Part 1 of a series: 100 prompts in 100 days or less
Who would possibly want to read
about the space that sits atop the place
where I do my work?
Would it not be more interesting for me to tell you basically any other
story?
For instance why don’t we talk about the time that I climbed up a mountain
in Hawaii to find a secret beach
and back down in the dark (and lost a shoe on the way back).
Or the time I sat for hours by a man-made lake listening to “Sorry I am”
by Ani Difranco
& cried for all my perceived sins
and spent the hour apologizing to no one in particular (except myself.)
If I told you about my desk space,
you’d
know no more
about me than if I had rattle off a receipt itemizing my last grocery purchase
(quart of 1% milk, six cans of Kiltlifter, 8 oz bottle of Mountain Ocean Skin Trip lotion, 1 oz bottle of Amber Paste.)
See, even that would tell you more about the type of person I am--
Likes to drink cold beverages, puts milk in my coffee, fan of local brews and likes smelling good, soft skin and hippie scents.
Or, I suppose I could tell you
that I am sitting outside with earbuds in my ears,
but no music playing, so no one will try to talk to me, while I write this on folded printer paper
I stole from my office.
See, my desk space, filled with stacks of papers denoting topics I care not a stitch for
and the electric stapler that helps me keep things neatly organized and the
tiny black paper clip holder with its magnetic top--
Those things are not a reflection of my humanity,
nor yours.
Let’s talk about what makes you tick.
What things make your heart sing with joy make you want to cry out in sheer
happiness for just the simple fact that you are alive to see
another day?
I don’t want to see what is on your desk space and you don’t want to see mine.
Let’s talk about what makes us real. Let’s talk about our travels or the last time someone
really challenged you
or asked you to look beyond just what you were going to do from
8 a.m. to 5 p.m. every day for the rest of your life.
What’s that you say? I sound bitter? No, not at all.
What about YOU?
copyright 2012 Omy Keyes (all rights reserved)
Who would possibly want to read
about the space that sits atop the place
where I do my work?
Would it not be more interesting for me to tell you basically any other
story?
For instance why don’t we talk about the time that I climbed up a mountain
in Hawaii to find a secret beach
and back down in the dark (and lost a shoe on the way back).
Or the time I sat for hours by a man-made lake listening to “Sorry I am”
by Ani Difranco
& cried for all my perceived sins
and spent the hour apologizing to no one in particular (except myself.)
If I told you about my desk space,
you’d
know no more
about me than if I had rattle off a receipt itemizing my last grocery purchase
(quart of 1% milk, six cans of Kiltlifter, 8 oz bottle of Mountain Ocean Skin Trip lotion, 1 oz bottle of Amber Paste.)
See, even that would tell you more about the type of person I am--
Likes to drink cold beverages, puts milk in my coffee, fan of local brews and likes smelling good, soft skin and hippie scents.
Or, I suppose I could tell you
that I am sitting outside with earbuds in my ears,
but no music playing, so no one will try to talk to me, while I write this on folded printer paper
I stole from my office.
See, my desk space, filled with stacks of papers denoting topics I care not a stitch for
and the electric stapler that helps me keep things neatly organized and the
tiny black paper clip holder with its magnetic top--
Those things are not a reflection of my humanity,
nor yours.
Let’s talk about what makes you tick.
What things make your heart sing with joy make you want to cry out in sheer
happiness for just the simple fact that you are alive to see
another day?
I don’t want to see what is on your desk space and you don’t want to see mine.
Let’s talk about what makes us real. Let’s talk about our travels or the last time someone
really challenged you
or asked you to look beyond just what you were going to do from
8 a.m. to 5 p.m. every day for the rest of your life.
What’s that you say? I sound bitter? No, not at all.
What about YOU?
copyright 2012 Omy Keyes (all rights reserved)
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