Thursday, January 27, 2011
A rebel with out a cause, reason or purpose
I turned around. “Get over it.” I said to a pair of blank deer faces in my head lights of contempt. “This is just high school.” I went back to reading about tire tread and what works best in sand, mud or on the road.
In college between term papers I wrote. I wrote a lot. Show ideas where pitched to HBO and indie markets and there was interest but I couldn’t turn a dime.
Now I sit at a desk for eight hours biting my fingers to nubs and espouse random sarcasm from myself and a few other coworkers. I once had day dreams about my own cube and now it is my three gray fabric walled nightmare. I continued to write
When the money wasn’t there and the promotion after a year then two years never came I boiled over. As James Dean’s Jim Stark shouted to his parents I too wanted to shout to my boss and coworkers “You’re tearing me apart! You say one thing then he says another and everybody changes back again.” Welcome to my day job.
At the age of twenty-eight not eighteen, I was developing this dormant anxiety with no source and no outlet. Tormented everyday by not doing what I thought I would at 28.