February 9th

golf-ballThe tension headache is starting to ease this morning. It now only feels like I have a golf ball lodged between my skull and my brain. I got over ninety minutes of sleep last night, which is an improvement. I still have no idea what is causing the headache. Perhaps it was the coffee. I didn’t think it was that strong.

I noticed that while I was drinking that coffee, I hadn’t once performed a stock check on my office supplies. Notably, my paperclip stock pile is dangerously low. I only have 27 paperclips remaining of the non-stippled design and four of the stippled design. I shall issue a requisition form for more. As discussed earlier, the stippled design holds the pages better, but they also snap easily. I don’t wish to be injured by potentially dangerous paperclip shrapnel.

I had two dreams last night. In one I was drinking a tepid glass of water. That was the whole dream. In the other dream I had no arms or legs and I was forced to bathe by rubbing myself against a sponge glued to the inside of the shower. My dream-shower took a long time and made me late for work. Not real work – dream-work. The dream stopped before I left my house so I don’t know how I was able to function at my job under those circumstances, let alone drink coffee.

Dorothy stopped by the office today. She stood by the door, smiled and waved at me. She had a bow in her hair. I waved back, tried to smile and stopped when she gave me a concerned look. I said nothing. I didn’t know what to say. I felt a burning feeling in my chest and my mind sort of shut down. She said quickly “Okay, well, I’ll come back another time,” and walked away.

My headache returned immediately, maintaining at a golf ball sized pain, which is good.

January 18th

nasa-hs201427a-hubbleultradeepfield2014-20140603I used the last of Bob’s special coffee today.

It had a particularly strong taste – a taste I have come to strangely enjoy – and a strong odor. The odor was strong enough that Dave from Invoicing stopped by and said ‘Ello mon, someone in ‘ere smokin’ da ganga, mon?’ and laughed and walked on. I don’t know what he meant but I think it was racist. I would normally report it… but I don’t really care.

Even writing that seems strange.

Today, between replacing the ‘on’ button that had been stolen from a printer, and constructing a small fort out of old disused monitors in the company server room, I contemplated that a satisfactory existence probably depends on a degree of humility. The acceptance of a balance between recognizing that whilst we are a tiny pebble hurtling through the void of space, we’re also the manifestation of nature realizing itself, a contemplative species, and that as pointless as life can seem to be, we also generate our own sense of purpose and reason, which is pretty amazing. We do the best we can with the brains we have, those battlegrounds of passion and rational thought, and although we cause pain and suffering to one another, we also always draw towards community, family and beautiful altruistic attitudes. We’re alone, and we’re lonely, and only we as humans can judge our own actions, despite the potential existence of mute gods – ultimately we applaud and condemn ourselves, and we provide our own oversight. Like a children without parents, we guide ourselves, and must make many mistakes before we mature.

I also realized that my fingernails are hilarious.Then I felt a bit sick.

I saw Dorothy in the corridor. She smiled at me. I smiled back. I felt a burning feeling in my chest. It felt good.