2004-06-17 - 12:12 p.m.
2004: The Year We Lose Contact
As I rode my bike this morning, I thought about everything that’s happening—my mother’s imminent death; my impendent lay-off from my job; being jobless, moneyless, and uninsured; and generally not knowing what the future holds. Not that I ever knew, or know, what the future holds; however, the tenuousness of it—given everything that’s going on—makes it matter that much more.
That being said, I know what I don’t want to do. I’m tired of dealing with people who speak in innuendoes and insinuations. I’m tired of office bullshit, of wearing the uniform of corporate culture. I’m tired of the ass-kissing weasels, the over-paid, complacent, corpulent, figurehead VPs, and other bullshit executives whose titles give them a reason for living. I don’t want to be these people or anyone like them.
I want to do something that makes a difference—something like, I dunno, open my own business. Give jobs to people where they won’t have to wear a uniform of any kind or punch a degrading time clock. Idealistic? Yes. But complacency is fucked up.
