Doing What You Hate (emotional variability)

Doing What You Hate

Just stop, they say. Quit your job. Fk the man. The return to the office is a lie. They just want to control us, watch over our shoulders at our flickering screens in a sea of cubicles. Of course, they don’t need to “see” anything, the software running in the background gives them a direct portal into our every electronic click. Texts, DMs, email, everything. In one company I worked for, there was a command center for monitoring employee behavior. Click a few times outside the “allowed internet” and you’re going to get a nastygram from HR.

Why keep doing it?

Is it because we don’t believe in God?

In my checkered past I have gone for years without a “job.” While they weren’t always the most productive or happy days of my life, they were different. Sure, I’m a moody fk. Depression is not the right word for it. Moody. That’s a better word.

And some days, some weeks, I just don’t want to do anything that’s not creative, aspirational, fun. Some days I don’t even want to do fun. But that’s just mood for ya.

I’m sitting here outside on a random Thursday in August. School has started again for my two college-aged kids away at Texas schools paid for by my ex-wife and me when they were very young. It was probably the best thing she’s ever done for me. The kids. And, the Texas Tomorrow Fund. Kudos and gratitude to her.

I’m sitting here enjoying the morning air. A big rain event over the last few days has broken the unending string of 100+ days. Days so hot, if you don’t get your walk in before 9 am you’re just not going to do it. The air this morning is not hot, but it’s not really fall weather either. The two dogs are running around in the backyard like rugby players, shouts and bumps of joy. This is the place. This is the moment. This is the joy. Just this.

If I believed in God’s plan, I’d begin my Artist’s Way journey right now. If it’s meant to be, He will provide, right? I mean, I don’t particularly want to write about computers and clouds and interconnections. I want to sit here, in a rocking chair, dogs playing, and breathe in one of the last mornings of the summer. The summer I jettisoned my fear of love.

I am still not convinced “follow your bliss” has ever been the best course of action. In fact, it’s gotten me in more trouble, personally, than I’d care to admit here. I may not be a “believer.” His way may not be the only way. See, I’m already in trouble there. How can I expect Him to provide if I question the virgin birth and resurrection? Obviously, I can’t.

So, I’ll end this short-short story here so I can make my next Zoom call. Again, I’m not complaining, I’m blissfully happy at this moment. Sure, I’d rather hit my novel again, or make record release plans for my pre-covid, covid, post-covid record album. Ten songs of deep expression and longing that only about 10 people will ever hear. I’m here. I’m breathing fresh air rather than corporate cubicle air. And I have a Zoom call to interrupt my musing.

Again, I repeat myself, bliss is where you find it. In the here and now.

Read more Short-Short Stories from John.

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