No artist is pleased. There is no satisfaction at anytime.
There is only a queer, divine dissatisfaction,
a blessed unrest keeps us marching and makes us more alive than others.
-- Martha Graham to Agnes De Mille
Was || Will Be || Past Moments || Now || Notes

2001-06-26 - 12:44 p.m.

maybe i'm just a moron

there's this dude who works in my building (or at least he comes here every day) who is the most awkward human being i've ever seen. i kid you not. call him AwkwardGuy or JitteryDude. when he walks, he's in constant motion. wow, that sounded stupid. what i mean is that besides the act of walking, which he isn't very good at, the rest of his body is in motion. he jerks his head from side to side, like he was Ed McCaffrey after being tackled (watch him sometime, it's unnerving), and his hands are always fluttering around. he has this jerky, hesitating gait and he weaves from side to side. honestly, the first couple of times i saw him crossing the parking lot i thought he was drunk. once, he walked out of the building, across the parking lot, and when he reached the sidewalk, he bent over suddenly and stayed there for like five minutes. i think he might have been puking, but i couldn't tell because there was a tree in the way of his head.

on another note, i know that i'm a moron, but i hate looking like a moron, when i haven't been a moron. follow all that? i've been dealing with the home office today and i keep looking like a complete idiot. i'll make a bug fix and put it up on the server for them to test. a few hours later, they'll report the same bug, and i'll discover that someone has overwritten my code with a version that's a week old. today i found somehow that a very important line of code had been deleted. just one line. the rest of the file was fine. just the one line that would be most effective in making me look like a blithering idiot, or an outright liar.

i suspect that someone in the office has it in for me. either that or gremlins. or maybe miniature martians. perhaps a future version of myself has travelled back through time, snuck into the office in the middle of the night and wacked things out in an effort to get me fired, so that i'll go into music and become a huge, successful, rich, handsome, glorified international rock star instead of the overweight, bearded, suspendored, bitter, lonely, halitosis-laden international rock star i would otherwise become.

maybe i'm just a moron.

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