Walls

I like the green walls. Yes, I said it. I actually like the way that our walls look. And I don't think it makes me any less of a man to admit it. Okay, maybe a little. The thing is, I hate couches. Couches ubiquitously kind of suck. Except for the old grandma style couches that I like, but that the rest of the world has deemed old and grandma-like. Ergo; our modern looking couches kind of suck because they are couches. However, they look good with our green walls. The walls have somehow managed to redeem the couches. It's no wonder people painted every square inch of a room during the Renaissance, it was probably to cover up for all those crappy flea infested couches.

I'm embarking on a plan to paint everything in the world to brighten it up a bit. I'm planning on painting the walls of my cubical a friendly yellow, so that I enjoy the mornings more. I'm going to get a really tall step ladder and paint the night sky blue and all the stars pink. I'm going to.....

The green walls also go nicely with our little colorful rug. I'm not certain yet if they compliment the chest. However, the mere fact that I'm worrying about whether the walls in my living room match the mahogany of our storage chest is an indication (yet again) that something has gone horribly wrong in my life.

I'm also having this debate in my head about whether it is better to have a day off on a Monday or a Friday. Here is something else to think about
I spent all day thinking that it was Monday. And Monday's are pretty much regarded by those of us who work as the worst day of the week. But I said to myself, do you know what? maybe this is going to be the best Monday ever. Maybe all you need to turn a day around is a different kind of attitude. But then the day started, and it kind of sucked, and you forget about all the things you've promised yourself about today, and you just try and make it back to your door knob. And you can picture yourself turning the key, flipping on a light, and sitting down on the couch. You're not even certain that you enjoy the quiet, the sitting down, you just know that it seems familiar. And that no one is telling you to sit on the pale white couch with your socks up on the coffee table watching mindless television. It is so freeing to die the way you want.


YET ANOTHER INSTANCE OF THE POROUSNESS OF CERTAIN BORDERS (XXI)
by David Foster Wallace

AS IN THOSE OTHER DREAMS, I'm with somebody I know but don't know how I know them, and this person suddenly points out to me that I'm blind. Or else it's in the presence of this person that I suddenly realize I'm blind.

What happens when I realize this is I get sad. It makes me incredibly sad that I'm blind. The person somehow knows how sad I am and warns me that crying will hurt my eyes somehow and make them even worse, but I can't help it--I sit down and start crying really hard.

I wake up crying, and crying so hard in bed that I can't really see anything or make anything out or anything. This makes me cry even harder. My girlfriend is concerned and wakes up and asks what's the matter and it's a minute or more before I can even get it together enough to realize that I'm awake and not blind and that I'm crying for no reason and to tell my girlfriend about the dream and get her input on it.

All day at work then I'm super conscious of my eyesight and my eyes and how good it is to be able to see colors and people's faces and know just where I am, and of how fragile it all is, the human eye mechanism and the ability to see, how easily it could be lost, how I'm always seeing blind people with their canes and weird-looking faces and always thinking of them as just interesting to spend a couple of seconds looking at and never thinking they had anything to do with me or my eyes, and how it's really just an incredibly lucky coincidence that I can see instead of being one of those blind people I see on the subway.

And all day whenever this stuff strikes me I start tearing up again, getting ready to start crying, and only keeping myself from crying because of the cubicles' low partitions and how everybody can see me and would be concerned, and the whole day after the dream is like this, and it's tiring as hell, my girlfriend would say emotionally draining, and I sign out early and go home and I'm so sleepy I can barely keep my eyes open, and when I get home I go right in and crawl into bed at like 4:00 in the afternoon and more or less pass out.