I'd rather know that something is wrong and be told than to let it continue to go on to have the shit hit the fan now rather than later, but I feel my internal organs shudder when I get the impersonal communication devoid of context and enforcing a suffocating conformity to a norm that makes next to no sense outside of boardrooms and in motivational books.
I will smile and nod and say yes of course you're right, I laugh too much I smile too much, I'm too fucking human. I don't buy into this, but I'll pretend to because I need to eat.
But in reality I will say what I need to say, and not so much for cowardice as survival. I will try not to cry. I'm feeling resentful and not so much ashamed as understanding that the language that we speak is different than the language of those in power, that they will never understand us, and that we don't want to lose our souls to be them.
At least I have Kristin to cathartically rock out to in the car on the way home.
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4 comments:
Oh, acting coaches, what's my motivation? But what is the ness of serious?
Sprechen sie douchebag? Nein, ich lerne douchebag.
sorry that you're having one of those life under management days, hope the private expressions of sanity help and that the powers that be find something productive, not to say human(e), to do with themselves.
Randal,
your Corporate Man and Corporate Woman and a-wandering the city made my day much better.
dmf,
I know I do good work, and I know that God sees it even if the overlords don't, and I'm glad I haven't built my life on trying to please them.
And I can pound my excess frustration out onto clay tonight and make something beautiful. Life goes on. I'll just learn to be more circumspect in my mirth.
How about pounding that clay into, not death, but corporate masks?
No, there would be laughing, then micromanagers would brandish torches & pitchforks.
On the other hand, there's still probably an ample supply of asbestos in the basement.
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