My Streak of Non Creative Titles continues. It think it's the show 24. It has me hypnotized. Yesterday afternoon I checked out season 3 from the library. They were out of season's one and two. Call it my linear habit, but I'm always' prone to watching a T.V. series from the beginning. I won't even watch a T.V. show if I didn't start it from the beginning. I remember being upset as a kid because I never knew why the A Team called themselves the A Team. I can only assume it was given in the first episode. Because of that fact however, I never watched the A team again.
Today the library feels more like a day care than a public institution. Wednesday's are "story" days. 20-30 kids, aged anywhere from 2-6, sit in a circle and listen to one of the librarians read a story. I must have showed up just as the story had ended because the circle was clapping and the librarian was taking her bows.
In through the doors I turn right and head towards the computer desk. A lady, the same one who helped me find my book yesterday, was working the counter.
"Hi, how are you today?" she asks.
"Good, can't complain I guess." I say. She takes my passport and writes my name down on a piece of paper. I ask her how her day is going.
"Much better." she tells me. She says she gets nervous when she reads to kids. She said she gets stage freight.
"Their just kids." I say
"Exactly." she says. Whatever that means. She tells me to sit at computer number 8.
I sit; open up my blog, and think of a creative title. So here I am. Typing a blog entitled "Wednesday." Most people will blame their lack of creativity on a lot of things. Loss of sleep, sex, lack of drug use, too much drug use. I blame Jack Bauer. I blame Jack Bauer and the Salazar family cartel. Well, more the Salazar Family than Jack. All they had to do was pay for the Virus and get the fuck out of dodge.
...see what I mean.
Today is Wednesday. That means its garbage pickup day. I wanted this day to be symbolic. I wanted to write about my own personal, inner garbage. How I was going to try and get rid of it. You know, leave my baggage at the door, that sort of thing.
Then I rode the bus. I rode the bus and met a women named Cindy. I think she was a woman. Actually I think she was man. Cindy thinks she's a woman. I mean she dresses like a women but looks like a man. Something like that anyway. Cindy is tall, about Six feet two inches. She has the build of a Linebacker. Her hair is long, blonde, and looks like Bo Derek, but her voice sounds like Burgess Merideth. Cindy wants to get off near the Payless Shoes near the Albertson’s grocery. As the bus drives she talks to herself.
"I'm gonna do it. Yup, I'm gonna do it, I swear!" she mumbles.
The bus stops a block from Payless Shoes.
"I need to let you off here hon." The driver says
"But the store is still a block away." Cindy says
"I know, but it's off my route."
"The other driver does it."
"and I would too, if I wasn't running late."
Cindy bolts up from her seat."Well fuck you then!" she says. "You want me to walk, I'll walk, but if I catch a cold, I'm sending the fucking bill to your company."
"Okay, have a nice day." the driver says.
"Go fuck yourself asshole!" Cindy says. She storms off the bus in red high heel shoes.
After an hour of reading my book, I return to the Library desk. The same lady from before is still there. I hand her my passport.
"If you could just go ahead and fill out your address and phone number please." Four columns up, my name address and phone number are still there from before.
"You don't remember me?" I ask
"Of course I do. You were just here." She smiles at me. I stare at her for a moment. I hope the extra time will let the practical set in. After fifteen seconds I decide it would be much faster if just fill in the information. She sends me to computer number 7.
At computer number 7 I open up my facebook. I become a facebook quoting machine! I think everything I comment on is hilarious. My friends from high school make a joke about our old Algebra teacher. I comment. I see a stupid picture of my old boss. I comment. I even make stupid comments of myself. I comment, I comment, I comment. I comment and I think it's hilarious. After my comments, I sit down and type out my blog. Before I do, I read another blog. Something I follow. It's funny, at least I think so. I notice he has over a thousand followers. I have none. I decide to E-mail him asking for advice.
Dear Badass Geek,
Hi Badass. I am a longtime follower, first time writer...or something like that. Love your blog. Anyway, I'm trying to get someone other than my wife (whom I am currently separated from) to be a follower of my blog. I noticed you are doing extremely well in that area. Perhaps you could break me off a little piece of advice. You know, on how to increase my list of followers.
I would love to hear from you, please respond,
Afterwards I check my Inbox every five minutes awaiting his response. So far, he hasn't responded. O well.
Now I sit here, at computer number 7, without anything else to say or do. I check my facebook. No one responds to my comments. I want to go home and finish 24. It's addicting. So, like the stupid title to today's blog, my creativity is lost. I have 24 on the brain and my creativity is lost. So...fuck it. I'll write to you tomorrow.