Day of no inspiration, tragic art, and little blue flags

No inspiration. Generally, I struggle (though quietly and with as little energy expended as possible, viz. efficiently) to be laid back at work. You know, smiling knowlingly and comfortingly at my associate colleagues when something has them irritated, sipping coffee in the morning and green tea in the afternoon, committing myself to some dark chocolate after a light lunch, occasionally saying a little prayer on the rosary or gazing up at my little prayer flags (an unsolicited gift from the "Save Tibet" campaign), especially the blue one (that's Robert Thurman's fault), listening to country music or my French earworm, and occasionally doing hip openers on the floor under my desk. But over the last few days, it has been very difficult to keep being so relaxed. The culprit? Work has slowed down for the practice group. It is in this no-work environment that the type A personality becomes indomitable. Because when there is nothing to do, well, it's impossible to relax. All the lounging around is extremely stressful, and the only antidote is extraordinary lethargy. It's as though the only option is to find something to do, such as chewing your nails to the quick, jabbering at a colleague until you lose focus and say something regrettable, or just giving up on living all together and entering a sort of stupor. The risks of the former are too dire. Consequently, I'm having trouble getting out of my chair.

Not all associates are like this. Some are absolutely crazy.

Birth of Tragedy. So, it's been said that lethargy can come from too much knowing, that once you see the world for what it is, your will to act is done for. You're glued. Resistance is futile. You understand why Ophelia jumped, but like Hamlet, you found out too much before you had the chance to act. The result? Silly ranting, in rhyme if you're lucky. One remedy that has been suggested is art. In other words, someone else telling you that they've been bored too, or have at least noticed how absurd it all is.

Maybe I should google up some art.

Traveling by bus. Amy, my wife, best friend, favorite person, and "mother" of my dog (all the same person), is truly living some art this weekend. She's headed to Farmville, VA with some Congressfolks and other notables. By bus, but with a four policecar escort who block the interstate everytime the bus enters or exits. While riding in the royal coach she's chatting it up with international religious figures and some of our elected officials. She's pierced the celebrity veil, gotten close enough to engage these folks as regular people. An exceptional experience, and I hope none of them let her down.

Today's rule: to figure out how to leave work before 6 without feeling like I'm sneaking out.