Hulking

I never formally acknowledged the changes I've been noticing. Formally, as in written. Partially because if anything is to be written, it will be during the day. My already greasy mind is too lucid for nighttime exposure, so some things have to wait until, lets say now & other early nows. Creative types seem to be going through violent transitions lately. Wilding out. Flexing. Hulking. It makes me wonder, when a flower explodes from a seed pod, is it an escape or was it forced out? The shell is destroyed, then the ground is broken at the surface. Actors, musicians, writers, everywhere, all have been shattering or rejected by their havens. Nobody said change was always going to be easy, and some have been rough transitions. I can think of three examples who decidedly abandoned their craft, & have now returned full circle. Is it an early spring? I did see birds flying north the other day, and my buds are growing. Seed what I'm saying? Others sensitive to such have agreed. So it was written.

Work

I had the worst day at work today, during which I heard the lyrics "doing the work of lesser men." Afterwards I was planning on going to the movies with my sister, but we decided against it because it doesn't let out until 2am, & we both work in the AM. I told her I was ready for another job, & she called it progress. Where is the progression in changing plantations? Earlier I considered writing for a future reader's sake. I assume that reader, like me, will be curious about the details of day to day living, in addition to a larger historical context. Never did I consider writing about work. Time spent at work is not considered daily life, nor life at all, though we are there daily. Work is what you do for a living, it is not the living. Or is it? Work for me is an obligatory task taking up a chunk of my day, but others seem to struggle separating themselves from their jobs. My generation is past the era of lifetime employment, a fact I credit my just-a-job-attitude to. Plus, if you're curious about what people and life was like in the past, you want to know how they spent their living, not the details of making it. Life is sausage. Placing too much value on work disturbs me, something I wish to be clear for future generations. Work is a means to make money: money is the goal. Place too much value on work, and how much higher is its goal, money? Would you go to work if they just gave you the money regardless? Is money more important than family? Friends? The one you love? I can name TV shows more important than work. If you have someone to complain about work to, that person is more important than work. Work is replaceable, people are not. We need to value each other more than the value of currency. That should be basic, but some people here that and immediately list reasons why work is important. Same universe, different galaxies. Anyway, work sucked today. I also need money, which I loath having to put my focus on. Ooh, irony: to money zealots, I'm here temporarily and for one reason, I'm the mercenary.