I’m spreading my wings.

My job is becoming a nightmare that I can’t seem to wake up from. I lay in the bed I once begged for, desperately tossing and turning, sweating and shaking, grinding my teeth… I need someone to come and shake the shit out of me until I sit up, wide eyed gasping for breath.

It isn’t that I mind working, per se. What I do isn’t work. It’s stress. Basically, I feel like I’m in a constant struggle with every customer, every boss….every thought. Making a deal with the devil couldn’t be much more to deal with than trying to take a measly fucking week’s vacation. I’ve probably mentioned my upcoming vacation on this very forum before. That’s tough shit for you, dear reader. I’m going to complain a little more. I’m spending the hottest week of the goddam summer on the roof of my house, replacing rotten decking, and nailing down new shingles to the top of it. I should have a few more days of vacation left after next week. I believe I will spend that portion of my dear vacation installing windows in the house.

I was thinking back to my childhood days today. Thinking back, I can remember some really low times as a kid…times I honestly would have rather died than live; or rather, didn’t really care either way. Those were times, ashamedly, I have to admit aren’t so different than the times I’m living in now. The only difference is that when I was young I had a 40 acre field, full of cow shit, with a pond stocked with catfish and bluegill. Fishing was a daily event. Bait? That’s what grasshoppers were for. My god, those were good times. I could fish the depression away, it seemed. I spent the first 12-13 years of my life barefooted. I can remember RUNNING up and down the dirt road I lived on, completely shoe less.
I’m leaving, boys and girls. I’m going to go and see exactly what I’m about. I’m going to find out what I’m really made of.

One of my bosses is a very intellectual man. He has no college degree. He’s a 55-ish year old black man that stands about 5’6”. When you talk to him, you’d swear he was 6’6” and 350 pounds. He is very intimidating, to say the least. Luckily, I haven’t had to talk to him recently. He pretty much makes it known that his goal in life is to get the most out of people and help as many people as possible. If you ask him for help, though, don’t guess for a second if you’re going to get it or not. He pushes and pressures the shit out of you. The man is an “early riser”. He’ll stay up till 3 am taking shots of tequila, and he’s up at 5 am or so reading the paper, a book, or working out. The last conversation I had with this man honestly made me do some soul searching. We sat at a nice bar in the lobby of a nice hotel. He asked me “Beans, what are you about?” What am I about? I honestly don’t know. I asked for some clarity. “What are you about, sir”, I asked. He proceeded to tell me he was about helping people. Of course; this man drives a very nice car, which costs probably in the range of $175K, and lives in a $2-$3 million house. “I don’t know, sir. I really don’t know WHAT I’m about, sir”, I admitted; feeling silly for “not knowing what I’m about”. He asked me why I live in the particular state I live in. “I was born there, sir”, I told him. He chuckled and asked, “Is that where you want to live?” I explained that my family was there, and I liked it fine. The next two questions pretty much stunned me. 1.) “Where would you live if you could?” I told him I’d live somewhere in the Caribbean, if I really had my ‘druthers. 2.) “Why don’t you live there?” was the next question. I wasn’t shocked yet. I told him that I obviously couldn’t afford to live there and couldn’t make a living there if I were to take the chance. “Are you telling me you couldn’t get a job as a doorman or a bartender, and live in an apartment? You understand that you choose where you live, don’t you”, he continued to probe. As mad as he will be when I quit, because of the time, effort and money put into training me; it’s his fault I’m leaving. He’s the one that opened the door of my cage. I’m standing in the doorway of the cage, and I’m getting ready to see what these feather-covered wings were made for. I may crash and burn, but I’ll never know until I start flapping.

It’s almost as if I never noticed that there was a sky before. My God! Look at the blue freaking sky. There’s so few actually using their wings.

I ask you, dear reader; Why do you live where you do? If you’re happy, then I’m happy for you. If you’ve got family depending on you, then I respect you. If you’re just treading water, stuck in a high paying job that you hate; fucking quit that shit. I’ll meet you in the clouds.

Happy Thursday!

-Beans™

“Spread love everywhere you go. Let no one ever come to you without leaving happier.”

I wrote a blog on another website. The rules of that website require that the material hasn’t been posted anywhere else on the internet. That website also pays a little bit of money for the number of reads you get and how many people like your writing. I will post a link as soon as it has been approved. It has some serious updates on my life (without the cursing).

If you want to read about it, check in tomorrow.

Thanks,

Beans™

PS…you can tell I’m not one of the ones MJ was talking about in the last blog, although my anxiety is through the roof. Sorry to shoot your hypothesis all to pieces, MJ. —————————————————————–

Without further ado:

http://www.authspot.com/Journals/Spread-Love-Everywhere-You-Go-Let-No-One-Ever-Come-to-You-Without-Leaving-Happier.172587

“Run your fingers through my soul. For once, just once, feel exactly what I feel, believe what I believe, perceive as I perceive, look, experience, examine, and for once; just once, understand.”

If you didn’t like the quote that’s the title of the post, here’s another: “Anyone can give up, it’s the easiest thing in the world to do. But to hold it together when everyone else would understand if you fell apart, that’s true strength.”

So what? Fuck it. I don’t have true strength. I admit it. And don’t start thinking I’m emo. I’d never color my hair black. Go ahead. Read my babbling and laugh. It’s funny.

This morning I woke up

Because that’s what you’re supposed to do.

I didn’t want to

I didn’t care if I ever opened my eyes again.

I can’t get the darkness out

Even in the middle of the desert

My mind is still black as death

Reeling, winding, spinning behind my eyes

The days of sickening blackness

Are like the peeling of an onion

They’re so thin on the outer part

As I get toward the middle, there’s more substance and stench

I need to get away from me

As irritable as I am

Nobody can annoy me like I can

I have to find my soul

How does someone’s soul escape?

Does it sneak from their ear on a Q tip?

Maybe it just bails out, during a drunken fury

It could have left because I consciously told it to go

It could be that my soul is still here

I wonder if I’ve overlooked it

Could my soul could be so seared

That the calluses have made it transparent?

I wonder if the “set it free” analogy works,

If I let it go and it doesn’t return

Was it not meant to be?

I’m not searching anymore, regardless

It can come find me.