I hold my body in a single, tense position for 6-8 hours per day in 60-90 minute stretches. Periodically, I wet my lips with lukewarm water, then back to the tap tap clicking, copying and pasting what I've found to be emailed or shared at our weekly check-in. And this is my dream job. Was my dream job.
I'm living my dreams.
At night, we sometimes walk. Humid, summer air. My insides tingle from what happens to insides when they sit all day. I talk too much. You tire of my company.
At home, I rotate between reading, cleaning and typing. Searching for friendship in research or email. Sometimes I play piano. I blog. I queue things up. I Facebook and Myspace.
Scrabulous. WordTwist.
Update my status:
She is procrastinating,
Wishing for old friends,
Too busy to be on here,
Tired, at the library,
At home, hungry,
Lost, missing things that are no more,
Always thinking of the future or the past.
We've made some friends. We drink wine and watch youtube. We wonder why we swell. Why the malaise, the yellowed skin, the loss of interest in
things we once found so interesting.
At night, I employ ergonomics to comfort muscle spasms and carpel tunnel syndrome.
We give up meat, dairy, gluten, alcohol.
We search for meaning.
We read about nutrition. Food blogs. Youtubes of juice fasting.
It is a foreign language:
NPR, NYT, Democracy Now, global warming, internet porn, Youtube, Blogspot, Netflix, Facebook, Gmail, Webmail, Myspace, Bandcamp,
Wii.
we
get carried away with typing.
Modernity.
