So I’ve been busy. I mean REAL busy. Okay, check that…just regular busy in case some of you are paying attention. God, you all are some Checky McCheckersons, aren’t you?
There has been:
More hours at work.
Finishing a 10 minute script for a play festival.
Working on my poetry manuscript.
Trying to find a publishing home for said script.
Reading script submissions.
Working on things around the house.
Being a man about town.
I know…excuses, excuses. You all are some Judgy McJudgersons, too. You don’t wanna read about why I’ve been too busy. You want to hear about the time I peed on my cookie? Too bad you’ll have to wait till TMI Thursday for that.
Instead I’ll give you another glimpse into the weirdness that is Jimi. At work (and everywhere really), I tend to have little games to keep me from going crazy.
Fine, crazier. Jerks.
Games like the Force Field one.
This game usually takes place in the long hallways in the bowels of the museum. Throughout these halls are all manner of things. There are various tables waiting to go to or from storage, cases from the galleries and containers to ship the art. As I walk down these halls, I tend to pretend my fingers are a man—pointer and middle fingers are the legs. The upper body is all imagined—just go with it—and I make this finger-legged person walk across these various surfaces.
Then as these people get closer to the edge, they begin to run. Yes, they RUN toward the edge and certain doom. These finger-legged people are always suicidal. They willingly jump to their death—only mid leap, they regret it.
No, I don’t do their voices…that would be weird.
Okay fine, I do their voices.
“I’m going to end it all!” (jump) “Oh, nooooo! What have I done? I want to live.”
They don’t live. On occasion they make it to the next table or container. Once more they run and jump. Again they wish they hadn’t but to no avail.
What could make this worse? The answer is a coworker catching me.
What could make that worse? Surely not me explaining what it is I was doing.
Yep. I explained it to them. They listened in what could only be described as a paralysis based on fear.