Just like the rest of the world, except for me. The sun comes up and I lay me down to sleep. It's been nearly two weeks since I became a third shift zombie. Truth be told, I kind of love it. I don't miss the people at work that much. I don't miss the tasks of daytime shifts. I don't miss the customers, that's for damn sure. I don't miss the bullshit conversations, I don't miss the ass kissing. Third shift kind of gives a constant sense of urgency and direction. You have limited amount of energy and effort to put out, so you make sure you're every move counts for something. And I was right to assume it was going to be a nightly work out. I am continually thankful that I was training and getting in shape for this, I knew being at the top of my game would be essential. I haven't been as close as I have become with my fellow 3-S zombie since I don't know when. I had been friends with this manager before hand, but all we do is talk to each other, for the whole eight hours. And since you're exhausted you say anything and everything, you tell about your childhood and your hopes and your fears and all the stupid shit your housemates did that day. The song that is stuck in your head. The terrible things that happen in high school. The fun that happened in Florida. The movies you both need to watch. I like being a zombie. The downsides are that I don't run errands...ever. I haven't made it to the grocery store since, like, January. I haven't window shopped, I haven't left the house, except to go to work. I sleep, I eat, I drive. I did spend the most relaxing and wonderful weekend getaway at my friends house this past weekend. She kidnapped and kept me there all three days, it was heavenly. Cooked breakfasts and fun stories. It was precisely what I needed. I loved it. I didn't want to come back. But I wasn't at the house that long before once again resuming my nighttime work excursions. This weekend I have a dinner with my father to look forward to, and I'm sure I'll get around to buying groceries. Maybe. Maybe not. I will listen to Marion Cotillard on the Nine soundtrack another one hundred times though. That is certain. I can sing along to half the songs in the movie, and yet, I still haven't seen it. I had made plans to, but that looks like it won't happen. Solace is fleeting. Anyways. As I face my computer typing this, the morning sun begins to spill through my window. I should really try to sleep, rest. I have my iPod and blindfold ready and waiting, to block out the noise and colors of the daytime. But my brain is full, full of so much. Much to much to want to think about. I suppose I am still young enough to where I could be surprised by human behavior, but I am not. I've been knocked around too much to raise my eyebrows in surprise, now I just raise them as I curse in Italian and make motions with my hands. Oh solace, you magnificent bastard. Arriving and dropping like the sun, but out of reach and too hot to hold onto. Just leaving burns as memories and shadows as reminders. Ok, I'm beginning to emanate Robert Frost, I need to lay down. Try to regroup, recover, revenge.
ps-after having found this picture, I'm totally cool with Marion playing Catwoman. I wasn't really in support of it, but now I deem it acceptable. Let it be done.
"But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep" -R. Frost
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