LBJ (cubed)

When I was graduating college in 1995 and looking for a job (and working in a produce department), I knew that somewhere in the world there was some cubic footage with my name in it. Must have been strung out on legumes.

At 8.5’ wide by 8.5’ deep by 5’ tall – my fourth, post-graduation cube is slightly larger than the average prison cell, but without plumbing (or sodomy).  I have been here for 10 years – the longest I have ever in my life been in one consistent space. I was 29 when I entered, now I’m almost 39. Getting older – starting to fart dust.

Besides work, a lot has happened among these drab, gray, slightly sulky walls.  I have been married and divorced, fallen out of my chair and had a thumbtack stuck in my hand.  I have Googled, and been very interested in, topics such as “Bulgarian cabinet making” and “Are vests in style?” and I have lost some hair, but abandoned pleated, cuffed pants – which is a trade-off I was glad to make. I have loved and lost, watched and discussed “LOST,” and was even half blind for a while (the magazines I designed then are a little crooked). While in this cube I received the Sacrament of Confirmation, stopped attending Mass, got over my fear of roller coasters, and learned to make cochinita pibil. Friendships have dwindled and kindled, I have eaten off the floor, discovered I was not a germaphobe after all, done headstands, trusted, been headstrong, foolish, persistent, buzzed, hurt, and happy.

So there is serious mileage in these 361.25 cubic feet. I don’t know what it all means, except that now I am sitting in my cube, smacking my lips on legumes, and supposed to be working. Next Google search: “inane blog posts.”