Let’s play a game.
The inner monologue begins at the start of the day, something to end the
endless tasks ahead. So let’s play a
game. Data entry is no longer just data,
no, it’s now a secret code to a safe that contains a bomb. If I get it wrong, the bomb explodes, if I
get it right, then I move onto the next secret code. I listen, watch the numbers, convincing
myself that they could change at any time.
I actually get the slightest big nervous as my fingers stroke the wrong
key. “Shoot! Game over!”
Oh wait, I’m not actually part of a bomb squad… okay, backspace, enter
the number “4” correctly this time.
Entering names and updating lists is really just me doing my
job – my job of updating the most wanted list.
And oh! There goes the guy on the
street down below my office window.
Quick, someone run and grab him, tackle him! He’s the most wanted… erm… CEO of a major
corporation who has done nothing wrong.
Right, never mind, I’m not some cop searching for the predators of our
streets.
When I enter our galley kitchenette, I’m really going into a
giant pantry, with millions of possibilities of things to cook. I’m a gourmet chef, serving something amazing
from our miraculous, deep cabinetry. I
open one cabinet, open another, open another, step back and wonder – what can I
make today? What delicious meal can I
serve myself? I close all the cabinets
because they are full of bitter, high fiber, low calorie food and snag some pretzels
out of the giant, plastic bin. Munch,
munch, yes, this is my gourmet lunch.
When I take my plant to water it, I’m really in a lush
garden with green vines growing so high up the sides of the fence that you
cannot even see any connection to the outside world. This fern is a gateway to a land of
butterflies, squirrels, and endless rows of flowers and fresh vegetables. I dig my fingers into the dirt, get the warm
earth underneath my fingernails and play with the grains on my skin.
Let’s play a game – where imagination can take you
everywhere you want to be and no where that you are. The sun is setting somewhere, over a
lakefront, with someone lazing in a boat, a line dipping into the water with no
intention on catching any fish. This is
me, it’s my boat, and my lake, and my house is a short paddle away. I bask in the last of the sunlight for the
day and breathe the fresh air deeply into my lungs. This is my life.
The clock ticks lazily over to 4:45pm and I gather my things
out of the receptionist area, walk out the front door, jump onto my scooter and
rocket myself in between cars – getting home as fast as I can. Right now, I’m a motocross driver, and I’m
winning the race.
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