I feel like something is pressing down on me, like one of those machines that crushes past-their-prime cars in a junkyard. It must be the weight of 4 1/2 more days of this desk holding me back, this computer staring me down, these keystrokes falling painfully in my ears. A full work week carries with it a heaping portion of disdain and a measure of apathy only an American youth could muster.
My mind has this vicious cycle, though, that doesn't stop at loathing my employment. See, my mind wanders from loathing to disdain to apathy, and then into the woods of ungrateful snobbery and it's associated guilt. It's not enough that I don't want to be in this cubicle for another second, I feel my grace is lost and humility stomped when I start to take this steady paycheck for granted. When the resentment for these little walls sets it, so does the guilt; so many people are without a livelihood, who am I to be angry at mine? And the cycle tumbles wildly in my head, taking out all innocently bystanding thoughts and ambitions.
The only temporary relief I've found is a treadmill at the gym across the street. Some people feel like a treadmill is a pointless run to nowhere; a hamster wheel with no progress made. I, however, feel like I'm miles away from this desk after a few short minutes on the belt. At some point I'll get a runner's high, and hopefully get far enough up to be able to look down at my anger and see it in perspective.
I have every right to feel overqualified and over-intelligent for this job; there are very few things in my day that require more than vague attention and basic motor skills. I have every right to resent the stack of papers needing filing, given to me like they were a gift; this is not whatI have student loans for.
I should not, however, let this job eat my creativity like a light snack, or hunt my motivation for sport. The vicious tumbleweeds that have taken over my mind again on this Monday morning will not be allowed to persist into the afternoon. Today is too important.
Monday, December 1, 2008
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Dear Internet
Hello again big empty cyber space!
I know it's been a while since I've written, but I'm afraid I don't have much to tell you. Well sure, the U.S. has elected a young, eloquent black man President, the violence in the Congo is flaring up, and the economy is in the toilet - but you knew that. You are the internet, the portal that so many of us get our news from... how could you not know everything that's been happening?
Me? Well my life is the same, only I discovered my dog won't poo in the rain and a lot of my friends are conservative. Weird, I know... she's a dog, why the problem with the rain, right?
I have no plans for travel, despite taking a travel writing course and being an avid reader of travel websites. Living vicariously I guess.
I am still at my job... yes the one I don't care for. The money is talking louder now that there's a recession pending. Besides, I'm trying to get a freelance writing career off the ground... *cough-scoff*
That's about it from this end. What about you, what have you been up to?
I know it's been a while since I've written, but I'm afraid I don't have much to tell you. Well sure, the U.S. has elected a young, eloquent black man President, the violence in the Congo is flaring up, and the economy is in the toilet - but you knew that. You are the internet, the portal that so many of us get our news from... how could you not know everything that's been happening?
Me? Well my life is the same, only I discovered my dog won't poo in the rain and a lot of my friends are conservative. Weird, I know... she's a dog, why the problem with the rain, right?
I have no plans for travel, despite taking a travel writing course and being an avid reader of travel websites. Living vicariously I guess.
I am still at my job... yes the one I don't care for. The money is talking louder now that there's a recession pending. Besides, I'm trying to get a freelance writing career off the ground... *cough-scoff*
That's about it from this end. What about you, what have you been up to?
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Rose-Colored Glasses
I remember multiple history professors warning us that people have a strong tendency to view the past through rose-colored glasses. I have succumb and am officially one of those people.
Recently, while trying to get my eyes to uncross from a morning full of data and spreadsheets, I found myself browsing the food service section of online job ads thinking to myself 'I have lots of coffee experience, I could be a barista at this place... ooo or this one.' I officially hung up my espresso apron just before leaving college and haven't looked back, until now. I used to make a mean cup'o'joe, but going back to minimum wage + tips doesn't seem like logical evolutionary growth for my career, or my bank account.
Thats when I realized I'm not longing for the job, I'm longing for the life I had during that time. I'm pretty sure everyone looks back at their college days with a sort of nostalgia that clouds the gratitude and progress of today; everyone looks back at that time with rose-colored glasses. I suppose in normal, productive, successful human being terms, I'm better off today than I was back then.
But as I sit in my cubicle watching the minutes slowly tick closer to 5pm, I start to wonder if I really want to judge my life in normal terms. My recent vacation - from work, computers, most phone calls, and all TV - was the healthiest I've felt in a long time. I feel perpetually... gross... when sitting at my desk day in and day out. My eyes feel like their failing, my stomache turns relentlessly, my wrists hurt and I'm trapped in one giant sinus flare-up; not to mention the awful case of office-butt I'm terrified I'm developing. Rose-colored glasses or not, I'm definitely longing for times past and jobs far removed from servers and cubicle walls.
Recently, while trying to get my eyes to uncross from a morning full of data and spreadsheets, I found myself browsing the food service section of online job ads thinking to myself 'I have lots of coffee experience, I could be a barista at this place... ooo or this one.' I officially hung up my espresso apron just before leaving college and haven't looked back, until now. I used to make a mean cup'o'joe, but going back to minimum wage + tips doesn't seem like logical evolutionary growth for my career, or my bank account.
Thats when I realized I'm not longing for the job, I'm longing for the life I had during that time. I'm pretty sure everyone looks back at their college days with a sort of nostalgia that clouds the gratitude and progress of today; everyone looks back at that time with rose-colored glasses. I suppose in normal, productive, successful human being terms, I'm better off today than I was back then.
But as I sit in my cubicle watching the minutes slowly tick closer to 5pm, I start to wonder if I really want to judge my life in normal terms. My recent vacation - from work, computers, most phone calls, and all TV - was the healthiest I've felt in a long time. I feel perpetually... gross... when sitting at my desk day in and day out. My eyes feel like their failing, my stomache turns relentlessly, my wrists hurt and I'm trapped in one giant sinus flare-up; not to mention the awful case of office-butt I'm terrified I'm developing. Rose-colored glasses or not, I'm definitely longing for times past and jobs far removed from servers and cubicle walls.
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Freedom from Tyranny
It is a Wednesday, but in essence, a Friday. Late tonight I will board a plane, doze off with the help of an in-flight cocktail, and wake up in the Caribbean; my first formal paid vacation in my seedling of a career! As is to be expected, this pseudo-Friday's creep of the clock has been nothing short of agonizing. Several of my cubicle co-dwellers are out today, and the only sounds are the occasional laugh from the direction of upper management (laughter isn't allowed among us peons) and the droning hum of the towering servers in the closet behind me.
My workload for the day is more scant than a Vegas showgirl's wardrobe, so I've been splitting my time between Mahjong, research on travel and trying to look busy spackling and painting dinged up office walls; yes, my desk job has turned into a building maintenance job. When I returned to my desk from my painting adventures (let me tell you I'm no Picasso) I received the email that my supervisor had left for the day, citing a cold and need of sleep. I couldn't help but feel the slight tingle of freedom run up my spine; and then I wondered, when did it become that cubicle life became synonymous with living under tyranny? And how long is it going to take before my fellow 9-5ers and I stage the rebellion we so desperately need?
Ah but then we'd all be lost, for what would we covet if the sacred Paid Vacation was no longer held just a few hours out of reach on a Wednesday that breathes like a Friday?
My workload for the day is more scant than a Vegas showgirl's wardrobe, so I've been splitting my time between Mahjong, research on travel and trying to look busy spackling and painting dinged up office walls; yes, my desk job has turned into a building maintenance job. When I returned to my desk from my painting adventures (let me tell you I'm no Picasso) I received the email that my supervisor had left for the day, citing a cold and need of sleep. I couldn't help but feel the slight tingle of freedom run up my spine; and then I wondered, when did it become that cubicle life became synonymous with living under tyranny? And how long is it going to take before my fellow 9-5ers and I stage the rebellion we so desperately need?
Ah but then we'd all be lost, for what would we covet if the sacred Paid Vacation was no longer held just a few hours out of reach on a Wednesday that breathes like a Friday?
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Morning
I've been up for several hours already, thanks to an early morning flight that's taking my significant other across the country as we speak. For the last two weeks I've had an extra person in my house, now I have one less than normal. It's a lonely thought knowing that the dog and I on our own for the next week, but this morning I couldn't help but bask in the quiet of an empty apartment.
Morning has never been my forte, but once I'm up and moving it's one of my favorite places to be. The lovely, slow pace of the sunrise reminds me to stop and gaze out at the long-legged birds stalking the shallow tides of the bay before I'm forced to scurry off to the bus stop. Most of the time the ride into the city is enjoyable in its own peculiar way; I get to be an observer of the hustle in the streets for a short time before having to become a participant. The speedy, tottering walk of women in high heels, the saunter of square-jawed black men in crisp white shirts, the unenthusiastically dutiful shuffle of those charged with keeping the plaza clean; they can all be missed when that hurried feeling kicks in at the first crosswalk counting down the seconds before traffic comes speeding back in your direction, and often doesn't end until after 5pm.
The beauty and the inspiration end as soon as the elevator starts moving toward the top floor of this splendid old building. I read an article the other day that talked about how being pigeonholed in a cubicle drains the life and creative energy out of a person; you're telling me. I don't know if its the lack of mental stimulation, the tedious repetitive tasks, or the coworkers I want to strangle every so often, but there's something about 9am that kills the tranquility of the morning and tends to ruin the rest of my day. But don't worry, I'm already planning my escape. I'll be 25 in March, and I've decided that its time for me to leave the North American continent, at least for a while, in pursuit of a lifestyle that stays inspired from dawn until well after dusk.
Morning has never been my forte, but once I'm up and moving it's one of my favorite places to be. The lovely, slow pace of the sunrise reminds me to stop and gaze out at the long-legged birds stalking the shallow tides of the bay before I'm forced to scurry off to the bus stop. Most of the time the ride into the city is enjoyable in its own peculiar way; I get to be an observer of the hustle in the streets for a short time before having to become a participant. The speedy, tottering walk of women in high heels, the saunter of square-jawed black men in crisp white shirts, the unenthusiastically dutiful shuffle of those charged with keeping the plaza clean; they can all be missed when that hurried feeling kicks in at the first crosswalk counting down the seconds before traffic comes speeding back in your direction, and often doesn't end until after 5pm.
The beauty and the inspiration end as soon as the elevator starts moving toward the top floor of this splendid old building. I read an article the other day that talked about how being pigeonholed in a cubicle drains the life and creative energy out of a person; you're telling me. I don't know if its the lack of mental stimulation, the tedious repetitive tasks, or the coworkers I want to strangle every so often, but there's something about 9am that kills the tranquility of the morning and tends to ruin the rest of my day. But don't worry, I'm already planning my escape. I'll be 25 in March, and I've decided that its time for me to leave the North American continent, at least for a while, in pursuit of a lifestyle that stays inspired from dawn until well after dusk.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Fulfillment
Every time I find myself doing some tedious, menial task I start to feel the cynicism creep up my spine and into my internal dialogue.
Yeah! I went to school for an extra five years so I could be an expert filer! The thousands of dollars of student loan debt I've accrued is totally worth it now that I'm qualified to sort manila folders into reusable and to-be-recycled piles!
I know I should just be grateful to have a job at all at this point in the economic saga, especially one with benefits and paid vacation. But I can't help but think that my life has a higher purpose than the copier can provide, even though it is a very nice copier.
I'm searching for my dharma in the wide world of clerical duties, and for some reason, I can't find it. So at the end of every day I'm left with resounding questions: Where am I going with my career? Why can't I just be grateful for the opportunities I've been given? and whose science-project cheese is that in the break room fridge?
Love ~H
Yeah! I went to school for an extra five years so I could be an expert filer! The thousands of dollars of student loan debt I've accrued is totally worth it now that I'm qualified to sort manila folders into reusable and to-be-recycled piles!
I know I should just be grateful to have a job at all at this point in the economic saga, especially one with benefits and paid vacation. But I can't help but think that my life has a higher purpose than the copier can provide, even though it is a very nice copier.
I'm searching for my dharma in the wide world of clerical duties, and for some reason, I can't find it. So at the end of every day I'm left with resounding questions: Where am I going with my career? Why can't I just be grateful for the opportunities I've been given? and whose science-project cheese is that in the break room fridge?
Love ~H
Monday, July 14, 2008
Such a Monday
Today is such a Monday. It's drug on for hours, and though I'm waiting anxiously, 5 o'clock has not come around yet.
I've become increasingly bored with my occupational duties - maybe I just work too fast; or at least thats what my co-workers tell me right after I fruitlessly ask for more work. And since when is that a bad thing, anyway?
The often empty hours between 9 and 5:30 leave me ample time to think about all the things I'm not currently doing with my life. I'm not traveling; I'm not writing the novel I promised myself I'd have started by now; I'm not even getting outside as much as I'd like.
To sum it up, here is the email I sent to my significant other at 11:30 this morning:
"Kill me. Smite me, strike me down… if I didn’t have margaritas after work to look forward to I’d steal your golf clubs and go look for a lightning storm."
Love ~H
I've become increasingly bored with my occupational duties - maybe I just work too fast; or at least thats what my co-workers tell me right after I fruitlessly ask for more work. And since when is that a bad thing, anyway?
The often empty hours between 9 and 5:30 leave me ample time to think about all the things I'm not currently doing with my life. I'm not traveling; I'm not writing the novel I promised myself I'd have started by now; I'm not even getting outside as much as I'd like.
To sum it up, here is the email I sent to my significant other at 11:30 this morning:
"Kill me. Smite me, strike me down… if I didn’t have margaritas after work to look forward to I’d steal your golf clubs and go look for a lightning storm."
Love ~H
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