Current Conditions

I'm in editbay 8 on the 9th floor of the Unical building in downtown los angeles. The climate is temperate. Hum of air-conditioner present. Barefoot and eyeing an unknown entitity's glass of water. Consider drinking it regardless. Time I have left trapped in here: at least 2 hours. What i'm doing: copying files. I am truth be told, a glorified file clerk, though just yesterday andraSay UllockBay and I and her two dogs and her very large sunglasses shared the elevator. It was for all round a transcendent moment up 3 flights.

I transfer information from server to drive to editor... the frustrating part, to ponder, as i sit here in dimly lit quarters is that - i can put it this way- someone is banging on the door. they are very busy banging on the door. i come up behind them and say, "oh here, this is the key you asked for." they say, "leave it there," and they continue to bang on the door. this is the most frustrating part of the job- no amount of verbal or written confirmation satisfies them: are the files on the drive? did you put them on the drive? where are the files? do we have them? are they there? when are they going to get there?

the words: they are there. do not satisfy them. and that is when i want to start weilding maybe a tazer gun or possibly find some way to give them shock collars. it is all in all a pointless exercise, maybe one i shouldn't take so personally but then again- that boy that cried wolf got eaten in the end didn't he? so maybe i'm the fed up townspeople? i can't be sure.

all i know is that it's friday. thank god. and i better find some way to find me outside of this dark room in the span of 2 days... or i'll just be here again, in a matter of no time, asking the same thing. why does it matter? what am i doing? paying for 'the edge'... for school... for ? something outside of right this minute.