Squamous should be a state of mind

The ability of my mind to absorb input is something like the ability of broadband to pass along packets of data. What surprises me sometimes is just how much input I can stuff into my mind in real time. Right now I'm listening to the air conditioning fan, the trucks and earthmovers across the street, the occasional shout of a person, and the click of these keys as I type. I'm watching the screen and shielding my eyes from the glare that reflects off the screen from the light of the window. I'm noticing that the Publish Post button is not the same shade of orange as the "B" logo up above, and the one-page calendar I taped to the wall for this week is moving slightly in the breeze from the open window. I can feel the emotional weight of an email from an angry student. My multi-tasking brain is still contemplating a DVD I watched earlier about famous playwrights and dividing it up into useful portions for class. The part of my mind that too often desires food says that soon I will be able to excuse myself and go in search of grazing. My mouth responds with a tautening of muscles and some drooling that I wish would not happen. I suppose that's part of God's design--the human response to food. A student named Jen, who was my student last year and works across the hall, walks by a couple of times. Even though I see her for a millisecond as she flashes by, I know who it is. I don't even look up. The memory of the lawn not yet mowed at home floods my top-level consciousness, because a hedge trimmer sound started up outside. The broadband pipe isn't full yet.

Another time in the day, triggers may go off that flood my mind with emotions. As the emotions flow, my boss may walk by, and even though he doesn't stop, I remember several duties are coming up that he will require of me. Today, each day, I feel the pressure of the time. The time in today fills quickly; it is already promised to so many and so much. It begins to bulge and sag. The pounds-per-square-inch start to show in the veins on my neck.