BeINspired

MasterPeace: how dare I?

The whole scenario seems beyond my ability to grasp--

A cold LCD monitor emits a hardly audible buzz. Its glow is safe. Comforting.
We've known each other for quite some time now: we are good friends.
It shows me many things:
Wondrous things.
Scary things.
Heartwrenching things.
I shift my weight as I resettle myself on my padded leather computer chair.
I hate how it creaks.

News: lines and lines of text about places with hard to pronounce names.
About people with harder to pronounce experiences.
Apostrophes interject syllables, consonants and vowels waltz carefree as my tongue struggles to keep with their pace.
I try to spread a message I can barely articulate.
Journalists or reporters? Who's there and who's not? When can I go?
I: read.
My imagination conjures imagery, not empathy.
They're good, these writers. They should get awards for their ability.
Maybe they are all English teachers: I never paid attention in creative writing class.

MasterPeace.
A single life is impossible to comprehend. Too straining. Let's make concepts.
Concepts, we trim into categories. Categories we plug into stereotypes.
It's cozy here.
We champion vanity: egos fund Charity's selective caress.
A dollar for a soapbox, not a bad deal. Get off mine. Here, I'll lend you a buck: buy your own.
It's cozy here.
Apathy champions lives: news stations fund Ignorance.
Still cozy.
Wait.
No: I do care.
I focus my attention on the atrocities, but its span gives way to a grumbling belly.
I walk to my fridge. 3/4 of a steak and cheese sub, loaded. Got it the night before last. A microwave beep and its sizzly. I eye it: change my mind. I feed the trash can in the corner. On the phone in 3 seconds. 35 more minutes and my teeth sink into fresh made cheesy Italian goodness.
Life: is good.
I return to the glow. It tells me 6 died. Am I sad? Too hard to tell. No. I'm angry. Motivated. I want to do something.
MasterPeace: I am ready.
I look over to the TV: time for Family Guy. The glow waits patiently for my return.
I fall asleep on the couch.

Morning.
Is that heartburn? What did I do last night? I'm behind. Why do I let myself get so distracted?
Time: work.
I turn the shower on, water shoots out from some magic portal to Infinity.
I let it run: it has to be the right temperature.
I return to the glow. E-mails. 6 of them.
I have to respond.
I work through them: 20 minutes of pure focus. I am accomplished.
I am a professional: I put out fires, big ones, little ones, all kinds. Keep the parents happy
Been doin it for 4 years now.
I'm the best at what I do(n't) do.

A child crying. Her belly 4 times the size of her head. Flies traverse her flesh,
Crawling.
What a picture.
I put it in my encyclopedia. Alphabetically, of course.
Convenient how it fits so perfectly.
Love it.
Then again, maybe I shouldn't.
Shower's still running: forgot to send out an e-mail. Let me do that first.
Flourish: Done. Water pressure's horrific. Too hard.
Have to remember to tell maintenance to fix that.

Let's MasterPeace: I'm inspired. Great ideas flow from an uncaged, but highly categorized mind.
I abide by the rules, but get by on delivery.
I'm an 8-ball at a cue ball factory.
I shine.
What do you expect?
Good boy. Praise me. What are you doing?
Don't follow me please:
I'm sleepwalking.
I am the product of my own encyclopedia:
And a little bit of yours, too. Just for taste, of course.
I haven't read through all the sections yet though but you can borrow it when I'm done.
Actually, we can share.