Searching Fore A Thought Of My Own
My thoughts right now are of pushing past the notion, and possibly the reality that I have no thoughts right now. It's just rush rush rush. Running through frozen Canadian streets and abusivly early hours to try and catch a last bus to work. A work that is devoid of creativity, where using my intelligence is discouraged, and making autonomous decisions is forbidden. Micro managing, nit picking, and back stabbing are in abundance. Meetings featuring catch phrases like " we need to think outside the box", "let's get on the train" and my personal favourite "we need to decide on deliverables" run together into a blur. A blur that is the back bone of the "all talk and no action" office culture. Sitting in the grey carpetted cubicle walls glowing from the floresent lights overhead.
And the guilt I have over pointing out all that is wrong with work. Coming from a have not part of the world. And being one of the most marginalized and have nots of the have nots. Having worked in drafty dim barns sifting through tables of dirt to pack strawberry plants for $2.12 an hour. And having no work at all many times. Should I not be glad for the glowing cubicle walls. At least it is inside. a chair. A window. This is why it's call "the golden hand cuffs". To cooshy to leave. But devoid of stimulation and more tragically devoid of soul.
Rushing. Standing with the human "herd" that has descended out of the office tower like a bunch of rats jumping out of a sinking wooden priate ship. Cramming onto the buses with the smile devoid faces that conceal thoughts of refinancing morages for houses in the burbs behind glazed over eyes.
Rushing into grocery stores. To pick up the usual stables and receive the usal gocks from the cashiers who have nothing running through their heads except a roll of receipts and nothing in their hands but plastic grocery bags.
Rushing home to make meals and try to beat back the encroaching kitchen stains and teetering tower of recycling.
Rushing. To do it all over again.
And for what? Some days I don't even remember the day before.
Well for survival. For one. That's what.
But the "rat race" does often leave me wondering if have a thought of my own these days. Other than the quote tattoed across the fingers of a guy who I was recently introduced to "Who's next?" Or the thought of how to block out the thought that life may have become that dreaded word "routine".
A lot of artist's websites feature rabblings about their inner contemplations and poinant descriptions of their most stirring emotions. I've identified that I've felt some pressure to keep up with that.
But I think in 2005 I'm going to refrain from these philosopical debates. Not force myself into being one of these artists who feels duty bound to point out those little observations about life that are so simple that they've been overlooked, and thus when pointed out are supposedly insightful.
I'm going to back away from patronizing dogma (preachyness) that many artists are displaying that is evidence that they think they are somehow enlightened to the point that they have something to teach the rest of us. "There there dear. Let me explain life to you."
It's all so obtuse.
This year I'm going to stop censoring, and editing my self. Moreover I'm not going to "package" my thoughts into neat little lessons of the week. I'm just going to write what think. If it's mess. Great.