i know why a caged bird sings – writing 101, day eight

it really isn’t fair to compare myself to angelou’s caged bird. not even a little bit. but she’s died recently and i’ve been reading a few of her works and it feels appropriate to this cube-confined day. most people are in meetings now. in an open office like the one i sit in, a worker bee becomes keenly aware of the presence of others. and when the rest of the hive is otherwise occupied, it does not go unnoticed.

here i sit with one gold flat tucked underneath my right buttock, propped akilter and most certainly undoing the work i did during forty five minutes of yoga this morning. spinal alignment is for yuppies, anyway. off to my right, tickling my porifreal vision is a dying bouquet of flowers my best friend sent me for my twenty fourth birthday last week. it was a surprise and they are lovely. i hate that they are dying [see my last post for thoughts on dying flowers] but just to left of them, or more right than they, sits a digital picture frame. i didn’t turn it on today, or yesterday for that matter. when blank, no brightly lit photos of best friends and boyfriends flashing by, it becomes something of a mirror. if i lean left i can see myself mostly but if i just turn my eyes, i can see people approaching from behind. or a ceiling fan. depends on how tall the approacher is. right now it’s just the ceiling fan. like said, everyone is in meetings now.

to my left are boring things. pens and pencils in a squat white mug that was here long before me and i found too charming to remove. there’s also two empty water glasses forgotten over there. there’s three more if i turn my head to the right though we’re talking left now. but clearly i should clean my desk this week. [pause to take a note of that on coffee-stained to do list stage right of my macbook]. i spilt coffee all over my desk last friday. soaked my keyboard [now no longer working, it’s hiding behind my giant monitor until further notice, it’s skinny edge and white chord peeking out at me], my melafonino [italian for iphone – cleverly combining mela for apple and telefonino for cellphone] and my pants. by the way, i actually switched from iphone to galaxy a few months ago but i just love that word. other italian words i love – a la sinestra – to the left. the sinister side, but again i digress. clearly my mind is not here.

my mind, poor thing, is just outside the large glass doors one cube and twenty feet in front of me. i can see through the top of them to trees and sky and birds if i crane my neck up and and cast my eyes over my monstrous monitor. truly monstrous. out there my mind is strolling down the sidewalk and thinking about the possibilities for the day, not much left as it’s approaching near four o’clock. but there is still enough time for adventure and trouble. perhaps a cocktail on the low wooden porch of the bar just down the street. it’s lovely out. or maybe a baseball game tonight. the dash is playing, after all. but really, my mind knows it will be called back to corporeal form and will accompany this body home for dinner, a short workout and enough tv to fill the hours before bedtime.

all to wake up and do it again.

love always, sarah

today’s assignment

also, is “keenly” an adverb? if so, i don’t apologize. i like that one.

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3 thoughts on “i know why a caged bird sings – writing 101, day eight

  1. Pingback: Day Eight, Yes I’m Late | Be Inspired

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