Today I am told that I am unprofessional for standing by the
current standards of my place of employment when in reality I am supposed to be
following a vision that is two years down the road, as if it has already been
adopted and instituted.
I am often capable of incredible feats of psychic
ability.
I am notorious for looking at the clock or waking up
precisely when it's a certain time, like 12:34 or 4:44 (which I saw three times
yesterday -- once on my alarm clock when I woke up during the night, once on
the train ticker while waiting to go into Boston, and once on the stopped clock
during the Bruins game at the Garden) or our personal family favorite, 6:22
because for some reason, every morning we look at the clock before school/work
and it's always 6:22.
I sometimes "smell" goals in sporting events
before they happen, or smell approaching snow when none is predicted. Sometimes I can sense what songs will be
playing on the radio, start humming them, and then find they're played right
afterward. Once I was explaining to
someone the meaning of synchronicities and how often they happen to me when the
exact Sting song "Synchronicity" came on the radio.
I am also well-known for my penchant of bringing up people's
names in conversation only to have them suddenly appear out of nowhere right
behind me. This can happen even if I am
in Boston and they are in another state.
I swear they teleport to where I am.
I could be talking about the Queen of England, and the bitch would knock
on my door. I have perennial
Foot-In-Mouth Disease.
I'm like some mutated form of idiot savant.
However clairvoyant I may seem, though, I am not
precognitive. I do not have the actual
physiological ability to intellectually predict what will happen two years down
the road, therefore how can I possibly be so professional as to practice a
workplace tenet that does not exist yet?
I mean, I'm good, but I'm not that good.
Seriously. I am so
fucking unprofessional that I do not know what is being planned behind
everyone's backs for the next twenty-four months. How in the name of all frigging things holy
can I possibly still even be employed? I
must be the stupidest person on the planet if I don't know that what we have in
place today certainly cannot be correct since it's not the plan for 2016.
Dumb, dumb.
Dumb. Dense, dense, dense.
So, for the second time in less than four weeks, I am
rendered speechless at my job. Speechless.
Me. The woman of multi-syllabic
words, contorted clauses, phrenetic phrases, and run-on sentences. Worldess.
Mute. Abso-fucking-lutely unable
to utter a response.
I return to my post completely shell-shocked. It takes me forty-five minutes just to calm
myself down, muttering to myself under my breath like a mental patient. Feeling like I'm in some alternate
bell-jar-like, Plath-riddled Nowhere Land.
I feel like any zest I had before this moment has been scraped down to
the quick. Quite frankly, I'm starting
to wonder if I've gone insane.
Today there is no reserve left in my seemingly boundless
tank of optimism. Today in addition to
being rendered speechless, my spirit has been crushed. I feel like the butt of some giant cosmic
joke, and that I am the idiot that didn't "get it." The moron.
The lunatic.
I am Randle Patrick McMurphy after Nurse Ratched got to
him. I am RP McMurphy waiting in the
hospital in a vegetative state for my savior the Chief to come and smother me
with a fucking pillow. There's nothing left
but to count down the weeks, days, hours, minutes, seconds until this year is
over. After all, apparently it's 2016
and I don't even fucking know it.
Might as well just fire me now.
