Monday, June 04, 2007

Chinese water torcher

Chinese water torcher sounds like a beach vacation compared to this vanilla, flickr- decorated cubicle.
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I'd rather chew on a piece of polished cherry wood for dinner than allow the halogen lighting to soak into my pupils.
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With one foot out the door, the skin of my office has melted away and now I see it with a different exterior: Vanilla nine to fiver's. Single women who stay late, Men who have spent too many years in their exclusive office of bare walls and plastic plants. Holding a key to the lock of their office door, a door held by plaster walls that took half a day to erect.
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"We should be proud to have such a key"- says many. and if they don't say it, then insinuate it. and if they don't insinuate it. they accept it.
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This is what it is to be adult. "We are spoiled with choices" I tell a friend. "We search for love when the dough is right in front of us, pre-mixed together, it's just needs a little kneading."
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My foot is out the door. It will not take long. I walk my bike around the corner to my desk and the pedal easily chips at the wall corner. "This wall will be removed, to make room for more offices, so people with raises can feel that their job is worth it." I think. Add another key to your chain, one for the mailbox, the bike lock, your office, your home. Everything must be stored away and safe.
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When the second foot follows, I assume everything will fall into place. As it always does, the element of unknown excites me. A needed ingredient to create new opportunities. But it is without risk. I quote from a close friend of mine dances in my head: Jump and the net will appear. I like to jump, despite my fear of heights. Something is always created with the acceptance of taking chances. Moving forward is, however not really taking a "chance", it's not creating a "challenge". It's just being no?
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Drip Drip. Right on my forehead- Chinese water torcher of adulthood. How did our parents do it? Day in Day out. Out in Out in. Day out. Day in.
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I would not be surprised if a week off would clear out my Noggin'. A few days of digging septic tank ditches for Tsunami rebuilding in 110 degree weather is a fond memory in my mind. Even if the hole kept collapsing from the beach sand. Give me a shovel and let me dig. I'm sick of these halogen lights.
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At this point, throwing ripened mangoes at a brick wall would be art. Cleaning my trash bin would be a soul enriching experience!
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"Summer is here!" I whine, the spoilt Ginrod whine. "why must I be inside 9 hours a day when I can show the world my epidermis?!!?" I secretly want to whisper to the farmers, the horse trainers, the winemakers "Take me with you, I'll be good, the cubicle will eat me alive if I go back." "I sing, I dance, I still remember my cheer leading dance. ack! please?"
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