It's not easy being green, I tell ya.

Last night there was a very clear, very lucid dream, probably prompted by the slideshow with all of the old pictures from the origins of the company. Including the pictures of the house and the description that the manager used in his story of the day his picture was taken of the back door that lead out to a little landing and stairwell at the back of the building. It was dark and cloudy outside, everyone I was talking to was on a smoke break. This is my life.

All the employees I interacted with were male, one guy someone I flirt with all the time, the other a manager, the third, the head of that company and we had a small talk, he said he just did the same things over and over again, but in different order, sometimes it got boring, but usually he was busy so it was okay. It was like a sweet little moment as we walked together through the building, what appeared now to be a gym. I had my bag and offered him to join me for a workout, but he had other stuff to do and appreciated the offer even though he wanted to start working out again since he had gained some weight over the years. This dream was so non-descript, so blah that I was only compelled to write about it now because I figure the more non-descript and blah my dreams are, the more meaning is tied to them. So my subconscious has shifted, and please pardon the pun, dramatically – from vagina armpits in crazy dilapidated theatres to a house office with a bunch of male co-workers.

Sometimes I think something terrible happened to me when I was younger and that the memories of it are all being hidden by all the characters in my mind. The funny voices and the silly jokes and the witty comebacks – they have comeback. I feel the fragmentation more now or maybe it’s just because I haven’t been as diligent with my editing. Maybe since I haven’t been going to yoga I have not felt compelled to lock it down. Or maybe the benefits of yoga slowly unravel when you do not practice as they slowly ravel when you do. Or maybe my Mom just died.

I wonder if people just forget I’m here or if they don’t care and just ignore me. I wonder which one would make me feel worse. I wonder why…I try not to listen, but their boring loudness begs for attention. I try to type and to send a mental shut the fuck up, but sometimes that works and sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes I’m interrupted by people coming down the stairs making fun of me tilting my head and writing without really thinking that this is MY FUCKING OFFICE and I just look like that when I do that thing. I wonder what would happen if I went into their office and watched them while they tried to figure something out or write an email to a colleague or talk to their bank about a charge. It’s not easy being green, I tell ya.

I’m constantly being ordered to smile and cheer up even if I’m in a bad mood or concentrating. It’s fun to pretend to ignore them. It’s fun to pretend lots of stuff now that I don’t feel compelled to engage or be all cute and sweet. "That’s kind of a lie" she said, chuckling to herself and publishing the post.