The gorilla post

I could just refer you to this post, or this one, or this one ... but what the hell, let's see how many variations on a theme I can cook up here. I may have to rename the blog "Why not just take a moment while surfing the web to check out whether jilbur is feeling clinically depressed right now." But it would be hard to fit all of that on a banner.

Here's how it happened:

In the course of an otherwise unremarkable day, about mid-morning I go on break with Jo, and over the usual hot bev and carb session we're talking about some light things, some heavy. For no reason that I can pinpoint, something about 2 inches below the diaphragm starts tightening on the way back from the break ... slight paranoia--was I getting on Jo's nerves? Am I a dork? On the way back to the airless, fluorescent, dank dungeon that is our work-home, I glance in the mirror at a work sink, and much to my surprise I saw this:

So naturally I emailed Jo as soon as I got back to my desk.
"What's the deal with the gorilla head?"
"Oh, that? Don't make such a big deal about it. I barely noticed it. You're cool."
"Was I being especially annoying at break?"
"No, not at all, sweetie. What's wrong?"
"I dunno ... I think this gorilla head thing is freaking me out."
"Well, if there's anything I can do ..."
"Naw, don't worry about it." But the weird gut doesn't go away.

Well, I continued with my work day, and overall I wasn't doing too badly. I don't talk about my job much--In fact, most bloggers don't talk about their work much. Maybe because most people's work is staggeringly, brain-meltingly boring. I doubt that mine is any exception. Do you know what librarians do? This one spends most of each day describing items that are generally in an advanced state of decay (flakey, moldy, dissolving into dust upon being gently touched--sound like anyone you know?), in an excruciatingly specific and detailed way. One benefit of this job, though, is that I get to sneeze a lot. The extensive metal shelving beside my workstation reverberates with the sound of my sneezing, so I have an opportunity to engage in a sort of sneezy exhibitionism.

Soon it was time for lunch--and as it happens, this is my last work-lunch with Jo while we share the same workplace, because she's transferring far, far away down the street from me, and the level of neurosis in this office environment is such that she will be missed to my marrow. So we celebrate with lunch in a fancy al fresco kind of place where we each drink a very large glass of excellent white wine.

So we're heading back to work, mighty late and feelin' fine, and as we're strolling past the storefronts of the Charming Shoppes of the Sweet Elite Olde Towne in which we work, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in one of the storefronts. Aieeeee!

"Do you see that?"I squeak to Jo. Her level gaze encompasses compassion and unconditional love. "Ah, man, you'll be fine. No worries. What do you expect, with all the chaos going down? Don't beat yourself up over it. You know we all love you just the way you are." "But it's a gorilla!" "Gorilla schmorilla."

Well, we get back to work, and the rest of the day continues as the previous hours had. Still had the cold lump of oatmeal in the gut, but functioning. Nothing else extraordinary happens. No one seems to be at all put out by my transformation.

That night, after avoiding mirrors for hours, I take a peek in my bathroom mirror.

*sigh* Hey there. Make yourself at home. I'll put bananas on the shopping list.

Each day, we're given many opportunities to open up or shut down. The most precious opportunity presents itself when we come to the place where we think we can't handle whatever is happening. ... There's no way we can manipulate the situation to make ourselves come out looking good. ... Basically, life has just nailed us. It's as if you just looked at yourself in the mirror, and you saw a gorilla. The mirror's there; it's showing you, and what you see looks bad. You try to angle the mirror so you will look a little better, but no matter what you do, you still look like a gorilla. That's being nailed by life, the place where you have no choice except to embrace what's happening or push it away." --Pema Chödrön, "This Very Moment is the Perfect Teacher"

You know, I'm not overweeningly ambitious. If I can eventually get back to something like this ...

I guess I'll call it a day.

Comments

[Jo]

You know I don't remember actually saying "schmorilla." But it does sound like something I'd say, so I'll give you license.

Jilbur, Jilbur, Jilbur. What's to be done? Am I going to have to go over there and hug you? Because I will. If that's what I have to do, I will squeeze you and gently bite your shoulder and snuffle in your ear, all the things that in my family mean love and comfort and the possibility of milkshakes. Because you deserve it all, love, comfort, milkshakes galore. These things should be showered upon you. Not the milkshakes though. At least not literally.

Also, I am in love with Gorilla #3. If that is what you look like, well, there's no WAY you're not getting squeezed.

[Sonetka]

Just wanted to say happy mutual birthday to you :).

[Tam]

"she's real
she's ideal
and she's awfully cute!
she's an ever-livin' doll
in a monkey suit!...

take our advice
at any price
a gorilla like jillbur
is might nice!"

I agree with jo--#3 is tops

[Lee]

.....at least your weren't an orangutang. That multi-colored face and bare rear would have REALLY freaked you out.