Occasional Thought

Sometimes it is a scary thing to have an overactive imagination.

I was walking to my cube at the job site where I work, a seemingly droll event. Better than average because it's a spring day in California, but I digress. Slight breeze, sunny, 70, and just amazing to be outside. The breeze was kicking up some leaves from who knows where.

I saw some litter in the leaf piles and I started to get mad. Wonder if it would make any difference if one were to take all the litter and pile it on the lawn in front of your friendly state capitol building. It wouldn't, of course, but it would have a wonderfully dramatic effect.

Then I focused on the leaves. I began to think of two things at the same time; one where the office building had outdoor windows with screens and open-air conditioning, letting the breeze blow through the offices and cool people down. I know, how hippy of me. The second thought was of what the place would look like without all of the human development. Would it be grassy, or what passes in California as grassy, or would it be more forested?

I began to miss the cooler forest, even though the day outside was superb. The idea of walking on effectively mulched-by-nature leaves while just living life in the shade was so very appealing at that precise moment. It wasn't a resentment of development, more a romantic nostalgia of nature.

When the door closed behind me, I was back in the middle of the cube farm, with off-white walls and cubes with gray diagonal cross-hatch threading. Sun lights that hint that nature exists coupled with a seeming endless row of flourescent tubes, the "simulated daylight" versions that alledgely improve morale.

They say taupe is very soothing.

And then I sat back and reflected on the thoughts that I had while walking a total of 53 feet and wondered if my imagination was really going to waste like everyone tells me. If it is, it's a sad and scary thought to me.