The gourd works in mysterious ways
Yesterday I was migraine-ing my way through this glitch in a major project I have to do this month at work. Then Gay Guy #2, who was supposed to interview for the room, canceled on me. And although I was too tired and distressed to go to the gym after work, I got up off my duff after “Judge Judy” and made myself go. Then when I went to catch the bus on my way back home, I saw a text from Gideon on my phone. Inviting me for drinks on Friday. Hope springs eternal.
I’ve taken to eating out of Tupperware. Not the big, massive containers, but the tapas-sized ones. I like things that can contain your food (unlikes plates that slide it all around) and control your portions. Mock me if you will. Deride if you must. But I feel neat and clean when I eat.
I’ve become mildly obsessed with the Ms. Pac Man game on my cell phone. And I’ve gotten good at it. I am reminded of a time back in 1986 when some friends of the family got the original Pac Man game on the Atari. We went over to their house, and I played it until my thumb was blistered.
Now when I play it, I get so insanely into it, that I start to question the motives of the ghosts. Why are they attacking me? What is their motivation? How is it fair to expect that one slow moving yellow mouth with a mole and a pink ribbon can outrun a gang of four? And then I think about Ms. Pac Man. It’s like she’s a prisoner in this fucked up world where she just has to keep eating to stay alive. But with each stage I pass, another piece of her life is revealed: she meets Pac Man, they court each other, they have a baby. It’s a mystery unfolding at every turn.
Truly, I need to be on medication.
