Monday is like a punch in the face that gives you the flu. Do something your passionate about well hmmm wtf is that. If someone, anyone for that matter would share what it is I'm passionate about def be a big help. Only i don't care for the advice of others. Why would I? I'm always right according to me. Yup its true, I do love me some me. Who doesn't probably a few folks and thats ok. I love you guys too, don't worry see somebody loves you. I will never make it as a seceratery on madmen I type slowly and don't take crap from the top well. O well don't think I'm passionate enough about typing anyways. And I have opions and all these other beautiful things I'd like to share. So take a look but not to close bc who knows what you'll see. OPP remember that terrible song, yup me too. Now you know a little about me memmememememe.
The scientist peers through the microscope (the biology plow; the science sickle). She wants to give to everyone she meets. But she must complete the research task in front of her. She wants to sacrifice herself for love. But she must pay off her skill-set-debt. Skill-set-debt compels her priorities. Debt mutates her value set. The cost of education disorients the quantum particles in her frontal lobe and she is working extra hours just to afford her favorite coffee-drink. Science-minister. Materialism-seller. Oh, how she awaits her salvation. Oh, how she computes her mystery data. Her father and mother are proud of her and want her to achieve. Her step-mother and step-father want her to know they care for her, too.
Sometimes things get hijacked and diminished to the point where you have to just scratch your head and weep. You blow your horn, but the vessels don’t respond! You ring the bell, but all you get are a flock of birds blocking out the sun. This, then that?Prude penny-pinchers smirk as they collect their little coupons into a pile. All I want to do is color and draw pictures of silly things and write poetry and stories that make people smile in their brains. But all this gets hi-jacked and smoted and instead I’m dodging traffic and holding my breath every minute of every day. People are sending me “Get Well” cards and I ain’t even sick. People are writing eulogies, but I ain’t dying! I’m just hijacked and a little diminished. I’ll be alright.
Productivity gains in China were greater than expected. But not everyon is performing beyond expectations. Athletes flex their oiled pectorals and we spoil them with attention. Melodramatic actors say inspiring words and we raise them above the dingy to-and-fro. I stand my ground. I walk casually through doorways I am not allowed. My world is constantly changing. I wear sunglasses so I do not make eye-contact with any celebrity. I’m provoking power brokers and parking my car where it is not allowed. China is working hard, I am trying to work harder. Every creditor has been tapped. Every celebrity has been spoiled. I am exceeding expectations. What are you doing?
This is the thing that grinds me: I waste so much time awaiting pointless affirmations. My heart is always in a mud puddle. My thoughts are stuck. And sometimes even music doesn’t free me. But these things pass. They really do. They pass away. And I will thump and stomp again with a grin. With a mug of fun and a chin of cheer... Open the windows, someone is coming to me. Open the garage door, someone is coming. The great affirmer. The mud puller. The grin bringer. Come to me and tell me where my hope lies. Pull me from the mud and lead me to a home. I won’t resist your gentle knowledge. Just know that I am damaged product. A bruised reed. A tainted soul who hungers for wicked things and longs for pointless affirmations.