Monday, July 5, 2010
The system fails when there’s too much going on at once to filter life correctly; those little workers in my head begin to throw punches, yell obnoxiously, practice sarcastic hand gestures, and loot the village storehouse. At this point, my brain will misfire (and my blog gets filled with random, funny-only-to-me bits of drivel) – dealing with the chaos and functioning at a sensible level are two things that do not go well together. The stillness you hear after the mob-mentality has quieted is not peace and quiet at all – the workers have simply gotten too tired to win the argument rightnow – so they settle instead on doing nothing. The union goes on strike and the workers set up camp in their barcaloungers; the only cerebral activity to be noted is that little white surrender flag you see waving in the corner on the expansive pile of rubble. If you listen hard enough, you will hear the sounds of palpable tension, shuffling card decks, and whisky induced slumber.
Currently, I’m experiencing Option B.
The amount of energy I’m currently able to muster allows me to blow puffs of air out the side of my mouth and nothing more. Oh, I can blink, too. I still have the energy for that.