Some days I’m far more monkey than machine. In monkey-mode, I’m easily distracted. Squirrel!

When I’m in monkey mode, I just want to be distracted with something pleasurable. Ooh, shiny things on the internet. I think I’ll eat my weight in MacDonald’s today. Ugh, scratch, scratch, scratch. Must eat more. Armageddon is coming and it won’t be easy to find MacDonald’s hash browns. More scratching ensues.

Write? I can’t write, I’m a monkey. Work out? No, seriously, monkey here. I’ll only exercise if something is chasing me and wants to eat my monkey butt. Hey, I’m gonna start saying that to people at work. You don’t like what I have to say? Eat my monkey butt. I’m sure that it will foster understanding and joy among the masses.

When I’m machine, it’s awesome. Systems online at 4:36. Start my computers. 4:41 I leave for the gym. 5:15 I begin workout. 6;15 drive home. 6:30 begin writing. 8:30 begin work. Work until 12:01. Back to work at 12:31. Finish the day at 5:00 P.M. Interface with familial unit until 8:00. Read books until 9:30. Shutting down. Good night, Dave. Good night, Hal.

Oh, why can’t I be a machine? Why, Spock, why?

Hmm, maybe Star Trek has the answer. Well, duh. All of life’s mysteries can be solved with a little Star Trek. Data longed to be an artist, and while he could master the forms perfectly, there was no soul in his art. I’ve read books like that.

It’s the monkey in us that makes us interesting. The spirit of the animal. The god made flesh. If it wasn’t for our flesh, we’d be pretty boring. I mean, how would I wear my Rockies’ cap?

So when the machine mode hits, I gotta ride it and love it and work it. And when I ape out? Scratch, scratch, scratch.

Squirrel!