A Black Feather, A poison pen... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- after all, what else was i gonna do Weekend consumed in endless stream of numbers and research. It was just as well. I finished around 2 hours ago and am still caffeinated to the point of madness. no way in hell i am going into the office in my present state. especially considering that if i opted to go, i would need to be there in another 3 and 1/2 hours. if i fall asleep anytime soon, i can readily guarantee that i will not wake up in any kind of time to show at a decent hour for work hence i sent an email to my boss to see if she can't send someone down to pick up the hard-copy. classification, codification, some partial distraction. i will likely draw some small accolade from the brass around the agency, the bosses sounded off a mixture of relief and seeming elation over my willingness to take work with me. my willingness has nothing to do with whether or not they thank me for it, my name was attached to this project and i'll be more damned than i was to start with if i'm going to fail at this stage of things. after all, my work, for whatever it is or isn't worth, is the one thing i am consstently pretty goddamn good at. i can walk into the office with a level of confidence i've no reason to possess anywhere else in the world. contrary to Pahlaniuk's Fight Club protagonist and his Project Mayhem followers in the story, whatever is my job is whatever i am...for all practical purposes. i step outside the core of where my better skills of late seem to lie and i am just a stray neutrino, passing unsubstantially through the world 4:56 a.m. - 2003-03-03 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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