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2001-08-15 / 1:27 p.m. ~Morning Clarity and Animal Cruelty~ **Hey, first, before anything else, please read this. Thanks.** Economy of movement, no motion wasted, each a design of efficiency with specific intent, attention paid to accomplishment and time allowed. Taking the inside of the curve, knowing it's the fastest route, straightening out to the middle on the straightaway. And I see this, it's clear to me, yet I see others struggling with the steering, the juggling of cell phone in one hand and coffee in the other, and it's hard to steer a curve with one hand holding on to that person on the phone, isn't it? Then, at work, coffeed, bathed, dressed, constitutionalized completely, I make mention of outdated resource materials and am reminded of my Superior being fairly un-superior, being actually sort of kind of inferior. I have to say that yes, area codes are changing daily, zip codes too, and it would really help in the efficiency department if the resources at our disposal were of the current year. Oh, but I'm a peon, I have no authority, I can add my two cents, but especially if I say something which is a little too logical, I need to be put off a bit, held down, I must be told, with little degree of subtlety, that I am not in charge, and do not make the decisions. I love that part. Then I can sit back and say, Well, this place sucks, it's clear that what needs to happen, on any level, never will, why if only I were in charge�well, then things would be different. But I don't want to be in charge. Isn't it great to be a peon? My brother used to always say to me, "Why don't you go into management? I think you should be in management", and I would say not only, "The LAST thing I want to be is someone's manager!", but "Why don't you just get a JOB?". He never seemed to be considering me, personally, when he offered his suggestions for my life. This caused some discord in our relationship, and has perhaps contributed to the fact that we no longer speak. First thing, A. tells me of the cat put in the microwave by two teenage boys a couple weeks ago, and how it survived, this cat, but um, well, it's not exactly ship shape. Nope, not quite on the up and up health wise, but it should be okay. Oh, then I have to tell her about the sick fuck who used to torture kittens in his bathroom, cut off their tails, hang them from his shower curtain rod, etc., and oh yeah, take pictures of all this. Sure, when you're a sick fuck torturing baby animals you must document the event. So, the photo dude calls the police and says, Hey, I think we have a sick fuck on our hands here, and the police take him away, but back then it was not yet a felony to torture small animals in this state. Now it is. I cut out the articles on that guy, I know where he lived, when I drive by that apartment complex I say, That's where the sick fuck kitten torturer lived, yeah, right THERE! Who could ever live there now?! And I saw him, saw his face, in the big huge picture in the paper, the one with the caption that said, This, this here is the sick fuck!!! Blech! So, first thing we're into all this, the inferior superior telling me to basically lay off her so early, leave her stupidity alone until later, and A. and I sharing animal horror stories, Linda saying, No, don't tell me, don't tell me, I don't want to know - because we all know that if one doesn't hear about it, it will all go away. And I clearly have too much energy for this day, for sitting here, again, like every other day. My mind won't even wrap itself around tales of animal torture, or even tales of childhood pets lost to fast moving cars. I won't feel it today, mind moving faster than all that, feeling better than days recently past, caffeine surging through my veins. Morning. Cost of the War in Iraq
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