Tuesday, November 10, 2009

The Thought Police, They're Watching

You might remember, dear readers, that in an earlier post I addressed Mr. Suit-and-Fashion-Mullet-Man, and told him that he didn’t have to worry, no one cared if he was carrying flowers or not.

I should be telling myself something similar, but I don’t.

Some mornings I sit in the dorm room for a couple of hours. I have my electric teapot, and my instacoffee (Maxwell House, not Nescafe! It’s not BNG, but it’s something…), and some books that The Professor loans me, and I get work done. As I’ve said before, I don’t like being in the morning rush hour on the ‘tro.

Every time I hear the construction workers, though, the neurosia starts. I wonder what they think about me; I hear fragments of their conversation “still here in the middle of the day” and think they’re talking about me, only later realizing that they’re talking about a colleague who still hasn’t arrived by the middle of the day. Maybe it would be better, if exponentially more expensive, if I got an apartment.

Such is always my problem with living spaces, though. My mental construct of living/eating/sleeping space separates it from work space (which is something I JUST read about but I can’t remember where. It must have been in Benjamin. Anyway. Insert some Marxist comment about capitalist society here). I think that constructed binary has always strained my relationship with roomates: Mymy thought I didn’t like him; that, among some other things, would explain why those who lived in the Gallows don’t speak to me anymore; and I think even Wer&Wif sometimes misinterpreted why I’d peace out to Prescott Park for hours before going to BNG.

It was never because I disliked hanging out at home. It was specifically because of that – any time I was at home, I felt like I was hanging out. Even when I have concrete evidence – in the form of notes, of a paper, of anything accomplished – I still feel like I’ve been wasting time for no other reason than because I’ve been sitting at home. Welcome to Neurosia land.

Alright, back to work.


Justin said...

Don't worry, we got it.

I mean... we still think you're crazy, but we got it.

Monica said...

You think toooooo much. Just do your work and come home!!! We all miss you :(