This is me in 2016 when I used worked in a cubicle. Fake smile. Hair breaking out. Twenty-five mile commute. Toll tag. Parking garage. Well paid. That’s a plus, huh? The role offered autonomy and fully utilized my talents and skills. I was a contractor who fell in love with the company and thought I wanted to stay. A high visibility position with an international executive clientele to serve. Not at all U.S. centric. Paradise. I was thriving, until I was not. If was the summer my grandmother passed away. I left and came back, and things had changed. A new open workspace near an open kitchen with lots of free snacks and drinks. My space mates were this cute collection of vocal and disenchanted millennials. I raised a well adjusted millennial, as a single parent. I did not understand these people at all. Eventually, I was out of there. No harm no foul. I think of the company often. What they do, and why they do what they do. I feel pride having left my footprint there. But the company of whiney ass colleagues, professionals and amateurs, I can do without. I went back to art school, full time again. The best thing I could have done for myself was truly focus on my gifts to fulfill the promise that they will make room for me. Lord, Lord, Lord. - Leroy Jones is up on my music playlist right now- and I sway in my seat, singing "Lord, Lord, Lord..” with gratitude for this time to focus.
Shift changed on this plane, when Kobe’s helicopter crashed, coming up two years on the 26th. Then came Covid, a pandemic of life-changing proportions, that’s still not over. If we can mask up and go to parties and bars, and drive on ice, and endure 130 degree heat index to go outside and do stupid shit, let alone needful stuff, we can get through anything. Watch Shark Tank and hear what it costs to make products and what they sell them to us, for. That’s the nature of employment. They only pretend to pay you in proportion to what your labor provides. You will never be paid your exact worth. So.. be true to yourself whilst you get through the b.s. that gets thrown at you by the climate, coworkers, politicians, the economy, the enemy, and that beer bottle tossing fool in the backseat of that black Kia Rio, at Spring Valley and Coit..
And this is why I write so much: I can’t find a therapist I trust. The good one I had, she quit and went to art school, too. And .. now,
I just want to share the rest of my food with you.
Anyone can teach you about love. I can make you good at it.
| Photo & Prose by Jackie D. Rockwell |All Rights Reserved © 2008-2022 |