I am scheming.
Yes, I am. I have to admit it.
I'm going to include some pictures in this post, to show what there is in the world to appreciate that so many of us don't get to even see. Ever. Even if we live around the corner from them. You can touch these rocks, rivers, stones, creatures...they're REAL! But are the lives we weave? How real are they? What are we basing them on?
After last week's PMS related breakdown in which I decided to go (and did) to Wal Mart after work simply to buy a new outfit to wear in the car on the way home (related to the conversation with H I had in which I told him I felt like "a member of the Borg"), I decided this weekend to go on a little job hunt.
It's bad enough when you dread almost every minute of your day, because you know in your heart that it's almost impossible to achieve what the company wants without devoting yourself, heart and soul to it (in manner of evil minion) - but quit another thing when it gets to the point at which you are burning inside your dress code so much that you have to run and spend $40 just to feel like a free woman in your own car. On a sunny day, I might add.
There will come a time soon, yes...very soon, where I no longer have to get up in the morning and fear my occupation. You see, the post earlier in the year about the company...it hasn't changed in my mind. It's become clearer. The lack of tangible compassion in some corporations is very acute. The orders are sent down from the highest levels and followed. The highest levels don't follow up on whether their orders produce human tragedy or ill health of any kind - simply on the issue of profit and whether their orders generated any more. Unless there's a lawsuit, they can ignore the rest and sleep at night.
There's a lot of compassion in the lower ranks, yes, and an awful lot of people I admire, respect and care for. Nobody means to be uncaring...but caring is not just something you feel, it's something you do. There's a good passage in Steven King's "The Green Mile" where Paul Edgecombe is talking about executing John Coffey, and asks what he can say to his God upon reaching the entrance to Heaven - that is was his "job" to kill the miracle that the God had created? Where does the "job" end, and the "human" begin, anyway? There ought to be a line there, in the sand, or the grass, or the concrete - wherever you are in your life, but for some reason, people forget that... Gosh people, why?
In the end, nobody in the position I held is humanly capable of doing everything "properly" anyway. It wasn't just me. I just wanted to be good when really, the goals are out of reach for even the best of us.
Now I am not saying I am resentful - no - but I have to be realistic. The above is the truth - and in turn, I cannot keep working for the company. I have given them more than they could ever repay with all of the profits they could make in a hundred years. I'm not the only one. Therefore I need to cut loose.
This weekend, I did some things to help myself! And while I keep them a mystery for now, let me just say that on this rainy Monday morning, I see the sun streaming through the drops even if no-one else can. It's going to be raining all day, apparently - but my mind is clear for the first time in so long!
So here I am...I am taking off my uniform...I am letting go...if nothing else, this will all end up in an explosion of excellent painting! Like a child with a great big chocolate bar in front of it, I am very excited about the prospect of devouring this new existence I have before me...
(One thing related to a child eating chocolate is that yesterday, D ate an entire Nestle bar, ran over to his Grandmas to give her a birthday hug and a card he'd made, and ended up throwing the chocolate all back up upon entering her front door. Poor baby...one day we'll laugh about it: "Happy Birthday Grandma.....bleuuurgh..!" - and the other time with the bowl of candy at Halloween (which I wrote about last year) but for now, we'll just give him some more clothes and a cuddle!)