There Is Another Sky

Whenever my boss calls me into his office to hand out an assignment, I get a pop-culture quiz. Thanks to the fact that I’ve never lived in a house with a TV, I fail all of them. He got a little twitchy around the mouth when I asked him if the Rose Bowl smelled nice, and when I mixed up Star Trek and Star Wars he almost cried.

Assignments have now been supplemented with lectures on pop-culture.

Since I suspect Boss is secretly a ninja assassin, I figure the quizzes are actually thinly disguised lessons on how to level up as a ninja, so I pay attention. Sometimes it’s pretty hard to figure out what the message is. Okay, to be honest, I haven’t figured any of them out which is why I'm not a ninja. Yet.

Ninja

Anyway, this week's lecture was on why watching football was Good, Right, and Moral. To supplement his argument, Boss cited Jean Paul Sartre, and the Newtonian principles of physics.

(Does that happen when you hit forty? You wake up one day and suddenly physics is no longer a traumatizing memory, but something that you can lob at unsuspecting victims? Damn. I can’t wait for forty.)

Boss: Look, all I’m saying is become conversational. You need to be able to talk to people.

Owl: Um, I can talk about books.

Boss: Child, this is America. We’re all too fat, dumb, and happy to read.

Owl: Oh.

Boss: Now go watch the NFL.

Owl: National Forensics League…?

I decided to prove Boss wrong. I can hold a meaningful conversation without resorting to football foolery. (For God's sake, footballers don't even use a proper ball. Maybe footballs start out as proper balls but then they get squashed during the course of the game?) The key was practice. I’d start off with my coworker and work my way up to speaking during meetings, which surely would morph into becoming a social butterfly and hosting balls, before I hit my stride as a talk show host a la Opera or Oprah or whatever her name is. Yes. Practice was going to take me places.

Here’s how it went down in my head.

Owl: Okay we’re going to have an awesome conversation so I don’t have to learn footballese. What do you want to talk about?

Coworker: There is another sky.

[In college, my all time favorite professor waltzed into class one day and said, “Can you imagine running into a stranger who said to you—‘There is another sky!’" Honestly, I couldn’t. But ever since I’ve been hoping.]

Actually, as I practiced I realized the problem with a line like “There is another sky” is you can't actually top Emily Dickinson.

But that’s okay. I decided music would suddenly pour out of this other sky so I wouldn't have to reply and we would all burst into Handel’s Messiah and prance through the hallways until the entire office was belting out Hallelujahs.

In books this is called a deus ex machina. In real life it’s called a miracle.

Yeah. I was all set to do this conversation thing.

Monday morning I stopped by my coworker’s cube and cleared my throat meaningfully. I’d done my homework. I’d practiced. This was going to be awesome.

Reality:

Owl: How was your weekend?

Coworker: Good. Yours?

Owl: Good.

[Awkward silence.]

Owl: It’s your turn to say something.

Coworker: …

Owl: *helpfully* For instance, you could say—There’s another sky!

Coworker: What?

[Owl waits. Long silence. Apparently coworker is not going to say there is another sky.]

Owl: If you said "There's another sky," we could sing Handel's Messiah.

Coworker: Have you been hitting the happy juice?

Owl: You know, I like imaginary you much better.

Coworker: …Imaginary me?

Owl: The version in my head that I practiced this conversation with. Imaginary you quoted Emily Dickinson and could belt out Handel's Messiah like no one's business.It was a good time.

Coworker: If you weren’t blocking the entrance to my cube I’d be backing away slowly…

At that point there was nothing else to do but claim an urgent meeting and sulk in my cube.

And so, I have decided to give up on conversation and figure out another way to earn my ninja laurels. In the meanwhile I plan to devote myself to blogging. Here at least I can say—

There is another sky!

Photo:

Ninja courtesy of Rich Ercolani