It’s hard to concentrate with all the cackling

They’ve shoveled me into my new desk on the third floor; my boss and those whom I work with

are on the second floor. My desk is cluttered, and I want to just sweep everything off it as if in a fit of passion. A fit of organized, anal-retentive passion. But most of all, I want to tear this keyboard standoff and throw it on the floor. Not only just because it’s a bitch and driving me crazy, but also to cause a scene. Perhaps then the women in the cubes behind me wouldn’t be laughing so uproariously, and with an almost aimed vigor. Of course, they’re not actually aiming their jeers and comments about other women in the office’s large posteriors at me but at each other. Their comments aren’t conversations to be shared or dialogues regarding a project they have been working on but jabs and attempted maiming words in the form of barks and blurted out monologues. Like the Sondre Lerche album, “Two Way Monologue,” but far more dispassionate and with a degree of teeth you don’t usually see in an office.

I think I’ve just rambled for a while there…hmm. Maybe I should be looking over these journals

and various materials for tomorrow’s meeting.