At Least They're Committed

Ruthless. Ruthless is how I feel as I stand, arms crossed, staring out the window of the newly vacated office across the hall. I want it. I look behind me to ensure no one is noticing and I sigh, step forward and survey the gray clouds and buildings new and old across the skyline that lead to the prairie lands of Lamar and, oh, hell, I forget what else is out there. It’s not a mountain view, but there’s sunshine and that’s something.

Seeing the wind pick up, the storms roll in, the lightning, the rain and, yes, even the snow calls to my spirit. It piques my interest and stirs my creativity. I haven’t felt inspired in a while and now it lays heavy on me as I second-guess every little thing I put out there.

Troubling, troubling, curiouser and curiouser times. When I began writing this yesterday, I said that, yes, maybe the crazies do bother me because maybe I’d forgotten about THOSE kinds of crazies. The kind who come in to say “thank you” for a great article and smack your ass. The ones who, unprovoked, quickly lean forward and kiss you. The ones who follow you and taunt you, demanding your loyalty or friendship. The ones who badger, insult and accuse you. The ones that make you question where exactly you went wrong with this person that has enabled him to get belligerent, insulting, possessive or violent. I thought maybe I’d blocked those others out of my mind, preferring instead to remember the amusing ones. Or maybe they’re just amusing in my memory. But I was wrong yesterday.

Today a young man came into the office with some old paperwork and a sealed, child’s toy of sorts to give to the head here. It was a magician’s kit. As I looked at the shiny black, gray and red box with the enigmatic and controversial magician figure on the front who I won’t name, it hit me like a welcome sucker punch that this precious former employee is the crazy I’m talking about. The arrogant, egotistical, inappropriate, fat, bloated, old dudes who have pestered me are not crazy, just assholes.

I finally put a picture on my “future” wall in my office. After much thought, it’s the only thing that came to mind: A crayon drawing DS made while in elementary school. He doesn’t remember what the assignment was, but I always found it all-knowing, insightful, deep and compelling. It belies and attacks a world of corruption, evil, exploitation and ruthlessness. It would look even better, however, if the sun were to shine on it, like, maybe through a window. If it’s not too ruthless of me, maybe I could take the office with the window after the blood cools. I promise I won’t jump.