Drifting, between slumber and wake, conscious and semi-conscious, I tether. Drifting between thoughts of hunger and my desire to sleep. Do I remain nestled in the warmth of my bed or drag my ass off - I try feebly to resist rolling off and drift back off to sleep but I dream in fair values, and adjustments, complex groups and consolidation. Reluctantly, I yank my self from my respite, pull on my boxers and return yet again to my refuge where I attempt to quiet my mind - back to white letters on black keys speaking softly to me providing me with words of encouragement and solace. Once again the click clacking of the keys prove functional, three more days and it will be over, three more days and my thoughts will be screaming and preoccupied with anything but thoughts of Corporate Reporting.
I have of late taken the view that no matter how rebellious, unconventional, non-conformist we would like to think ourselves, we are at some point always part of a similar grouping of people. We are never truly leaders, but followers. Followers, I prefer to refer to us as sheep; because at one point or another in our life we are all sheep. This is a place to express myself, vent my frustration with the sheepdom, and relieve my boredom. It is my therapy for all that contributes to my neurosis.
Saturday, June 12, 2010
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