writing 10.3.08

Boring, idle silliness fills the spaces in my brain. Today, I’m full of anticipation for a big project I’m working on to be O-V-E-R.

This project is dragging on longer than a country road in Ohio. But, instead of turning back around I find the courage (or stupidity, or pure responsibility-it is my job after all) to grin and bear it. I hit the accelerator and find the words flying past me on the screen. I’m on cruise control and the faster I see the road in my rearview the better. Before I know it, the sun is high in the sky and I’ve made it past the most treacherous portion of the road. I take lunch as my reward and my hands are happy to be off the keyboard highway. Now, they keep themselves busy carrying forkfuls of salad to my eager mouth. My work partner, Bernadette, keeps me company and as we eat laughter fills the gaps in our conversation. But as our lunch progresses, images of the keyboard highway come to mind and I am reminded of the long journey that lies ahead of me. There are still many, many miles to be traveled today and so we begin our trek back to the office. As we meander through the West Village back to our desks we stumble upon a thrift store. Considering it’s a Friday and neither of us are particularly looking forward the project we’re returning to, we go in. My hands find themselves pouring over abandoned treasures and once they grab onto a snakeskin belt they refuse to let go. I pacify them and make the purchase and we are back at our desks within ten minutes. As I sit down to continue my journey I find myself unable to merge seamlessly onto the keyboard highway and instead am attracted by the bright lights of the Internets. Unfortunately, I end up wasting a good 20 minutes before my better judgment makes an appearance and demands the hands to get back on the highway. She’s such a drillmaster. Sometimes I wish she’d just take a chill – the whole point of having a creative job is to enjoy the process, after all. Sheesh! But alas, I know she’s right. Luckily, the hands don’t put up a fight and we’re back on the keyboard highway in no time. Autopilot turns on and the words fly past the screen at terrifying speeds. The remainder of the day passes this way and I exit the keyboard highway unscathed (thanks autopilot!) and full of optimism for the weekend.