Wednesday, December 8, 2010

Ground Control to Major Tom

Out my window I see a man wearing a giant, white space suit.

I’m not kidding.

From the office of my new job writing for a technology giant, I can see the laboratory where Space Suit Man does his thing. No clue what he’s got going over there. Something freaky that requires the wearing of space suits, that’s all I got.

I don’t feel so different from him. My space suit is office-friendly. The scientific jargon I speak is filled with acronyms and puffy words like ‘leverage’ and ‘bandwidth’.

My fellow space travelers in this capsule are kind to me. But I can see how life in the Cube can squish out the soul of things. Quietly, non-threateningly. And it happens quickly.

I get home after two long bus rides and enduring whatever weather the skies have shared. It’s dark. I feel confused. I’ve forgotten what it is that I usually do in my own space.

Perhaps it will come to me.

I sit in front of the TV and hope to remember soon. The kitty climbs in my lap and that’s real nice.

What was I saying?

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