Stiched with color

Your absence has gone through me Like thread through a needle. Everything I do is stitched with its color.
—from "Separation" by W.S. Merwin

I thought this was such a beautiful line. Have been thinking a lot about the people I love and miss.

Call Center Blues

Sitting in a closet-sized room with one hour left to go on my call center duty for the day. It's been three weeks without one call. Actually, no. That's not entirely true. I did get an accidental call one day.

There I was, drowning in boredom as usual. That's when I heard it. . .The ding. Just like that, it was on. I eagerly hit the button to accept the call and followed along in my how-to call center guide. Deep breath. "Law School Call Center, how may I help you?"

No answer

I tried again, louder. LAW SCHOOL CALL CENTER, MAY I HELP YOU??!! Nothing. Time for emergency measures. I pushed the listen button, expecting to hear the chaos of an emergency situation only to hear the law professor continuing on like nothing had happened. Didn't he wonder why his podium was speaking to him? Was there a classroom full of students wondering why in the middle of corporate transactions a tiny excited voice was squeaking out in the middle of the room?

The world may never know.

take that Paul Revere

I just learned that you have to be 18 and under to be a fife player in the colonial Williamsburg fife and drum corps. Damn you Williamsburg! They leave me no choice. I guess I'm going to have to become a redcoat now.

I’m convinced that moving from the constant social atmosphere of college to the relative isolation of the “real world” has me building up the crazy. All the random thoughts, the paranoias, the stories with no point, and other hallmarks of my existence are forming a sort of “mental plaque” on my brain with nowhere to go.

I recently read that writing is like a cheaper version of therapy. So here goes . . .