Monday..
Grey tinged and humid, driving
away from home and The Weekend.
Slotting back in to the organised
crawl. Wiper blades, intermittent, hypnotic lulling me away from the stop start
and the conversation on the radio, political.
I try not to have an opinion.
Arrival,
I give half-hearted hellos and
then look at the signing in sheet. Health and safety, not really for
attendance. What would happen if I didn’t sign it? Would I cease to exist in
the case of emergency?
I put my best scrawl in the box.
I wish I cared about these things as I should.
Breathe in,
I work on some files, putting the right things
in the right boxes. I hide away so that there’s little chance of being
bothered. I do alright for a while and then find myself suddenly staring at nothing. I’ve drifted;
become the me under the work face again, daydreaming. I can’t do this for long
without coming to a dead stop.
I wonder about doing something else, being a
more decisive person but it doesn’t last long.
I’m not that person, too twisty
in my thoughts and far too easily distracted by things. Traits not designed for
the realm of decision makers.
I look at my watch; I’ve been
rescued by dinner time and spend an hour looking at the world through on line
eyes.
Afternoon, people appear, damp, subdued
and wearing the grey of the outside world.
It begins,
I sit with each one individually
and give support but before too long, the whole thing somehow becomes a mismatch
of ideas and subjects, random and as far removed from job searching as it can
be. Relaxed attitude brings its own peril, or reward, dependant on how you look
at it. On this subject I have no choice; it’s my nature to be so. We converse
on common law, moon landing conspiracies and geometrical symbols. We touch on
the subject of poisonous tap water and the quasi nature of birth certificates.
It becomes a forum on the secret and unseen, the hidden truths that some of us
only half suspect. I make myself return to the present only to find someone
struggling against waves of meaningless job adverts. A small boat lost on the
wide and untamed sea of too much information. I take the wheel and steer him
toward the safer, calmer waters of “suitable vacancies”.
I’ve been here so many times,
I have to leave the room for a
moment, get away from the suddenly overbearing feelings brought on by the subjects
we’ve raised. All of this makes me think about the younger me, him not so deadened
by the office job and at home in the land of all things odd. Suddenly I feel tired and make
me way down to the kitchen for cold water and some space. I look out of the window;
trees are over grown because of the days of almost endless rain. Eyes wander
and take in the roof, the pools of standing water and how quickly it all
becomes green. For a second I shut out the sounds of traffic and I’m in that
future I suspect will come, one day. No more boxes for things to fit in just
nature left to run wild. I know my fellow Homo whatever we are at the moment and I have no place in
that future. I’m saddened by this.
My thoughts are broken as my
friend walks in to the room. The expression he wears tells me about his day so
far. We discuss our experiences of it all and unsurprisingly they echo each
other. The day has brought, as all of
them do, a good dose of the ridiculous.
We move to the door, laughing as
we do and just then he points at one of the window frames. Windows in
the building are old and ill-fitting and rain comes through them like sweat through
old skin. Recently painted white, to give the impression of newness and to comply
with the importance of appearances. At the top there’s old broken wood showing,
sharp like grey bone, sticking out from the new, fresh whiteness. A reminder of
what lies beneath sometimes, things we cover up so that none will see them. We
do it with everything, especially ourselves. We show others what we want to, very rarely what we are when we're really being us.
Everywhere, underneath everything, there are things
unseen..not least our futures.
