Its quite a bit cooler than it was yesterday and I think that its helped my mood considerably. Ive noticed that when its hot my engine tends to run a little hotter and I cant think straight. Its overcast outside but somehow I can see clearer today. Yesterday all I could do was complain about how much I despise this carbon copy world that Im living in. Now that Ive had a chance to cool down a bit Im trying to understand why I feel this way.
Its pretty simple I think. I cant stand for the complete lack originality. When I come to work now I have to get off the bus and walk about a quarter of a mile to my building. It takes me right thru the heart of a big suburban corporate playground. As I was walking up the hill today I watched as cars went by. It was bland parade of coupes and SUVs filled with sports jackets and button down shirts. Each one looked like it was carrying the same people. I think I saw the same suit and tie in at least five different cars. Its hard to think of them as individuals when they all look exactly the same. I waded through a huge ocean of nondescript cars, all parked in nice neat uniform lines. It was hard to tell where one car ended and another began. I imagine this is what sailors must have felt like when they were out to sea, where the only thing to tell you where you started and where youre going is the sun. I found myself wishing that maybe Christopher Columbus was wrong and that maybe I would just end up walking off the face of this god-forsaken planet...
...
Here it is 6 hours after I started writing this, 9pm, and in the bare silence of my cubical I can hear the soft chatter of a child. One of my fellow employees brought his kid in while he finished up some of his work. The poor guys probably completely overworked and underpaid and now hes forced to bring his little boy in while he finishes up work. Work that could probably wait until tomorrow but some fat-cat has to have it done "ASAP" I can hear the pleasant banter of this child trying so hard to amuse himself in the vastly unexciting world of grown-ups.
"Daddy, whats this for?"
"Daddy, can I play with this?"
"Daddy, can I take this home with me?"
Daddy answered all of his little questions and tried to get through his work at the same time and just as I sat down to start rattling away on my keyboard after a much needed break I heard him again:
"Daddy, I hope I never have to become a slave."
This breaks my heart. It shatters it into tiny little pieces. Why, because not only is this beautiful little ray of innocence going to one day have to conform and become exactly that, but because this is how hes sees his father, as a slave.
I havent wanted to cry so hard in quite some time.
Its pretty simple I think. I cant stand for the complete lack originality. When I come to work now I have to get off the bus and walk about a quarter of a mile to my building. It takes me right thru the heart of a big suburban corporate playground. As I was walking up the hill today I watched as cars went by. It was bland parade of coupes and SUVs filled with sports jackets and button down shirts. Each one looked like it was carrying the same people. I think I saw the same suit and tie in at least five different cars. Its hard to think of them as individuals when they all look exactly the same. I waded through a huge ocean of nondescript cars, all parked in nice neat uniform lines. It was hard to tell where one car ended and another began. I imagine this is what sailors must have felt like when they were out to sea, where the only thing to tell you where you started and where youre going is the sun. I found myself wishing that maybe Christopher Columbus was wrong and that maybe I would just end up walking off the face of this god-forsaken planet...
...
Here it is 6 hours after I started writing this, 9pm, and in the bare silence of my cubical I can hear the soft chatter of a child. One of my fellow employees brought his kid in while he finished up some of his work. The poor guys probably completely overworked and underpaid and now hes forced to bring his little boy in while he finishes up work. Work that could probably wait until tomorrow but some fat-cat has to have it done "ASAP" I can hear the pleasant banter of this child trying so hard to amuse himself in the vastly unexciting world of grown-ups.
"Daddy, whats this for?"
"Daddy, can I play with this?"
"Daddy, can I take this home with me?"
Daddy answered all of his little questions and tried to get through his work at the same time and just as I sat down to start rattling away on my keyboard after a much needed break I heard him again:
"Daddy, I hope I never have to become a slave."
This breaks my heart. It shatters it into tiny little pieces. Why, because not only is this beautiful little ray of innocence going to one day have to conform and become exactly that, but because this is how hes sees his father, as a slave.
I havent wanted to cry so hard in quite some time.