Tuesday, June 13, 2006

Clarity

In a rush, the course of the next five years rushed over me while I was sitting at work today. I could see everything, the way it would fit together, all of that. It was a little breathtaking. The pieces were all there, but my mind just hadn't put them together yet. When it did, I had to stand up for a second, a bit dizzied by possibility.

Then I filled my water bottle and got back to the long process of making whos into whoms through grammar magic.

It's a bracing thing, clarity. It makes you take stock of who you are, what you want. And that's a good thing.

Gotta get some TV pieces up for some folks who might be visiting the ol' blog, but I'll leave you with this observation.

At my job, the breakroom is sort of a cafeteria type setting, only rather small. Picture your school lunchroom cut into sixths and one of those sixths randomly migrating to a Southern Californian newspaper. Got it? Good.

Anyway, I don't go to the breakroom all that often, but when I do, the same two people are always there. One of them is a tall, thin man, probably in his mid-20s, wearing thick-rimmed glasses that give him a look of pseudo-intellectualism. He's constantly tossing back his long, greasy black hair like a horse. The other is a girl, probably slightly older than him, who always wears black. She's like the archetype they built the funny best friend of a million sitcoms around. He's always reading the newspaper, indifferent to her. She's always trying to make him laugh, to get his attention, to get him to love her.

EVERY TIME I go down there, these people are there. I've seen them as early as 9:30 a.m. and as late as 10 p.m. I mostly go down there in the afternoon, so that's when I usually see them. As far as I can tell, they don't WORK in the cafeteria, though I assume they work for some part of the paper, since they'd need a badge to get in the building anyway.

Until another possibility presented itself.

Are these two people just in a sitcom I can neither see nor hear? Am I just an extra in this sitcom, convinced I have my own life, but not really living outside of my occasional contacts with them? If I walk up and talk to them, will the person playing me in the sitcom get his SAG card? Will he cry and call his mother?

Or, if I talk to them, if I confront the fragile reality of my sitcom universe, will I simply cease to exist?

See, that's why I've gotta do what I've gotta do. At any point, I could be canceled.

2 comments:

Bill Cunningham said...

I'm sorry, but it's even worse than you think.

You are on a sitcom on UPN, and you aren't making the transition to The CW.

My condolences...

Chopped Nuts said...

Are you sure they're not watching you? Try to remember - did you say something mean about the Prez over the phone?

If your blog disappears and my phone line starts getting weird clicks on it I'm afraid I'm going to have to deny knowing you three times before the cock crows. Nothing personal. I mean I like you and all... it's just that I'm too pretty to die.