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The More You Drive, The Less Intelligent You Are: 10.4.04

Remember that line from Repo Man? It sums up this morning’s commute. And another thing is, why does my job blow so hard? When I used to spend my days toiling for the ruling powers of HarmCity trying to ensure that a show like “The Wire” would never be made because the acute poverty and societal erosion it portrays would be rendered obsolete by our good works, I worked down the hall from a smart, funny lady. On her door, she had a sign that read: Bored? Lonely? Confused? Unsure? Just Lazy? Have a meeting! It was funny in that Dilbert-officey way because it perfectly captured this very phenomenon—some people just have meetings for the fuck of it and these people generally lack a clear sense of direction and your basic creativity that might otherwise inspire them to get started on a project in other more productive ways (that don’t involve my valuable time being squandered).

I know that it is just as dull to read about people’s workday annoyances as it is to listen to rambling dream descriptions and their interpretations. But indulge me. Because as I write this, the time is ticking down to yet another ridiculous, useless meeting that I must attend. For the same person. Who can’t seem to actually get something done without convening a whole bunch of other people who always have perfectly reasonable ideas about next steps and timeframes and what needs to happen.

What a loser.

In other news, I am starting to wonder if the same concept doesn’t apply just as easily to how I spend my time outside of work. What motivates some certain people to spend large chunks of time with me when it doesn’t seem to enhance the sense of closeness we express, feel, endear? Why am I spending time with these people? Am I bored? Lonely? Confused? Just lazy?

Am I the loser?

Here are two things from my other journal that I wrote this time last year:

1) You have just missed a perfect opportunity not to make a fool of yourself. I just read that sentence in French this morning.

2) Oh to hibernate all winter through with the puss turning pages and draining tea cups. It is scary to think how easy that would be. Why are things like this? I am bottoming out on something I thought would put me out of my depth. I am starting to think that the sacred and profane love machine is just a big Xerox, likely to jam, but still equipped to only turn out copy after copy after copy. I don’t want to see this again.


Jeez.

This weekend someone described me as “ebullient, and by that I mean nice.”

And I just learned the jobbie is sending me to Oregon next month. Perfect.

For Halloween this year, I think I’ll disguise myself as self-possessed. Totally unrecognizable.


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