elevator dreams

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= F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. =
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elevator dreams
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another day. i went to get lunch. i stood and waited for
one of my co-workers, and this guy did the typical get
in my way, i get out of his way, he gets in my way dance
near the soda machine. a woman who worked there came up
to me and opened her mouth as wide as possible and cackled,
revealing a mouth full of missing teeth and and ranch
dressing on her breath. she said loudly, "Shall we dance,
madam?" it seemed heinous that the word madam should ever
escape from her lips, and i pretended not to hear her.

i got in the elevator, chatting inanely about work troubles
with my co-worker. i watched an unattractive women with
a nice body pick lipstick off of her teeth while she
examined herself in the mirrored elevator walls.

i got to my desk and stared at a web site unseeingly while
i chewed on my toneless sandwich. i studied the grey walls
in my office and imagined cracking the heads of the developers
i work with while my office mate giggled insanely as he
tried to fix a problem, his newly bought lunch sitting
untouched on his desk.

i read and responded to e-mail methodically, sipping coffee,
and tried to fix our slow web site. visions of art twisted
in my mind, and i longed to be home in my bathrobe, photoshop
in front of me, graphics tablet in my lap.

xterm -e vmstat 1&
ps -ef | grep httpd

netstat -rn

unix, #include, blah blah. i am so tired of unix, so tired of
my job, so tired of Colorado. i would rather be in a remote
house with 5 cats and a freelance web design business and
someone who would come home and ruffle my hair, pour me
a glass of wine, ask me how my day was. i am tired of the clubs
and the booze and the useless conversation. last night i read
metamagical themas and burned candles and listened to classical
music. that is me, not this baseball cap wearing tomboy
who fixes web sites and broken builds and silly e-mail problems.
no one is going to die if they don't get their princess diana
update. she is already dead, nothing we can do. fuck 'em if they
can't take a joke.

my brother called last night, freshly installed in college,
his voice vibrant and happy. i spoke to him with a smile on
my face and a light tone, but i felt grey, lifeless. i would
give the world to trade places with him, and regret my decision
to not finish school, give up my life and loved ones in NY to
be out here, alone. he is learning and debating and making new
friends. i envy him.

life is too still, out here.

demonika

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