A Fish 01.25.08

01.25.08

We could have a little Jerry Maguire—here comes the moving analogy—situation on our hands today. Sir X says he’s a ticking time bomb. At any moment he might throw all of his layouts and text up in the air, punch holes in the drywall, knock cubicles over, scream who’s coming with me (to which of course I’ll have to say me) and storm out of the office.
At this point in my budding career I’m not, eh, financially stable enough to storm out of the building hands in the air and fury fleeing my being. Considering the fact that a few car repairs amounting to $800 completely draining my savings I think wise to remain in the doldrums of 9-to-5, reading other peoples articles and checking to make sure there isn’t a hyphen in ‘Type R’.
Two nights ago I had a dream that that a rabies-diseased zombie child was attacking me, biting off my fingers and toes as I fought for my life (think I Am Legend). Over a quick Mexican lunch, I told Sir X about the dream, to which he said, “Maybe you feel like little pieces of your life are being taking away.”
Humm, maybe X is right, do I feel beaten down? Yes. Am I frustrated with the fact that as hard as I try I’ve yet to find a forum/job that will pay my bills, or even publish my work, or even write me back, or pay me once they have published my work? Yes. So do I feel like little bits of my dreams are being ripped right out of my clutched fists? You could say that.
Dreams and feelings aside, however, I’m not quite ready to storm out and create a revolution. So to appease X I explained to him that any over dramatic office revolt requires one key element, one item that has to be in-hand at the moment of revelation and subsequent revolution. That one item you ask… fish. Or better yet a fish, one beta fish that like X needs to be freed from its confines. The fish is X, and X is the fish.
I explained this to X, to which he said, “I’ll get the fish.”