Like I Really Need A Reason Anymore

My major accomplishment of the day was making mailing labels for my graduate school applications. Yes, anything to avoid working on my actual application and writing sample. I’ve been considering alternative formats for some of the supplementary materials I need to send: the Why You Should Admit Me Haiku, or perhaps, a Personal Statement Sestina? Really, asking writers to write about why they want to be writers (in 500 words or less) seems, oh I don’t know, defeatist.

I’m desperately avoiding the “I write to discovery the poetry of my soul” bullshit. Heck, I write because I have a memory that is less like a steel trap and more like a copper sieve and I want to hold grudges. I want to stay pissed off at the people who hurt me, I want to remember exactly what so-and-so said to make me lose my temper. Sure, I want to remember the good stuff too, the compliments and the pet names and the sweet nothings, but those nuggets of happiness are denser, stronger, and they don’t slip as easily away through the slots of the sieve. It’s the anger that I lose so quickly, that hot-headedness that boils and dissipates in a matter of seconds.

(Side note: Loud Guy is on the phone lauding Al Gore to one of his Dude Bros. He just said, “Hey, he invented The Internet and he’s going to save the environment” AND I DON’T THINK HE’S BEING SARCASTIC. Removing shoe...)

You know what Fridays at the office need? 3PM Cocktail hour. One of the other assistants just came over to my cubicle and said, “Come have some wine with us!” Gee, ask me twice! Her boss, the chairman of Nice Hedge Fund (and eldest son of Mr. Nice Hedge Fund) was choosing wines for the upcoming Holiday Party and she was instructed to share the leftovers. A glass of pinot and a glass of champagne later, I’m pretty ready for the weekend. I would gladly allocate my fifteen dollars of lunch money toward the greater good of getting drunk every Friday.

But if that won’t fly with HR, at least I can say my TGIF’s that my bosses clear out by 4PM for the weekend, and I can follow suit. I’ve got a whole weekend of Marathon fun ahead of me (watching, not running) and that, my friends, is something to drink to.