Mothballs

Been a long time since I updated. Which is probably appropriate considering that not much has been happening recently for me.

Writing is stalled out. Managed to piece together a few snippets, but nothing that comes close to being part of a coherent whole, and at work, I have this feeling of having to stand ready for...

...for what, I don't know. I got shuffled to a cubicle around the corner from the legal department, and there are times I wonder if I've been forgotten out here. I make it a point to swing by the legal cubicle farm and ask if there's anything I can help with, but often, the answer's an appreciative negative. If that makes sense.

I feel guilty about it. The major project I was working on seems to be largely finished, and now I'm sitting out in no-man's-land. Like one of those battleships they took out of service and mothballed, against the time when it might be needed again. Sealed up, pumped full of nitrogen or argon or something that wouldn't corrode the fittings, set aside, and forgotten.

Can't write because my conscience won't let me (and the ideas are like pulling teeth these days). Can't respond to e-mail because the web-mail sites are blocked at the company level.

I should be grateful for the paycheck. I've spent long enough on the bricks that I can't be resentful. But right now I'm just sitting here, waiting, wondering if someone's going to remember I'm here to help, and costing them money all the time.

Forty-three days until I get sworn in.

Like so many times before, Jack O'Neill said it best.

"I'd like to apologize in advance for anything I may say or do that could be construed as offensive as I slowly go nuts!"

Six hours into the work day, minus half an hour for lunch, and nothing in my in-box, nobody asking for help, no onging tasks to be done. I don't know what's worse, the waiting, the guilt, or the generalized nerves.

Or the isolation. Stuck out here in no man's land.

Need contact with other human beings.

Help?