I have been wanting to write pretty much every moment of every day since I started working.
Waves of stories plague my mind and I have to take my eyes off the excel table on my computer screen and stare at a corner of my cubicle for just a second, just to feel their touch and then, inevitably and always with regret, I have to let them go to continue whichever mundane task I have to waste my brain with.
Those excel tables translate into the ability to have adventures and experiences with my girl and I am truly thankful. But my boss is crazy and that’s made some days. I don’t mean crazy as in I say she’s crazy just because her attitude is wrong or the way she treats others is horrible, but crazy as in she’s sick with anger, resentment and low self esteem and needs lots of help. And probably love too.
And I’ve been wanting to write about how my little girl loves to sit with my ninety three year old grandma in her bed and look at magazines and my hearts feels so full I have to hold my breath at the thought.
I wanted to write about that house’s street corner. How it looks so bland and boring now but twenty years ago we talked about it at least once a month because cars kept crashing on it, breaking the gate and hitting the house, basically parking inside the living room.
The other day I had to make a call to the customer service department of the company I worked for several years ago and the guy that gave me the orientation sounded very much like the trainer from hell that I had there and thought I should write about it because, he’s still there being miserable.
And I was thinking the other day while driving that when I was in college I used to hit the signal light stick with such power it sounded as if I was going to break it and now I barely touch it and that must be some kind of life parallel.
A couple of days ago the gossip dude at work came up to me just to ask me if I have a boyfriend and I said no one in that building should ask me that question so he said “oh, it was going to be in your interest but ok” and I somehow reached into my pocket of sass, unused since approximately 2008 and got out a “oh! Is someone giving me money?!” And everyone that looks at me knows I couldn’t care less about money but that shut that dude down like BURNED. He turned around to say “this one thinks she’s the smartest cookie around here!” And now he limits his interactions to the appropriate good morning only.
I definitely had something to write about the night we had a tropical depression coming through the island and at some point during the night I woke up with my heart racing because the rain was pounding on the windows and the wind was blowing and I felt fleeting despair. It took me about twenty minutes to control my body from going into full on emergency mode. During the day gas stations had been full with hour long lines from everyone filling their tanks. Water and non-perishables ran out in some supermarkets because people remembered how there was thirst and hunger on the days after the Hurricane Maria. A few moments later while I was trying to convince myself I could sleep the power went off and I prepared myself to deal with the power generator for weeks. The power came back about an hour later and it was morning when I stopped waiting for it to go off again.
But alas, I haven’t written the stories that knocked my brain and thus, this must make do.