Even SecraTerri Gets The Blues
trapped on the uppermost floor of a burning building.
the office fills with smoke, people are running and screaming and
battling for space on the single working elevator ... but somehow I am
managing to remain perfectly calm.
just crawl out the window," I suggest to Cass and Michelle. I point to a
window-washer's platform, hanging conveniently outside of our
forty-bazillionth-floor window. "We can sit out there where it's safe
and wait for the rescue squad to reach us."
have a little trouble hoisting Cass out the window -- Denny and I both
have to push her from behind -- but eventually we all make it onto the
platform. As we sit there with our legs dangling over the edge of the
platform, waiting to be rescued, I tell John that I've always preferred
"Twelve Thirty" over "California Dreaming." ("California Dreaming is
overplayed on good-time oldies stations," I say. "It's like the rest of
your catalog simply doesn't exist." John says that he agrees, and that
he's glad to have a fan who pays so much attention to such things.)
Michelle starts screaming. "Look!" she shrieks. "The fire is following
us out the window!" And she points to the edge of the platform, where
flames have begun licking at the ropes that hold us suspended above the
John says, shaking his head safely. "Nowhere is safe anymore, man."
* * * * * *
don't like to write *FootNotes* entries when I'm depressed.
don't like to write them when I'm exhausted, either ... or when I'm
painfully premenstrual, or when I'm trying to stay focused on learning
something new (but my brain feels like day-old Quaker Oats), or when I
don't have enough time to be clever and insightful, or when I'm hungry,
or when I'm headachey, or when I'm having computer problems, or when
I'm missing my kids, or when I'm simply feeling a little SADD and
overwhelmed and bogged-down by life itself.
has made writing the past few days a real problem, since that's pretty
much my life in a nutshell at the moment.
the past, I've learned that sometimes the best thing for me to do --
whenever I find myself mired in the sort of malignant black depression
that has plagued me all week -- is to just lay low for a while. Don't
say much. Don't think much. Don't write much. Let basic motor function
take over, as much as possible: get up/go to work/come home/go to
sleep. And since I can't just curl up into a nice safe little fetal
knot and hide under the comforter all day, then I need to pick one
area of my life and stay focused on that, as much as possible, until
the internal storm has blown over and my normal, nauseatingly
optimistic spirits return. (And they will return.
They don't call me the Oprah of Internet Journaling for nothing.)
this week: I've picked the new job to focus on.
thrown all of my (extremely limited/extremely fragile) time, energy
and thought *molecules* into learning the ropes at the new office.
that "the ropes" are all that complicated, mind you. Mostly I'm
standing in front of a Xerox machine all day, churning out endless
bazillion-page reports about dirt. (Or else standing in front of a
cabinet all day, filing endless bazillion-section files about dirt. Or
standing in front of the UPS guy, signing for endless
bazillion-pound boxes full of dirt.) But there is also all of the
other, new-workplace-related stuff to learn, of course: dress codes,
office politics, where they keep the Pilot Pens and the Gummy Bears,
how to operate the postage meter/the coffeemaker/the scary
electronic hole-puncher ... how early is 'too early' to take a coffee
break ... who among my co-workers is worth cultivating as a *resource*
of information and support, and who is simply an officious prick, best
sort of stuff.
kept me busy and distracted. It's given me a reason to get up and get
dressed in the morning. It's made it easier for me to fall asleep at
night. (Exhaustion is a good thing, occasionally.) And it's prevented
me from dwelling too much on stuff I have absolutely no control over
... like time changes. And PMS. And rain. And long dark commutes. And
my poor, forlorn, abandoned Internet journal.
like the fact that no place feels "safe" anymore.