Our website at work has been down since yesterday morning, which means that I have no work to do. But I’m still AT work. I spent all of yesterday bidding on stuff on ebay (I got a great blue pea coat), writing random stuff, looking at other blogs, and anything to kill the time. Needless to say it went very slowly. I at least have an assignment now, but it’s one that isn’t going to last all day. So as much as I like my new job, it can be extremely boring when I have nothing to do. I’ll try not to complain too much, because I could be stuck behind a counter selling some cheap ass digital camera to some yahoo who thinks he knows everything.
I have a super power. I can instantly tune things out. Talk, I won’t listen. Just try to keep my attention. I bet you can’t. You know how I found out about this amazing ability to be a bad listener? My husband, aka Riz or Buddy, or Ryan Radio, which is his new “band name.” He can talk. He talks more than anyone I know. He talks on the phone probably 8 hours a day. It could be a full time job. Sometimes I want to send him to the phone company to be an operator or something, just so he can get paid for having his face glued to a phone. It makes me laugh sometimes, other times I just want to say, “dude, shut the fuck up.” But his band has a show coming up with a bunch of other bands. He set it up, he’s promoting it, he made pre-sell tickets, and fliers, and blah blah blah. In the 6 or so years we’ve been together, he’s always been in a band, but I’ve never seen him so excited and nervous about a show. And it’s all he talks about. If it’s not about his band, it’s about the other bands. And I completely tune it out. I don’t know how, I don’t even mean to most times. It’s instinctual. It’s like fight or flight, and I’m flying somewhere else. Of course, it’s not just him. I can do it with anyone. I completely missed at least 15 minutes of an hour and a half meeting last week.
With great power comes great responsibility, or so they say in Spiderman. Sometimes my power to tune out makes me miss a lot. “Don’t you remember me telling you to pick me up a newspaper on your way over?” That’s my mom. I get a lot of “don’t you remember I told you…” Whoops.
I have to learn to control my powers.