casual friday

despite going out thursday night, i awoke friday ready to take on the last day of the work-week. standing in front of the closet, i wondered what to wear on "casual friday." by any other company's standards, the ALA is casual monday - thursday, and on friday the dress code just sighs, "i give up." i'm suspicious that one coworker comes into work in whatever he fell asleep in, which might also explain the musty smell wafting out of his office...

regardless, i was energized, i was dressed [down], and i was early. as i shut the door behind me, i took a moment to peer in the window, curious as to what matilda-the-feral-maniac first decides to destroy when i leave each morning. instead, i saw her yellow eyes staring back at me as she sat in the window sill. i flashed back to kansas, walking off to elementary school, looking back to see phil [the best dog ever] sitting in the front window, watching me walk away. i smiled, waved goodbye to matilda, and made to put in my headphones.

a shot of pain in my lower back, i'm looking at the sky, my flailing hand's ripping away from the banister, another slap across my should blades, six more stairs, a hard landing on the concrete, and what the FUCK was that?! it is then that i realize i've fallen down the front steps. i slowly stand up and gather my discombobulated ipod. pretending as if nothing is out of the ordinary--why, yes, that's always how i make my morning exit--i concentrate very hard on wrapping the extra length of headphones around the ipod, mentally assessing the damage. it's hard to breath deep. can you feel internal bleeding? doesn't matter, my hand is bleeding. rather than navigate those fucking stairs again to clean myself up, i find a receipt in my bag, slap it over my bloody thumb, pull on my mitten, and march off to the el.

i was lucky enough to get a seat on the train and spent the ride wondering about my toughness. i gave myself the following ratings.
toughness of spirit: A-
toughness of mind: A
toughness of body: B-
toughness of ego (when prepared for criticism): A
toughness of ego (when unprepared for criticism): D

after settling on that, my mind wandered to thoughts of survival. imagining myself forced into certain situations, i again rated myself on my likelihood of surviving.
soldier in civil war: 62%
soldier in WWII foxhole: 74%
sinking ship in shark-infested waters: 28%
homeless in chicago: 83%
trapeze artist in circus: 3%

coming home from work, all the ice had melted off the stairs, and matilda was perched on the sill shaking her head, don't pretend. i saw you fall this morning and you looked pretty stupid. on a scale of 1 to 10, i rate your grace a 0, your poise a 3, your dignity an 8, and your resourcefulness a 9. now feed me, i'm hungry.

blather

today was one of those days that feels like several days-- has several different stages, so that by the time you finally fall asleep it's like you've lived a whole week.

i'm guessing a big component to today's feel was the fact i took a mega dose of nighttime syrupy medicinal goodness last night. at 3am i woke up with pins and needles in my arm thanks to a cat sleeping on it. i remember thinking i should move, but when my alarm went off 4 hours later i was still in the same position minus sleeping cat and sleeping arm but a mouse instead. (it's like a circus in my bed. [i wish]).

the rest of my day proceeded as such:

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Share drive/T:/Editions marketing/Jill.Katharine/ what the hell am i looking for in this folder...?

do something. at least blink or nod or head or smile or show some sort of human response in this meeting. dear god, i feel like i'm dead. maye i am dead. is it snowing outside? i thought it wasn't supposed to-- katharine, are you okay? --me?! yes! i'm fine. hey look everyone, it's snowing!


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2:00pm- finally alert
3:00pm- extreme productivity
4:00pm- multiple paper cuts


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the quality of the light was beautiful walking out of work. when it's overcast- not cloudy, but angry with precipitation-- for so many days in a row, you soon start considering certain types of gray skies as 'sunny'. this afternoon it was overcast, but overcast like if you were making a sky out of layers of faded tissue paper.


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took a different route home; savored the incense burning in the el station; some small things caught my attention; ignored some big things; conversed with strangers; acquired objects


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your shameless self-promotion on facebook and gchat status makes me sick. you're not a good writer, only a good shmoozer. not to mention you can't dress yourself and the number 1 adjective that comes to mind when describing you is smarmy.