drowninglotus

So yesterday I felt something: rage. Not only at the self-serving crybabies I work with, but with myself for letting the shit get to me. I don't usually buy into the whole "team player" mentality as it's prescribed by the corporate witch doctors. I know that we're all thrown together in a place we'd rather not be due to the inability to eat and pay rent otherwise. But, Christ, why do people feel the need to compound the agony of the daily grind by being so moronically selfish? Can't we work together to ease the pain? You know, smile-on-your-brother type jazz.

Maybe it's just disheartening to see work as a microcosm of global struggle. When I see one man pushing another's head under water so he can breathe I feel like chopping his arms off. And that's the inner struggle; helping without hurting. I'm far from enlightened in that aspect. I've considered going the egoist route. Maybe being the metaphorcial Mersault and idly sit by while my execution is declared. I like to drink hard and fuck hard and work hard, but putting out a hand to rise up another is a part of the essence too.

Question:
I'm at a wedding waiting for the couple to appear so we can blow bubbles at them (bubbles seeming to be the new rice). My friend's 9-year old son says I shouldn't blow the bubbles because it's not manly. Who teaches young people this shit? If he thinks growing up and being the star quarterback or fucking all the cheerleaders or having the flashy car or picking on the little guy is difficult enough to make him a man, then he should try compassion and patience. Virtue is the hardest thing you'll ever do. It will not only make him a man, but it will make him a good person. With that said I still hope he gets to throw the winning touchdown, drive a fast car and nail that skirt.


If anyone happens by here, drop a comment or a message. Tell me Right On or tell me I suck. Just tell me something.