Blogging Up a Storm

I'm really blogging tonight. I don't have some witty idea about anything to write about, nor some comprehensive notion of an essay. All I have is tiredness from a soul crushing job in which I feel like a killer whale swimming amongst herring. My boss looks like a frog and since he's mostly unconscious, doesn't recognize that when he says what's on his mind it's called "sexual harrassment." Sometimes I go over and work in the outpatient clinic. I like it there much better. There are twin obese women there and they look so much alike: hair, weight, clothing choices and skin color, that I can barely tell them apart. The other woman there is a perky lesbian. They are all very nice.

There's something that happens to people that never go out in the sun. They take on the color of the same flourscent lights they're beneath all day. The whites of their eyes blend into their eyelids, and no matter what color eye shadow they put on, it looks green. Their real lives are all outside of what they spend a third of their day doing. Maybe they dote on their children, maybe they dote on ice cream. Maybe the dote on Hugh Laurie.

I had a dream last night about running in a wheel. Mice and rats running forever around in circles, only they thought they were going somewhere. Somewhere in their minds they knew they weren't, but they colored all that into a washed out gray/white, where all the eye shadow looks green and the orbs of their eyes blend in to the pallid color of their skin.