Scene Selection

Engaging books and movies have a power over me, it is true. I get swept away. When a book/movie is good, I get lost in another world. During these spans of time, everything in my life melts away to make room for the amazing worlds created on the screen or on the page. Yup, I read Harry Potter and imagine I am a student at Hogwarts. I read Pride and Prejudice and picture myself wandering about the grounds of Pemberley. The odd bit is that I only imagine myself as some kind of omnipotent, undetectable observer.

I know, I know, anxious reader. You are probably wondering when the whimsical banter will start in this post. Relax, this is not a serious piece–I was merely setting the stage. *Lifts fingers off keyboard, cracks knuckles* Now, the fun begins.

From the time I wake up to the time I fall asleep, images from my book/movie repertoire blend in and out of my thoughtscape. *Thoughts + Landscape = Thoughtscape* Driving to work, my thoughtscape reflects scenes from the Band of Brothers episode I watched last night. Ordering my coffee, shots from Catch and Release materialize. Sitting at work, my mind replays scenes from Devil Wears Prada and Bridget Jones’s Diary. By the end of the day, I have mentally replayed an unrelated array of movie moments.

Recently, I started thinking about what kind of story the collection of scenes from my daily thoughtscape would create–think Scary Movie/Teen Movie type plot/character blending. Today, I realized how bizarre the scenes mentioned above are when placed side-by-side; an unusual plot to ponder.

Coming soon to a thoughtscape near you: ‘Catch Bridget Jones’s Band of Brothers Wearing Prada’.

In this epic battle between fashion mongers and soldiers, Captain Jones leads her Band of Brothers into battle wearing nothing but a Playboy bunny outfit. As the Band of Brothers fights bravely against Jimmy Chu shoe drops and cerulean colored belt blasts, Captain Jones is shocked to discover that her deceased fiancé secretly fathered a Prada child. In the bitter cold of winter, Captain Jones and her Band of Brothers realize that in order to succeed they need to don the designer apparel that they have been fighting for so long. In this heart-wrenching tale of fashion and war, hope appears in unexpected sizes.

Hamster Tale

It was an ordinary day at the courthouse. Some might say it was even down-right dull. No one could have suspected what would take place on those palatial court steps before the day was out.

Harry knew what he was there for, but he couldn’t help but feel lost. Surrounded by the lawyers and the people, he could feel his fur rising. His eyes were bobbing around mercilessly in his head. His paws were clinched in anguish. The two-legged kind have always made him feel squeamish.

Slowly, Harry made his way up the courthouse steps and towards the wooden doors. As he reached his trembling paw towards the doorhandle, the doors crashed open and out rolled a dirty grey cat wearing cowboy boots. Harry stood rooted in place next to the doors. As he looked down towards the grey cat, he recognized the boots; boots he’d seen in his nightmares a hundred times. It was the defendant.

Squirrelly little Harry did not know what to do. Harry had been told that the defendant would not be able to get within ten yards of him. Yet, here the cat-in-boots is, mere feet from Harry’s furry little body. Harry’s insides began to turn. Everything he had dreaded about was beginning to unfold on the steps of the system that swore to protect Harry.

Harry’s dad had warned him. Harry’s dad knew that hamsters needed to be cautious. But on a sunny May day earlier that year Harry’s dad was not so vigilant.

——

While grazing for crumbs in an alley behind a pizzeria, Harry’s dad came across the grey cat in cowboy boots. Alone, in a place where no one could see, the cat-in-boots knew what he wanted to do with the hamster. Slowly, the cat sauntered up to Harry’s dad who was now frozen stiff from fear. Clickety, clickety, went the cowboy boots. Harry’s dad stood silent, paws clinched, eyes buzzing about uncontrollably. As the cat moved closer, his claws began to protrude from his greedy paws. With one fowl swoop, the cat swept up Harry’s dad and shoved him in his feline snout. Gulp.

——

On the courthouse steps, Harry stared at the grey cat-in-boots and Harry knew that he had to act. The cat was upright again, gazing longingly at little Harry. This situation was different, and Harry knew it. He needed to act fast. As the cat-in-boots sauntered towards Harry, an idea flashed through Harry’s mind. Quickly Harry scurried down the court house stairs with the cat-in-boots in hot pursuit. Out into the street traffic, Harry darted to and fro. Left, then right, between cars, under cars, the game of hamster and cat unfolded.

With one final dart in front of a yellow taxi, Harry scurried back to the court house stairs. Harry heard his tracker screech and meow. The smell of car breaks met Harry’s nostrils as he turned from the stairs to view the scene. Shocked by what he saw, Harry clasped his paws to his mouth…

And So It Begins

Hours of nothing waddle past my cubicle. After a rush of work came a lull of nothing. As if the office was not uncomfortable enough. Co-workers, who scarcely acknowledged my existence before, will not be able to tell the difference between me and the mannequin that I plan to position in my chair. [see above]

I tell you, this stuffy office will like this shiny mannequin. She will never smile. She will not even frown. The only expression she will have is one of blank disconnection — nothing will faze her in either a positive or negative way. With her demeanor, the mannequin will be able to sit indefatigably through countless hours of minimal work and limited-to-nonexistent human interaction. What a perfect replacement for me.

——

Sadly, I just learned that my mannequin is lost in the mail. I have no hope of tracking her down, especially since I live near so many department stores. It was a dream. A dream cut off in its prime. It is sad to say, but I think that I need to come up with another plan. I need to abort operation ‘office mannequin.’ I need a new way to maintain sanity.

And thus—arising epically from the mists of a vast, grey lake of cubicles—enters the blob. Oops, I mean BLOG.

Writing is a passion and I intend to keep it that way. The plan is to keep myself on my toes and keep my toes away from the edge of crippling thoughts about my currently foggy future. While I endeavor to prevent this site from slipping into the realms of deeply depressing personal catharsis, some posts are bound to be less light-hearted than others. Hopefully, the posts will at least be entertaining. But like LeVar always says on PBS’s Reading Rainbow: “You don’t have to take my word for it.” Read on intrepid net-crawler, read on.