Yes, it’s that special time of year again. While I’m sure that the amateurs are finding new and inventive ways to spend all their money, get into fights, get laid and black out, I am finding myself on a different path. It’s hard for me to believe that it’s already been a year since I was wearing those obnoxious green pants and handing out disposable cameras. A lot has changed in a year.
Work today was another milder variation of the manifesting routine. With the exception of the anticipated press checks, things seemed to be getting back to a more normal pace around the production department.
Kay’s funny. Today, after her comment about going back into her “bubble,” I’ve decided to start referring to her as “Bubble Girl.” The name suits her. (No, it’s not an insult.) While working, Kay is prone to bouts of concentration that transcend the normal detachment from the physical world. Of course, that doesn’t stop her from communicating with the rest of the mortals in the room, a complication that often produces odd and amusing social side effects,
One day, deep in our work, listening to horrifying dissertations of the war on National Public Radio, Bubble Girl interjected a profound statement: “Thank God for history,” she remarked, rather emphatically. It took a little while for me to muster the courage to ask what the hell she was talking about
