And though I had slain a thousand foes less one,
The thousandth knife found my liver;
The thousandth enemy said to me,
'Now you shall die,
Now none shall know.'
And the fool, looking down, believed this,
Not seeing, above his shoulders, the naked stars,
Each one remembering.
--John M. Ford, The Final Reflection

The Asylum Director

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"The only thing I was fit for was to be a writer, and this rested solely on my suspicion that I would never be fit for real work, and that writing didn't require any." - Russel Baker

Friday, January 11, 2008

My Office Is Killing Me

I am fully convinced that my office is trying to kill me. No, not my officemates (who are more likely to be killed by me) but the office itself. The roof is lined with that same stuff they use to soundproof rooms, except that in my office's case, the stuff is slowly crumbling and falling apart. The white powdery stuff that's falling down gets into everything, from the black keyboards that turn white from the stuff over the weekend to my sinuses and respiratory system. I generally get a cold once per every place of employment during my stay, and one more during my last month. This has been a rule that has been constant ever since I graduated college. However, over the course of my stay in Ascend Asia, I've been sick a total of 6 times. That's not including the minor sinus problems I have every so often.

And I'm utterly, completely convinced its that damn white stuff that's falling down from the fucking roof.

The only thing that could make it worse was if there was asbestos somewhere in the office, too.

Chances are, there is asbestos in the office, just that I haven't found it yet.

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