I’m not sure why but I had kind of hoped that he wouldn’t be found guilty. But at the same time I have a feeling he’s not innocent. What a crazy mixed-up world.
EDIT: Did you think that was all I was going to post? Well that’s all I want to post about the King of Pop.
Today I visited about twenty law offices in the downtown Austin area. I observed a fundamental law of office interior design. The higher the office, the more extravagant the furnishings must be.
On the 16th floor there was a triangle shaped waiting area surrounded by floor-to-ceiling panes of glass and a drop-dead gorgeous receptionist who sat at a raised counter with roughly-cut limestone behind her. The name of the law firm floated almost magically in charcoal grey above her head. She was wearing a black headset which was barely noticeable save for the thin wire microphone that ran from her ear to her mouth. Her mouth smoothly eased into a perfect toothpaste commercial smile when she noticed me outside the door. I bit my lip before I swung open the heavy glass door. I felt highly inadequate in my torn blue jeans, Anne Klein wristwatch, and flimsy legal pad.
I expected more extravagance on the next floor and when the elevator doors slid open, I was not the least bit disappointed. Sunlight poured through the windows through wonderful sheets of glass that were melted and molded in circles and squiggles. I resisted the urge to reach out and fit my hand in one of the deep grooves of glass. I only had a few seconds to allow my eyes to sweep the waiting area before I had to open my mouth and say something coherent to the receptionist. This law firm had completely renovated their space. They had knocked down several walls so that the first peek into what should have been a narrow office corridor was actually a large wooden staircase that climbed into the unseen. It was the kind of staircase that I would expect the Beast (as in “Beauty and the”) to have in his haunted mansion. The receptionist was more beautiful than that of the 16th floor, and if I didn’t know better, I could have sworn that she titled her head mechanically when I said my first word. I tried not to smile awkwardly as I ran through my schpeal and thought hilariously to myself, “Stepford Wives.”
As I rode the elevator to the ground floor, I was left thinking about the incredible duty of receptionists at high power offices. Not only must the extravagance of an office’s furnishings increase with the altitude at which it is located, but also the beauty and poise of the receptionist. I thought of all the days I wake up late and don’t have time to apply eyeliner or the days the bags under my eyes are too stubborn to hide. These ladies? They don’t have that luxury. Their eyeliner and flawless skin is as essential as the mahogany desk and granite walkway that greets each potential client. I wonder what it feels like to be furniture.
