I feel like every time I’ve hung up the phone or walked out of a room or gotten out of an elevator in the last two weeks, I have had worn expression of utter befuddlement.
If you watched a video that captured just my face twenty-four/seven, you’d think something was wrong with the recording because it would keep repeating the same scene over and over: squint, lateral ponytail twitch, pucker lips, soundless “what?” As in—”did that just happen? What was that?” Do not adjust your monitor; I really do keep living that scene!
It’s like it’s started to take just as long for new information to reach my Logic Synapses or my Socially Acceptable Gauge as it does to process it through to my long term memory. So, it’s not until the moment right after a conversation ends or an event is over that it hits me how tremendously odd it was.
And even though I don’t usually censor much for the blog—I either just go there or I go somewhere else entirely—I can’t even provide diluted allusions without compromising personal and professional trust. You’ll just have to take my word for it: everyone I know is bonkers. Charming, for sure, but bonkers.
This is what I’m listening to in this chaotic alterna-dimension:
Storm by Lifehouse
She Says by Ani DiFranco
This Isn’t Farmlife by The Essex Green
Galang by M.I.A.
But, Honestly by Foo Fighters
