Perspective

So I think I've pretty much got it made. Even if I go to work tomorrow and mess it up six ways from Sunday. Even if I continue to grimace when I walk past reflective surfaces and catch a glance of myself in that unflattering mid-stride where you wonder how you were able to convince yourself that going out with high-water sweat pants and flip flops-even for a second-was an acceptable outside look. When I'm down in the mouth because I have too much spare time and can practically export angst, I've got so much of it lying around, even then, I've got it made.

A few days ago a co-worker told me two horrible stories about what we are capable of doing to one another. In one, a woman, a foreigner in the country she was in, was kidnapped, violated by a group for a week, left for dead, then they returned to pick her up again and violate her for several more days before she was finally released. It was horrible and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. I wondered whether there was mercy in her survival--how does one recover or move past something like that? The other story is worse--I won't trouble your mind as mine has been with these stories tumbling around. How does a soul allow such darkness to come in and take hold? Why does mankind time and time again have to intervene in some regime's systematic slaughter of another? How does that happen? Systematically? Like an entire apparatus designed to exterminate? Brutally, scarring both mind and body? I feel I can say with confidence that I would never participate in such a thing that there is no space in my heart or soul to do that to another living thing or person but then who are the people who do? Could I be that different from that many people?

Abrupt subject change: I had a very strange and weirdly palpable dream this morning in that sweet snooze spot after the alarm where you sometimes slip back into a great nap. In my old office, there were two strange men who both possessed a startling lack of self awareness and were floating around my office because no one else would have them. I called them Lazy Bob and Crazy Bob. In this dream, we were living together in my current place and all worked together in the same office, literally the same office--all three of us--same room. It was the strangest dream for reasons that words are inadequate to capture. It was one of those dreams you keep expecting throughout the day to break into your reality. Anyway, just wanted to share.

Welcome Erik and thanks for your oh-my-God-we're-all-going-to-die informative, and entertaining post. If only I could watch you tell that story in person, rocking back in your chair, artfully sprinkling f-bombs throughout your story with that trademark inflection...