Wednesday, April 22, 2015

Let's talk smack

Ever had one of those days where you imagine yourself walking into a cement wall again, and again, and again ... c'mon - don't lie. I know you know what I'm talking about.


My day began much the same as most others ... with me schmucking the sleep button roughly 4 times too many (and at 7 minutes per pop - I started at a 28 minute deficit) ... then off to the shower. Once clean, I set about the spackle & paint job that I recreate every morning and then off to work. My commute is roughly 25 minutes at a conservative 10kms over posted ... I may have pushed the envelope on that this am.


Recently, Narcissus (my boss man) decided to give me (or rather allow me to use) a company vehicle in lieu of a raise (... for the past 5 years of my devoted servitude). Now, I suppose the concept was not without merit. Having a vehicle paid for isn't all bad ... and you come off fairly good where taxes, etc are concerned. However, the style of vehicle becomes crucial in this equation. He owns three Mercedes. Very high end Mercedes - like I'm gonna say a little better than a quarter mil worth... I wasn't expecting a Lexus here - but I am management and I am his longest employee ('cause most have grabbed a clue LONG before 5 years go by and get the ef out) so I was at minimum expecting to have a say in the purchase so that it would be a functional vehicle for me. I am a mom ... with size 10 feet, I might add - I'm not little, and I have a family (as previously mentioned) as well as a 90 odd pound dog ... we had been finding the fit of our minivan on the tight side. So ... what does he go out and buy for me to drive? An effing Pontiac Wave ... sweet Mary, mother of God - what am I supposed to do with that? Had he bought me one for each foot, I might have worn them like roller skates ... seriously, folks - I really don't mean to sound quite so ungrateful, but I got groceries last night ... and you know the re-usable cloth bags that the stores are using now?? Six ... I could fit only SIX effing bags into my trunk ... no TP, no cat litter, no dogfood (I didn't buy any - 'cause I knew I would not have the room) ... hell - I didn't even buy laundry detergent for space concerns. I had both kids - so that's the back seat gone - and between my purse, my arse and my feet ... let's call the front occupied ... WTF??!! I'm going to have to do groceries over a two day span. I hate the grocery store. Never mind the fact that I might as well have my pay directly deposited there (not that I GET direct deposit) but ponder this: You move every item you purchase at least seven (often eight) times before ever considering eating it. Shelf - cart - conveyor belt - bag - cart - trunk - house - counter - cupboard/fridge/freezer/bathroom etc. EIGHT TIMES!!! Talk about waste of time and energy ... but to have to drag that over two trips - what am I? A masochist? Needless to say - I'm not overly happy about the car. Had I been allotted a budget and was able to come up with one that I chose - I could have seen that feeling like a perk ... but this? This feels like a punishment ... and if I wasn't in the financial state I am in - I would have declined to take it at all. And you know what? He is exploiting that very fact. He knows I am in a bad spot. He knows I need a vehicle. He could have bought out my van loan for me for LESS MONEY THAN THIS PIECE OF SHIT COST - like by $5K. Does that make an iota of sense to anyone out there? Every day he asks me how much I love my new car ... my inner self is sobbing way back behind memorized reruns of the Simpsons ... I hate it - I fucking hate it ... I'm black and blue from all the places I have hit my head, knees, hips, elbows ... I nearly knocked myself unconscious the other day trying to buckle my youngest's car seat. Still have an egg on my forehead from it. But ... my slightly more diplomatic outer voice simply says: it's fine... which makes him pissy because he wants me to swoon at his overwhelming generosity ... something I might have done if there was an ounce of truth behind the sentiment. Truth is, I have been a loyal and productive employee for 5 years. I have no health/dental. I have no pension, no company savings, no shares. I have NEVER gotten a raise in my salary. He has been known on many occasions to dock my pay for snow days, etc. I was promised commission 4 years ago. I was given a model/formula to follow and have been in line for a commission cheque EVERY YEAR since. I got a lap top for $1K and a $500.00 chq the very first year (which only represented half a year). He owes me well in excess of $8K (not including last year) and I've never seen a penny. When I asked him about it - he determined that since he didn't make enough profit from his other lines of business, that I somehow didn't deserve my bonus anymore. So, yeah - I am having a really tough time with the stupid effing piece of shit tin can on dinky wheels.


People wonder why I am bitter.



So, after my commute in the roller skate - I make it to work. There I am met with email after email containing unhappy news regarding files I am working. Next, I'll have me a little spat with an underwriter ... oh, no wait ... Narcissus just interrupted what I was working on so I could come in and polish his apple in front of his client ... act pleasant ... tell Mr Client how fantastic Narcissus is ... how lucky we all are, working within the hallowed halls of cock-henge ... never mind the fact that there is real work that needs to be completed on my desk, just make him look good - and I do... selling yet another ounce of my soul. Then it's back to ... what was I doing again?? Oh yes - I was picking a fight with a person who has all the power ... sounds familiar. Next I'll take seventeen calls from the same person - ew ... lunch! I'm gettin' the hell outta here. Back after lunch and another deal flies sideways ... now some fighting with a lawyer, that's always a treat.


Soon, it will be time to leave. I would feel more excited about this except the reality is that I am going to have to go BACK to the grocery store ... with both kids ... in the mini-mobile ... which puts supper behind and makes them cranky and me cranky and we'll fight all night long until either they crash, or I do.... smack .... smack .... smack ..... smack .... smack .... smack .... smack (this is me walking into the wall ...)


Saturday, April 11, 2015

Well ... it isn't "light"

There simply must be an explanation forthcoming. Mustn't there? 

Or would it really matter if we knew? Would it change anything?

Are we an experiment of some vastly supreme being? Or a play thing? Sustenance? Hosts?

Utterly undetected, they sidle up beside us and take us unaware. It isn't difficult to imagine these creatures into existence. They are everywhere ... always - a mere disturbance in the air that seeps into our flesh, nesting inside our soul - gorging on our emotion. 

Some take us gently.

The benevolent iteration leads us to our own spiritual nourishment. They guide us through our life long education and teach us how to survive. They thrive on our confidence, wisdom, generosity of spirit and love. They sustain their existence with our overflow, never taking more than they give. Drawn to the positivity we put forth in our world, they flock to us when we are bursting with happiness, goodwill and joy. 

Some, however, stalk us like prey. Preferring the meaty, sickeningly sweet smell of disparity to the clean, crisp taste of symbiosis. 

These needful things must elicit our pain, our sadness, our apathy and most gratifying of all - our fear, to slake their thirst. They coax our naughty inner selves out to play ... wreaking havoc on our lives and (if luck is with them) the lives of others ... further whetting their voracious appetites.

With the efficiency of an assembly line, they whip our ego and temper into a froth. Stealing our focus and dispatching us on fruitless witch hunts. Our choices become rash, our morality becomes lean ... soon, we are caught in a spiral of poor decisions and inevitably we wind up debilitated by fear and dissolution.

In response to the sudden trauma, we generate a defensive field that signals a feeding frenzy. Before we realize what is happening, we're swarmed by sharp teeth and tearing claws. They slip inside - through our mouth and nose and eyes ... filling our ears with malevolent voices and choking off our breath with despair.

The easiest chance for escaping the succubus is to submit; play dead ... go limp ... staunch the flow of emotion. Anything to escape the powerful jaws of our captors before being consumed, whole and alive. 

To spare us the agonizing, slow digestive process that will ensue, we wantonly run into the welcoming arms of yet another beast - equally sharp of tooth, with an endless appetite and inexorable grip. Drugs ... booze ... food ... sex – the vice is moot ... the need for escape is tantamount.

But the guilt, the fear ... they remain.

Worn thin by the relentless predatory pursuit of our own customized design, carrying the stench of a fresh kill, we are hunted in our dreams and into our wakeful hours ... further and further we sink into the abyss. Steeping in self pity so thick, it clogs our pores - sad sacks of failure. Becoming so certain of our doom, we fulfill our own prophecy. 

For our spirit to survive, it is imperative we react in ways that are entirely foreign to our thought process. Fabricating positivity from the deep dark well - in spite of certain annihilation of our spirit ... actively, relentlessly, unconditionally - choose happiness. Again and again ... until it sticks.

The antidote is the antithesis: Dogmatism in the face of overwhelming negativity. 

We must choose.

We must find our way clear to attract the positives of this life or be doomed to the jaws of our foe. An incomprehensible feat for the strongest heart, but diminished by our struggle ... the simple truth is that it is easier to succumb to the whim of our demons than to continue the fight. 

...and so many succumb. 

The very cry for existential validation nothing more than a dinner bell for the wicked abstract.