Click my mouse.

I sit at my cubicle and scratch my head. Pick my nose. Look at my watch. Check my email. I hear multiple voices behind me. They are all talking to a coworker who sits behind me. I can't think because they do this all day. She needs her own office. I stick in earplugs so I can filter them out of my head. My buddy who was fired last Friday burnt me a C.D. with a ton of really great MP3s. M. Ward is my new favorite band. I think about his music. It's melodic, like a folk singer. I heard a really good Bob Dylan song the other day called the Masters of War. It is very relevant to today's current events.

I wonder when the work will get to me so I can do it. The Art Director has not farmed me any of the Photoshop files. I'm getting very little guidance on this project from anyone. The deadlines are getting closer. My wife is packing all day because we are moving into a new house on Saturday. This is life. This is reality. My baby girl is getting bigger. She's getting harder to pick up. I look at the clock again to see what time it is. I think of my buddy who got fired on Friday. About my buddy who quit last month. About all of the people who have left the company lately.

I wonder what I will be doing a year from now. Where will I be living? My baby girl will be talking by then, almost. My wife and I want to live around more culture. A larger city. A larger job market. I want to do great creative work. Do wonderful things. Work on great projects. Learn as much as I can. Technology is growing too quickly to keep up with it. I have to specialize on what aspect of it I really want to learn. Get really good at that one thing. Learn as much as I can. No one appreciates art. No one appreciates a creative background. Not in Jacksonville.

I think about my time in Brooklyn. How hard it was. About my time in the Army. Think how glad I am that I don't have to clean toilets after my shift is over. Think about how far I have come. Think about how far I have to go. Evolve. Every day. I get an overwhelming urge to go to the bathroom. I hold it as long as I can. I check my email. I check my blog site. I turn up the volume on Windows Media Player. I think about the deadline getting closer. Having to work here this weekend. Having to sleep here.

The camera would be stationed behind my computer chair. You would never see my face. Just the back of my head. I would type. Click my mouse. And you would hear what I was thinking. It would not be funny. It would not be glamorous. It would be reality. Mundane. Quotidian. Every day. Average. Life. This is my reality show.

Do you want to watch?