I was listening to a newbie at work complain about how poorly a customer of hers was treated by a previous rep, and I thought that I'd rather eat my head than listen to her rant on. I quite obviously stepped out of hearing range, and *poof* she disappeared. I don't remember what she looks like, I don't know what floor she's on, and if she said something to me in passing again, I wouldn't have the faintest idea who she was. There's something sad there, but I find it hard to muster much more than just that.
Worse though, is the fact that I speak to so many people that they all just blend into some mumbojumbo mix-up of Shakitas or Billy Joe Bradys, or better, a flash numbers that are combinations of social security numbers, and account numbers and the occasional area code. When people state that they are feeling like a number... well, you are, honey. You are.
I rarely plug in my own cellphone anymore, and I haven't made any overtures to friends, new and old. I'm writing less online, and retreating more, and I simply want to curl up with my girl beside me, and dream the whole night and next day away. I'm not sad or depressed, but I haven't wanted to do much more than play a game of cribbage with my daughter in bed, or walk arm in arm late at night with her downtown.
The days are hot and sticky, and even in the sub-zero airconditioned building I can feel temperatures rise. It's only at night, when I'm finally free! that I look forward to that sigh that comes with taking off socks and shoes, and the old underwire contraption. I've spend late hours reading books from new and old authors, and spent early mornings waking up to enjoy an hour or two alone with a coffee and some scribbling of phrases and sketches.
I went to the beach the other evening, and I floated on my back for awhile, the shrieks and laughter of children muted by water in my ears. I watched heavy clouds hang in the air, and I even saw a dragonfly zip overhead. It smelled like rain, Coppertone, and life. I was alone, although I was surrounded by other swimmers.
I can still feel the water beneath me.