Up until a little over an hour ago, for the past six months or so I'd been sharing my bedroom with a monster. A greedy, disrespectful and inconsiderate bastard. Actually, not a bastard, I know this because it is I who Fathered this frightful creature. It was borne of my laziness.
It happened so fast, like a cheap one night stand (so I hear). For me it was a convenient way to quickly organize the research on my dissertation. Without much thought I put together two little piles on my desk, one for written notes, the other for books.
All very well, no harm done, that was at least until the rate of which I was accumulating research exceeded the speed that I could process it.
The two neat piles slowly lost their way. I won't try and swerve the culpability that should rightly fall on my own shoulders. It was ultimately my responsibility to ensure that these piles had a good upbringing, that they were well manicured, pruned and generally tidied up every so often. But, in short, I stopped caring for them. They disgusted me ever more as they grew unsightly and obese, serving as a constant reminder that I wasn't putting enough hours into my dissertation.
The piles had me in their sights, they eventually joined forces and became one large stack. Its intentions were malignant, it wished me harm. I could sense it scowling at me, whispering discouraging words.
In all this time I hardly gave a second thought to my poor old desk who was suffering silently under the huge weight of this beast. I suppose the desk, being the loyal and humble servant that it is thought it a matter of discipline to keep quiet and to not add further strife to its masters mind.
The final straw came in the dead of night. I was in bed, everything was silent in the house. Suddenly the stack made an all out offensive move, it committed what in my book constitutes an act of aggressive warfare. It lunged forward and with a loud horrible wail rolled itself off the desk and onto the floor.
This could only mean one thing, it was actively seeking new territory. The stack had outgrown the confines of the desk in much the same way a Lion cub outgrows its first cage.
The sound of it landing startled me awake. I quickly fumbled the light on and to my horror I saw the digusting sight of it sprawled all over my floor.
For the first time I was... well... honestly, I was scared. Heaven knows I can look after myself alright. But there were women and children next door to think of for christ sakes.
In all our time together the stack had never been so brazen, had never dared, to physically move. It was time to put an end to this madness once and for all.
What spurred me on and instilled in me the belief that I could defeat this beast was just a subtle little look from my good old desk. And that look filled me with regret and remorse. How could I ever of been so short sighted and foolish as to think that I could get on without my desk? After all we've been through, all the work we've completed together. My best words have been written at that desk, my greatest drawings, drawn at that desk. It was my companion.
So through my eyes I reassured it, I told it that it will not have to suffer so for very much longer. But let us not act it haste, I said, or else the stack may end up getting the best of us both. Let us wait, plot a fool proof plan and then strike tomorrow when it thinks that tonight's affront has gone unchallenged.
I brought this thing into the world, I knew whose responsibility it was to take it out. So that's what I did. I eliminated it. Rendered it obsolete. Terminated it. Neutralized its threat. Nullified its future. However you want to put it, the thing is no more.
I write this now, sweaty and bruised, for it put up a good fight. But now the desk is free, never again will I let even so much as a single sheet of paper come between us. Okay, that might prove to be a bit difficult considering it is a desk after all. Well, I won't let another stack come between us at least.
So now here I am, saddled up in my old seat. My desk and I prepare to ride off into the future, in the direction of the rising Sun, carried along by a stream of unwritten words, through the dust of potential creativity.
Little pile of notes just here...
