Me Write Again, Good

I decided this week to come back from hiatus from writing the blog. A lot of folks have asked if I was ending it, given the fact that I took a break shortly after writing this post, which is about walking away from things. The answer, as you can see now, is no.

I just have two severe afflictions which have contributed to my having a career in writing in the first place: not thinking about the juxtaposition of two separate actions (like, say, writing a blog post about walking away from something without saying that's what you're doing, and taking a break from it... Or, playing with matches during a drought and setting a Hooters on fire),  a lack of understanding (or, at least, concern) of the consequences.

I decided to work from home today, and just a bit ago, I ended the morning's work. My morning work includes doing anything related to scheduling, planning, logistics, spreadsheets, writing checks, paying bills or anything clerical. I find it best to finish those things early, because once my brain fully wakes up, all it wants to do is run free in a field of mental dandelions and marvel at the beauty of thoughts floating on the breeze and all that irresponsible horseshit which gets you evicted from your house because you didn't pay the mortgage.

And I thought, since today is a pretty day and I'm feeling a bit spunky, I'd get back to writing the blog. It'll be a good thing, and I can finally stop receiving emails asking why I'm not writing my blog anymore and how much it upsets some people (and, in two cases, thrilled them). Which, while those emails are very appreciated and sweet (except two of them, which were ignored because I don't have time for people who have nothing but time to write kneejerk bullshit all day), make me feel bad for disappointing people.

I decided it was a good time to watch a little Netflix while I write. I also thought that it'd be nice to not have to flip between windows on my laptop, so I flipped on the TV with the intent of streaming it through one of my several game consoles. Just as I hit the power button on the remote for the television, I heard a crash coming from the kitchen.

Shit. Oh well, I had to make coffee anyway, so at least dealing with whatever just collided with the ground wasn't out of my way.

With a sigh and a grumble, I plodded into the kitchen to survey the damage. It seemed that the cat, being a cat, got curious and hopped up on the kitchen island I used as a drawing desk last night. He was sniffing around and, again, being a cat, decided that the tray of Copic markers sitting near the edge would work better on the floor. So with all the polite courtesy he could muster in his fat front paw, he knocked it over. I did not need to be in the room to know this is how it happened; I know my cats. They're all assholes.

As I began picking up markers, I heard a... Noise. That's really the only word to describe it. It wasn't a crash like I'd heard when the markers hit the floor, or the gurgling of the Kuerig spitting out my coffee, or the birds chirping through the open windows... No. This was shrill. This was painful. This was excruciating. It was like a migraine in my ears.

Have you ever seen The Matrix? (If not, by the way, feel free to either remedy that or never, ever tell me you haven't, because you should have by now, what's wrong with you, have you been living under a rock, all that.) That face Neo makes the first time they plug the jack into his head and he enters the training program? The sound that occurs during that scene? It was like that... Only there was no training program with white walls and Morpheous to explain to me what just happened, nor was there a relief from the screeching and thumping in my head.

It was then that I realized that the television had been left on NBC from the night before, and since I didn't think to swap over to the console for Netflix, I had just set myself up to be accosted by the worst non-lethal weapon known to man: Kathy Lee and Hoda on the Today show.

My face twisted to look like Arnold Swarzenegger in Total Recall when he pulls the grip off the chair and stabs the guy in the neck. My brain melted out of my ears. I began to feel stupider.

My IQ dropped, like, REALLY fast, like when that Metroid girl gets in the lava and the health bars aren't red anymore cause they start going down, and there are alarms and stuff... And I can't clean up the mess from my kitty cause this is really bad for me, it hurting and I no like. Kathy Lee's voice hurt me in my ears and my ears lead to my head and my head hurt. Kathy Lee voice bad. Bad is bad. I want bad to stop.

I move slow. I try move fast, I not move fast. Head hurt too bad. I move foot... Foot move slow. Step in pile of goo that was brain dripping out ear. Not thinking anymore. Can't think without brain. Brain now goo. Move like roach... Instinct. Scramble to tv. Screaming. Stop screaming. Focus. Where power button? Button. There. Power. PUSH.

I collapsed.

Slowly, I regained consciousness. I couldn't feel my legs, arms, happiness, sadness, remorse... I couldn't tell if air was passing through my nostrils into my lungs or if I was just hearing the wheezing sound of a desperate man begging for the pain to stop. Slowly, I rolled over to my stomach, pushed myself up to my knees, shook the cobwebs from my head, and chased my cat away from rubbing his butt across my arms while I was trying to get up.

And that's what I decided to share with you today: If ever you work from home, and your cat knocks over some shit in your kitchen as you turn on the TV, before you go to investigate, FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE, make sure that it isn't left on NBC with Kathy Lee and Hoda. Because that shit is bad.

Bad, I tell you.