moving day in my office. This is the second time since I started that they moved my office. The first time was to a nicer office in the same building. Today, they moved me to a different building. I’m sure there are good reasons for all these moves, but I can’t figure them out. It’s something they warn you about when you first start: they will move you, and move you frequently. I don’t mind it much since they don’t expect you to work too hard when you don’t have an office. The only problem I have is that they’re separating me from some of my colleagues. They called this moving day a “Starbucks” working day. I know about Starbucks days all too well. I majored in them at my Houston job.
I managed a few hours of work in the form of meetings and from the cafeteria, before I gave up for the day and drove home. I finished watching Oliver Stone’s “JFK,” which I enjoyed. I’m thoroughly convinced there’s a conspiracy surrounding JFK’s assassination. How could there not be? They made a major Hollywood movie about it, and Kevin Costner starred in it. Kevin Costner! He’s the same person who convinced me that in twenty years, the world will flood over and people will develop gills. I listened to the first hour of JFK commentary as a sleep aid. It didn’t work and I wasn’t able to nap (I hoped to empty my head). The commentary was interesting, but I decided not to finish it. Instead, I moved on to my next Netflixed movie, “Dr. Strangelove.” I’ve only seen the beginning, but it’s enjoyable. Wow. Rereading this paragraph I see how little I said and how many words it took me to say it. Kudos!
Writing has helped clear a bit of my head. I don’t think I’ve recovered from my trip home. I’ve talked before about my delicate constitution, and how even the smallest deviation from normalcy can throw me off-kilter. I’m sure that’s part of it. The abnormal weather in Seattle—it continues to be warm and sunny—isn’t helping things. Huge shifts in weather can cause havoc on my constitution. I’m losing count of all of my complaints and problems.
I find myself with nothing to write about. I once again waited until late evening to start this pitter-patter. I’ve spent more time working myself up to writing than writing. This has all been throat clearing. In a story (if I ever bother to write stories again), I would erase this, and you’d be left with sparkling and undeniable brilliance. But since I’m not there yet, and I have little else to offer, I’ll leave this here. I’m lying on my couch on the first floor, my eyes closed, my head leaning against the couch cushions searching for a position that will relieve the pangs in my brain. I’m hoping I’m recording these words because I haven’t looked up in a while. You know how you sometimes touch type and glance away, your cursor goes wacko, and when you look back, you lost your last three lines of text? Well, that didn’t happen to me. But it would have been funny had it happened. And I would have saved boring you for three more lines of text.
I think this rates as my shortest entry in a while. I’m comfortable with that. I had little to talk about today, and my head wasn’t clear enough to create anything. One of these days, I’m going to have the wherewithal to get something done. I know you don’t believe me, but it’ll happen, you’ll see. Until then, I don’t know what to tell you. I’ll continue to consternate, and you’ll continue not to read these musings. It’s all for the best (there, with this last bit of consternating, I pushed the word count into the second page and a whooping, hold on to your bonnet, 690 words. Amazing.