Thursday, August 14, 2014

A quirky stream of conscious


Stolid blue eyes stare at me, along with thick white words: “The Great Gatsby.” I stare back at the eyes and trace the words in my mind. I give a smile of admiration.

Best $2 dollar purchase I've ever made.

A reminder of Fitzgerald’s book is permanently pressed upon my Barnes and Noble tote.

I’ve always thought it was genius to sell book-cover-art-merchandise. Is that what people call it? That’s what I call it. But the one thing about this selling of book-cover-art-merchandise that makes my skin crawl and teeth clench is when I see a fellow purchaser’s item and I tell them,
“I love your ____ (insert book-cover-art-merchandise item here). That’s one of my favorite books, who’s your favorite character (or whatever question about the book that comes to my mind)?” And they respond, “Oh, I haven’t actually read it.” You are kidding right. What would possess you to purchase an item with the book cover of a book you've never even touched the pages of? You thought you’d look hip and intellectual and now well, I’ll just refrain. I feel bad that my complimenting and question asking has become a test. I only ever compliment their item if I actually like it, but I might as well see if they've read the book, right? I mean, I’m only saving them from immense embarrassment in the future. Unless they don’t get embarrassed. Then, maybe just maybe, my “Oh, you really should read it,” will in fact induce them to do so. I just said the word “induce.” I hate when I use that word. I do not want to think about a little human, with my genetics, coming into the world yet. I’m just not ready. 

The tote sits on my white desk, which is actually a thick plastic folding table— the intern “desk.” A yellow box of tissues sits next to the tote, making its yellow city lights, permanently resting above Fitzgerald’s name, pop.

I look to my right. My plastic red water bottle sits with its lid open.

24 ounces out of 32. I've only drunken 8 ounces and I've had to pee three times! Oh yeah, I had tea too. Wait. What. This water bottle contains 32 ounces? I’m so glad my “desk” is closest to the bathroom.

A white mug sits in front of my water bottle. One forgotten sip of vanilla-chai tea sits at the bottom of the mug. A faint scent of the spices hangs in the air.

Yuck, how unpleasantly cold it would be if I sipped that last sip. 

My list of articles and tasks sits next to my water bottle, under my journal, I-phone, pen, and a vanilla-chai tea packet.

My paper looks like I imagine my mind does. Full of endless thoughts scattered in chaos.

More things are crossed, checked, and scribbled off the list than yesterday— my mind is starting to feel lighter.

Two thick white binders sit on the right corner of my “desk.”

The mystery binders. Why don’t I just look inside them, so I’ll stop calling them the mystery binders? But, I actually like calling them the mystery binders, so I won’t. I really want to decorate their covers, almost as much as I want to decorate the blank wall in front of me.

I often look out the window to my left. Today the sky is as white as the binders, except a few gray smudges that look like an artist's charcoal covered  thumb was the culprit. The overcast day seems to make everyone in the office calmer.

On cloudy days like this I want nothing more than to drink endless cups of hot black coffee (minus the caffeine induced heart attack…I said induce(d) again), wear warm fuzzy socks, listen to oldies (at least I am listening to Billie Holiday on my Spotify, if only the whole office could be filled with her magical raspy voice) and read a good classic book. A book like The Great Gatsby. That tote really is the best $2 purchase I’ve ever made.

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