Freeze-dried thought forms—They have no place in the workplace.
I beg to digress with Gandalf for now because I do wander and I am very much lost. I don’t know anymore if I’m going somewhere or I’m coming back from nowhere.
It’s still as if I do not belong here at all. That try as I might to blend into the woodwork, I still stick out like an unsanded wood panel.
Somebody abduct me!!!!
Take me away.
The silence, very unusual for the morning shift, is starting to unnerve me. Many of my coworkers today are in a catatonic state. I see some walking in the hallway like zombies, taking slow shuffling steps towards the water fountain, eyes still glazed and unfocused. They are victims of the near-fortnight festivities’ culmination of the Buglasan festival honoring our province’s “rich” cultural and provincial diversity and heritage.
Most of my office mates, I’m willing to bet, have woken up late and reported to work despite their impending hang-overs and agonizing stiff necks (from staring up for over an hour at the fireworks display last night). Others have chosen to be absent this Monday, good for them. Conversations are done with moans and groans of the agonized. Complaints varied from headaches, stomach aches and muscle aches courtesy of the all-night dancing, eating and drinking. Bingefest that if this celebration had been in ancient Greece, would be equated with the celebration held in honor of the wine God, Bacchus. The Bacchanalia and the orgies.
There’s a part of me that regrets because I was not part of the celebrations [I slept through the entire thing.]
Yet someone has to live to tell the tale.