A former colleague of mine once noted that the only reason I kept a certain book in plain view on my desk was to impress the girls, and as was befitting such an offensive slight against my impeccable character I quickly but firmly denied it even though it was nearly completely true. I say nearly completely because 10% of the reason it was still on my desk was that it had a lovely little note written inside that I could access every time my self-esteem dipped below the level at which I was no longer able to function as a contributing member of society. Obviously, this was well before the age of uploading self-portraits to flickr, marking them private, adjusting the contrast levels appropriately in photoshop and opening up the really hot ones for public comment. Ain't no sumptuary laws on the world wide web.
I came across this book today while searching for moths in the garage, and thought briefly about restoring it to its rightful place, atop my desk, right next to the chair that visitors use when they want to discuss how I can help them do their jobs better or what Cindy from Accounting said that Marge from Facilities said about JoAnn from Economic Development. But that prime piece of real estate is now occupied by an overexposed picture printed on the wrong side of budget photo printer paper, housed in a cheap frame probably picked up accidentally while searching for clearance rack bath towels. Replacing family photographs with anything other than more family photographs in a loose-lipped workplace is no remedy for ringing ears.
It has been _41_ days since I last apologized without meaning it.
10 comments:
I've heard that the key element in keeping oneself from apologizing without meaning it is to never apologize at all.
Two birds.
One stone.
No apologies.
chicks dig books?
here? in the States?
get outta here.
is the book
(a) Everyone Poops;
(b) a Bible; or
(c) Norton's Anthology to English Literature.
The only book on my desk is Dick Settle's Guide to the State Environmental Policy Act. I've only opened it once, but the boys think I'm smart for a girl
Will you remember us when you're a finalist on Dancing With The Stars?
sir, never apologizing seems like a sorry way to live your life. i mean, does not sound like a sorry way to, nevermind.
swine, if you want to attract the ladies, simply dress as a book at your next halloween party. you will be covered.
leezer, the book is Pedagogy of the Oppressed. i would try the bible, but making my office look like a hotel room is a little too transparent for my taste.
So any apologies more than 41 days old can be presumed to be disingenuous? OH MAN, I wish I could have used this as the rule of law in a recent settlement conference... things would have been SO much easier.
I do the same with old love letters. And saucy e-mails. Love reading those over and over.
I do the subconscious presenting of persona through reading material. With certain company over I scoot the contents of the reading basket around so "Vanity Fair" covers "People Magazine" and "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance" begets “Candy Girl : A Year in the Life of an Unlikely Stripper.”
You used a proportional font to further illustrate your sumptuarilessness, didn't you? Of course it's a real word shut up.
Ze font, eet looks tres belle in the Safari.
I've been getting rid of a lot of such mementos lately. It feels good, lighter; almost like I can feel my whole being opening up to the future instead of the past. Finally.
Also, I don't think I need objects so much anymore to remind me (or others) of who I am.
shari, next time you should call me as an expert witness!
Jodie, when i am being condescending i will whip out the Highlights and maybe CosmoGirl!
peefer, sadly i cannot take credit for any font association. these days i am simply trying to make sure my site is readable.
miss syl, i am happy that it is showing up safari style! now if i can only remember what i did...
Highlights.
I heart you a little. Freakin' loved that mag and STILL read it at the docs. Faves were "Goofus and Gallant" and finding the toaster in the tree.
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