Waking up early so I can write, be creative and conscious for at least this one moment before I go to work and lose my soul. By creating this small excerpt I set an anchor, plot a point to come back to. Breadcrumbs that become stars to navigate by in a primitive sky.
Every day I work for someone else I notice a little death inside of me, each rebellion not acted upon becomes an ugly head in line of ugly heads trailing behind me. Little heads in a row, bang bang bang.
Every day I realize how my ‘occupation’ does not fulfill me. It squanders my aesthetic, I am ashamed to be there and that affects my confidence in myself, it damages my self-trust. When I imagine quitting, the backup safety systems kick in, and a megaphone blares, announcing curfew; ‘…it’s really not a bad job, compared to, like, Wal-Mart or a desk job, etc…’…it would suck to quit this job and just end up with a worse one…’… what if you couldn’t get another job?’ Fear settles in.
Not one to harken to the wisdoms of my elders, I look to my childhood for guidance. Tom Sawyer, Calvin & Hobbes. From these sages a Plan emerges. A tumultuous bit of mischief and mayhem. Now getting out of my job is a game. One I’ll win, because I’ve made the rules.
I’ll get back to you when I get out.