There is a small scene near the beginning of the Matrix.Keanu Reeves is in his office, right before Lawrence Fishbourne calls him on a newly delivered cell phone. At the beginning of the scene, he is sitting there in a suit, holding his mouse in his had. He is perfectly still. In a fairly quick cut, you see quite clearly that his computer is off. It’s a detail in their engineered life that the robots do not bother to flesh out. It’s an early clue that helps the viewer understand that this is not the real world, just a close facsimile.
Much like Neo, I spend a great deal of waking life in a minor, barely noticeable trance. I only summon enough energy to occasionally make a constructive suggestion or crush someone with a brutal joke. It is a tough trick but one I have mastered to the point where I can even pull it off in the wide open office space I was seated in yesterday afternoon. I am not perfect though. Every so often the very real world intrudes and suddenly, I’m “plugged” in.
I know I’m not in the Matrix because when I’m at work I hear sh*t like this…
“Well I know I can f*ck right.”
The woman saying it is petite, somewhat attractive and a fake blonde. She is almost yelling into a phone. I am dumbstruck and my coworker, sitting across from me can barely contain himself. He is immediately IMing me.
CS: Oh my god, who is that?
xTian: I have no idea
CS: This is the greatest conversation ever
I am not in this building frequently enough for me to know her.
“Well, I’ve been in the gym, my *ss it tight. I don’t care what he says. My ass don’t stop”
CS: I’m in love
This goes on for some time. During this phone conversation, several themes emerge
- Though she is quite petite her husband is borderline abusive, bringing up her weight gain, the shape of her *ss, her abs (or lack there of) constantly
- He is more than likely cheating on her, or at least she is convinced of he is
- They have a young baby
- She doesn’t care because she is in the gym, working out and will show him
Makes you want to pay more attention to the world around you, doesn’t it?
Postscript - Once she left, I ran over and looked through what was on top of her desk to ascertain her name. A series of Google searches revealed that she was a former competitive fitness model. I felt less bad. What I thought was emotional abuse was probably just training with her wandering husband providing objective feedback "your ass is hanging out" is totally cruel when you are talking to the mother of your child but in bounds if she is training as a fitness model, natch.
Still all that effort into regaining a 6 pack and she had a 5 dollar dye job on her head. Next time I see her I’ll make her feel bad about her hair. I’m sure she will appreciate it in the long run.
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