Jan 23, 2012


Office gossip is the kind of weed that does more harm than good - even though often is the only way to get information about the character of certain people (proper filters applied!) - and like the weed, it springs everywhere and you can't eliminate it. Also, you can't kill it basically because in every freaking office there's at least one - but usually more - people of the kind that won't do their jobs and their lives is so plain, so blah, so drab, so colorless, that they NEED the lives of other people to actually add some excitement to their tasteless existence. Gossip usually tends to be malicious and seeks usually to create a conflict where there's no natural conflict. Usually.

Then there's the gossip about what's not their business. The gossip about who is going out with whom, who went where in vacations, who bought what where, who likes what, who worships what and so on. I myself haven't been inmune to the general curiosity, either because of the size of my shoppings, and my prancing around everyday in Benetton clothes or something of the sort, and then also because I traveled every year to Hungary, or the malicious gossips spread because I often went out to lunch with friends, sometimes girls, sometime boys (because women who are single and haven't made friends in the office, are not allowed to meet with unknown women or girls because they are automatically LESBIANS, nor with unknown men or guys becuase they are automatically WHORES). It never bothered me much because I knew the truth -  healthy finances, less acquired responsabilities, broader circle of friends than what they have - but this time around it's different. This time around the office and the plain-existence hags have fallen upon a piece of information I really wanted to remain private, and which relates to my future plans, and made it of general knowledge. Why? Do they profit from it? Is there something in it for them? No, it's just because they have nothing better to do. Oh no, but Bunny must come around and spice up their lives with the bits and pieces of her awesome life.

Do they get off pretending they are me? Does it make them wet imagining how my life is? Do they touch themselves thinking about being a day in my shoes? They must, as they evidently need so desperately to share the latest news of my life. Yes, I know my life is heading to something so much more wonderful, because I'll live where they only dream of going for a week or two if they can twist arms enough to get a seminar or a scholarship. I'll be living there. That's going to be my daily reality. Is that the matter? Am I the fairy princess in the fairy tale they can never catch because they never did the effor to make something nice and decent about it? Yes, I work, yes, I don't feed on gossip, yes I'm quite selfsufficent, and yes, my life is RICH. I've a wonderful life, I've amazing friends, I have penpals (something most of them haven't heard of), I've a delightfully marvelous boyfriend, I've two citizenships, I speak more languages than they do, I've a wonderful, colorful, shiny future before me, an open mind, a heart filled with hope, a soul blessed by God, a path splashed with flowers, the key to millions of doors... and I actually do my work, and love doing it.

Sorry their life is plain, I wasn't in charge of planning it, but that doesn't give you the right to feed on the headlines of my days.

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