Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Cricket Moon: Close to Over
There are times at work when I feel like I'm being slowly yet expertly chased by Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys, only instead of flashlights and gumption, they're equipped with blueteeth and blackberries, and they're actually cannibalistic zombie clones, on Abilify... Listening to the corn syrupy-sweet voice of someone who is talking, to you, among others, about something you did, and then neatly pauses to insert "we" rather than stooping so far as to utter your name: this is the experience of my day. "I don't think we need you for anything else", as if anyone had to tell me... I know I've set myself up for some of this--me and my shattered self-esteem plunging into a deep sea of despair from which I could not surface or even so much as rise to a professional level--but after ten long years of putting in (with all due respect) a hell of a lot more effort than most--yes, I did win my beloved snowboard on eBay at work, back when the dollar was still worth something, but no, I don't spend half my day gabbing with my family and friends or trying to figure out how to copy and paste--it's hard not to take the rather broad cold shoulder I've been getting at my job lately like a slap in the face. A hard and clammy slap, telling me that every bit of energy I've expended here--oh, and I know, yes I know, it's all for profit, not for good--making anything work better for anyone, learning bottom up and inside out, putting others needs ahead of my own (yes, I have actually done so) and becoming intimately familiar with the unthinkable details of miles upon miles of heartless lines of data, all this was worse than for nought. As much as I'd like to think that I've gained some valuable skills and accomplished some good deeds, all I've really done is given my time, my health and my hopes to a corporation, in return for a sum of money. Perhaps at some point I may have thought this job might one day support a family, but in fact it has only sucked me dry. To quote one of CM's old songs: now I know the price of signing contracts. I am actually sick and truly tired of having conversations with disinterested parties who office-casually annihilate my new-born sense of well-being, and I guess I really don't have either the wherewithal or the smarts or the stomach to find a way of being okay with spending any more of my life-giving days on this magical planet in an increasingly non-cooperative, uncompassionate, uncreative, anti-poetic and counter-evolutionary environment. You don't have to add value if you're doing something that matters. There's no such thing as a win-win if you're not competing with anyone, and you can take the whole fucking project offline for all I care. Sure I'm a team player, but my sport is not dodge-ball. The bottom line is that I am not on board. I'll be the stewardess in the parachute. And I'll be the one who jumps at 40,000 feet, and dies from exposure and lack of oxygen... Fuck, it's Tuesday. Hey kids: what happened to that girl in pigtails?
(Here I would entreat you to spare me the concession of adding a disclaimer to this post about how good I've really got it, you sanctimonious sons of bitches...)
On another, entirely different note, the moon is full tonight, the palest hazy green glow floating in an ocean of sky... It's the height of cricket season, the air is dry and cool, and it's moving real slow... it's that time of year when everyone is wearing summer like their favorite pair of underwear--comfortable as can be, but close to the end. Driving home well after sunset with the windows down, top open, old motor mount back and shifting smoothly, a night like tonight can make even a little woman like me feel like getting out from behind the wheel and taking a long, easy ride on the back of a bike...and god I hate to say it but a smoke would be so good, right about now. Fuck, is it Tuesday?
Well, yes, it is. And it's a little after ten now, and I am nowhere near to winding down for the day. I have a mind to take myself on a good long drive, find a grassy little spot by the river, drink a couple beers and fall asleep on the ground, with an eye on the moon... Is there something I'm supposed to be doing tomorrow? Well, yes, there is. But I'm asking myself tonight, does that really matter at all? Well?