silva rerum

the only other sound’s the sweep of easy wind

Interesting con­ver­sa­tion earlier tonight. Epiphany of the even­ing was as fol­lows, as I rather inco­her­ently rambled into my cellphone:

“Oh my god. I am a Buddhist monk. Do you know what the Buddhist monks do? Let me tell you. When the Buddhist monks are done pray­ers and temple for the day,do you know what they do? They clean. They fix. They go into the sur­round­ing vil­lages and they clean that which is dirty and fix that which is broken. They go and make the world a bet­ter place. That is their spare time. They pick up fallen snails and put them back the right way! They pick up snails. And tor­toises, they pick them up and put them right again. Tortoises! And that’s me. Do you know what I do in my spare time? I do work. I look for work to do. I do what need’s doing. I clean! I clean my desk. And I look for things to learn, things that make me bet­ter, more effi­cient, smarter. That is what I do. I am a Buddhist monk! Spontaneity is unac­cept­able. Things have to be planned out. I can’t very well go and just do some­thing. It’s gotta be planned, prefer­ably at least 24 hours in advance. I can’t drop everything, tell every­one, “Oh hi, I’m going out now and I won’t be back until an undeter­mined time. Bye now.” I can’t do that. Spontaneity doesn’t work for me, I can’t do that. I just can’t.”

I’m impressed. I ought to write for Grey’s Anatomy! I could totally write for Meredith, the vera­city of the above state­ment not­with­stand­ing (and, in all like­li­hood, true).