What Is True
I think the cold has passed itself along, probably to some poor miserable number of my fellow workers at the office. There's this ping pong thing happening, a kind of tournament where everybody tries to keep the ball up in the air for as long as possible, where everybody tries to keep this one particular cold alive within our office population (including the kids and visitors), possibly forever, and, without seeming to try, we have gotten particularly good at it.
Otherwise, a long day today, this Saturday, read the paper over breakfast at the cafe down by the lake, pick up some cat food from the vet in Rockridge and then zone out like a prenatal zombie watching rental movies and listening to the rain outside on the balcony. Fuzzy headed. I wonder if it's the cold or the work or life itself, this fuzzy headed business? Just something I didn't notice or pay attention to when I was younger, but there it was, all along, hiding out somewhere between the good days and the bad hangovers.
Sunday, after breakfast, same breakfast at the same place at about the same time as yesterday morning, except no more fuzzies. I'd planned and made decisions on major life changes by the time I'd finished the waffle. I think it was somewhere over the second piece of bacon (waffle, two eggs over easy and two cholesterol slick bacon slices, dipped in a little catsup) that I decided on a change of profession, marriage and giving up coffee, all of which make me realize, perhaps, where these fuzzies are originating, a desperate ploy by my unconscious to bring me back to reality. I have no doubt there are people in this world who don't have the fuzzies to advise them in their life's decisions and not only make decisions like these, but actually carry them out just like you see on television, boy meets girl, Bill Gates meets Basic. Later this morning I'll drive into the office and finish up that project, all before noon. The mind is spinning.
I'm only half kidding. I've been sitting here forever writing about changes, bringing the subject
up mostly in the spirit of getting my feet wet, getting the old subconscious mind familiar with the concept. I assume the conscious mind has reservations too and they talk about it, subconscious and conscious, while I'm sleeping, much like two players in a poker game judiciously playing their hands. "I'll raise you writing a resume and posting it on DICE," says the one. "I'll match that and raise you a week sitting in front the television set watching Survivor", both, I think, way in over their heads. The air is cold in there at night in the middle of those poker games. You'd think they'd turn up the heat and drink some nice hot brandy with the stereo turned down low and the candle lights flickering. Couldn't hurt to have your conscious and unconscious cohabiting on a friendly basis. Here in Oakland.
So, this is the weekend, this Sunday after breakfast. I've not been posting as often as I usually do in this last couple weeks, at least it feels like I haven't, and it's, I don't know, maybe just the month and the weather. Things have continued to careen down the rails at work. You hear all sorts of stories and everybody wants to stay around until April when many things now only whispered will become known. The bonus everyone was saying late last year was locked into place at a full 100% will be paid or not paid on the 1st, the Fool's Day. One or two projects in particular will be going full blast by April 1st and then we'll all know what is true and what is not.