Am I Crazy Or Falling In Love

I've just finished transcribing an interview. I want to go home now. I was a cool interview and I found myself smiling incessantly. So Joyce, who's sitting across from me thinks I have yet another crush (she thought I was crushing on her contact she introduced me to...I liked him...he was charming...but considering crush? I don't think so).

I put pictures of my friends and my dog around me. Also two poems. And it was a very very good idea. Sometimes when I'm smiling it's because of what the interviewee was talking about. Sometimes, it's because Mark is standing there with his guitar and smiling at me in that blurred reproduction taken with my phone. Or because Mary and Prabs and struggling with their umbrellas pulling in different directions, laughing. Or because Arnold has perched his forelegs on my bed and is looking at me intently. Or because I have my arms around Nits and we're both smiling in close-up. Or because Jackie is laughing with the setting sun in Cagnes sur Mer in the background. Or because I'm in my Santa hat with my arms around Yong and Addy on either side.

And sometimes I read Lao Tzu:

In the pursuit of knowledge,
everyday something is added.
In the practice of the Way,
everyday something is dropped.
Less and less do you need to force things,
until finally you arrive at non-action.
When nothing is done,
nothing is left undone.

And I breathe and take it in. Something to remind myself of from time to time. And there is my Edge Financial Daily mug stained with lipstick. Sort of dark red. Can't remember what I used today. And there is some red fabric draped around one side of my cubicle, courtesy of Anna, whose desk I am up against.

And there is my crushed napkin with the scribbled words - I was going to throw it away - but my colleague Zaquan, who dropped in on my sandwich and book for lunch and told me his favourite author of all time is David Foster Wallace...told me to save it. He said..hang it up, as is.

Zaquan's an artist. In fact, they seem to be crawling out of the woodwork here. They look so corporate and professional on the surface. And underneath...oh Sigmund, underneath.

Decorating my desk was a declaration of sorts. After keeping my head down and just doing my work for the three weeks I've been here.

I raise my head. I sniff a little.

Now I can go home now. I can email my transcription to myself and work on it at home.

Or else I can go music shopping. I recently discovered a local artist I want to hear more of.

If it's the mind that causes suffering, then if you learn to control your mind, you alleviate said suffering. So when I'm stuck in a funk unable to figure out how I'm going to get a story, I take a deep breath, say a prayer and relax. Doodle on my notepad. Write crazy Facebook updates. Comment on my own updates. Chat. Listen to Rainbow Connection. Crush (that seems to be a theme in my life right now). And send out good thoughts. Good vibes. Uncomplicated by the static of hopelessness and helplessness and sheer panic.

At least I hope I do.

Later for you.