The Rugged Individualism of Experience

It really is raining like you would not believe. I know you think: “Of course I would believe it,” but you really would not.

The building I work in has a big tall sweepingly majestic central glass atrium with a glass roof. The glass is really getting whacked pretty good by the rain. I wish I could take pictures, but this is a top-secret government-funded military secrets building with video cameras and infrared sensors everywhere, so taking pictures is quite out of the question. I’m surprised each morning when they let me in.

Never mind. I feel so blechy today. My clothes don’t fit right. My skin doesn’t fit right. There’s something itchy slightly above and behind my eyes. I thought it might be pizza hangover, but I work in a windowless, climate-controlled environment. Maybe it was weather-related the whole time and I never knew it.

I have crumbs on my shirt from eating lunch alone in the rainy tall glass atrium.

I miss every single person I’ve ever met. During the course of each week I speak to about one (1) person.

Oooh, I just found some breadsticks in my bag.

How long did it take to build this building, I wonder. It’s really pretty amazing inside. I would like to share the experience with someone, talk about it with them.