Juice (feignedrhapsody) wrote,

  • Mood:

Look at it out here, it’s all falling apart. I’m erasing you and I’m happy!

First and foremost I would like to know who is responsible for stealing my 11:00 o’clock.
Both of them.
They have recently gone missing and I miss them dearly.
Please return them.

What she crosses her fingers for is that if shaken, if properly stirred, her thousands of minuscule actions will dissolve and reform as a resolution of change contrary a disguise.


I woke up in a funk today.
Er… let me rephrase:
I’ve been in a funk all week, but ESPECIALLY today.
Well… I don’t know if I should be so dramatic as to say that I’m in a funk, but frankly what else can I call it? Funk, rut, dullsville, malaise—call it what you will, it’s here and I’m not the only one with it. My co-worker’s got it pretty bad, but she’s honoring the funk which sounds like a pretty good idea if you ask me. Celebrate the funk. Acknowledge its presence. Give in to the wants of the funk. Maybe if you stuff it full of reading fun fiction, yoga, eating comfort foods and shopping for little do-dads you don’t need but what are fun to have it’ll move along.

*grumbles* stupid funk…

You know what I hate the most about the funk? I become weepy. Very, very weepy… it’s a pathetic fallacy of mine that I’m going to (this time) contribute to the annoying and self-hating thoughts running amok in my head.

Of course it’s obvious that that’s never a good thing. It creates worry in my head. And I don’t need any additional worry—all the questions I have (life, job, what book I’m going to read next etc.) are PUH-LENTY for me to think about as it is. Unfortunately, I think I let it get the best of me the other day—just for a few hours, but still… I wasn’t at my best. And I like to be at my best. Or I like to try to be, at least.

On a different, but still probably funk related note; “lonely” seems to be a reoccurring theme at work, and it’s driving me a bit mad. Things wouldn’t be so bad if it was a public office and I got to talk with strangers all day, but instead I’m at this big fancy front desk all by my lonesome. I’ve gone so far as to download AIM at my place of work, and shuffling up down-up down my shortened buddy list is a horrible addiction… much like waiting for the evenings and having to procrastinate. I need to get on the patch… I need a “procrastination” patch so I might someday be able to allow the observable everyday organization to kick in.

I really should have worn that sweater instead of this damnable button-down shirt. If I didn’t know any better I’d swear I worked for penguins and not attorneys. *>.<*

So I have this awful tendency to talk to myself at work. Sometimes it’s work related, but a good majority of the time it’s just nonsensical inner monologues that find their way to my tongue. How is this related, you ask? Well, this morning I was in the file room wandering around looking for a patent that was apparently misfiled, and I asked myself, I asked:

Oh stability? Where have you gone?
And though I know she wasn’t talking to me, but to somebody in the hallway, a co-worker responded: “Perhaps it was lost in between these heavy pages?”
… perhaps it was.

Crazy? Yes I am.
But it’s translated most of the time and remains nothing but words, leaving me free to live my day-to-day delusions in a little saner state of mind.
Let’s see, what else have I been lately?
Overly dramatic?
No, definitely.
Here I am sitting here bitching about how cold the office is and blahblahblah when some people don’t have the luxury of gainful employment, some people wake up unsure if they will be breathing at the end of the day and some people don’t wake up at all.

How… grim.
I need my stability back.
I miss him.
I think perhaps I ought to stop rambling…besides, I am, indeed, at work.
And should, you know, be working.
Not to mention its lunch time
Funk is rearing its head.
It wants a raspberry and walnut wheat bagel and grape soda.

I am obeying the funk.
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