Very much just another blog

The Mirror of Truth

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Last night, after a few drinks with some much loved work colleagues, I tripped home to bed for an early night. I couldn’t sleep, of course, because I can never sleep before midnight, and instead let my mind wander first to the fridge, which I cleared in approximately seven minutes, via my face. And then to nights gone by.

My evening had been relatively low key; civilised and relaxed. It wasn’t, and isn’t, always like that. When I was student I used to roll home and then sit in any given part of the house, head hanging over a half eaten burger, a piece of cucumber stuck to my chin, while my housemates and I discussed something so horrifically self-involved that I have protected myself by clearing it from my memory. Actually, thinking about it, I properly hated university, but that’s another much longer story for a different time.

Then there were the festival days – not attending; I worked for an arts festival. And actually I can’t remember those nights so well because of tequila and weed. But I’m sure they were very happy days, counting wading birds on beaches and chasing lizards in forests. That’s how we rolled back then.

There are, after that, the crazed loud nights that pass in a white blur and which were more frequent when I left the Writer, but have calmed away now.

Last night was none of these but I stayed awake flicking through these memories until the small hours. I’ve been working really hard lately, long days and restless nights. This morning even negotiating my make up was a challenge: eye shadow shouldn’t go there; I put it there anyway. I started again: put Touche Eclat ALL OVER MY FACE. Wandered in the snow to the train, rolled on, leant (just lightly) on a fellow passenger. And then to the office. And, of course, the Mirror of Truth.

The Mirror of Truth sits in the lift at work and, no matter how human you were *sure* you looked when you left the house, the Mirror can see through it. It knows you didn’t sleep last night, it can see that you’re unusually puffy, a strange shade of green and, by the way, you didn’t actually manage to remove all the eyeshadow, sweetheart. Fucking mirror. And don’t sweetheart me. I’m talking to a mirror. This is bad.

I emerged from the lift slightly crumpled and dejected. All I needed to do was get to my desk, drink seventeen cups of tea and adopt a cheery tone. And so this is where you’ll find me, or is now after a small miscalculation regarding the *exact* location of my desk. It must be someone’s turn to make the tea…


Written by elikafm

December 18, 2009 at 3:52 pm

Posted in Uncategorized

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