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 |  It’s basically my brain vomiting through my fingertips. Bring a poncho. Splash zone… |
| I’m the kind of guy we all look at and unintentionally describe as “Oh, bless his heart”… |
"30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS"  by Fivesixer  prompt:Do you love your job/career? Tell us why you love it, and why did you choose this career and not something else. This is horrible, but I hate my job. I’m a third part owner of an alternative medicine store where we…dispense, if you will…pain-relieving herbal-based medicines. We were the first to open in our town in Oklahoma, and I can still remember how excited I was to research and learn, to pass this knowledge on to others so they could maybe figure out for themselves what they need. But that’s not how it’s worked out. It’s turned into something ugly, something where everybody believes they deserve every discount just for the honor of their business (not completely unfounded, I guess). It’s become an industry of looking for “what can I get for free”, illegal profits, vague laws nobody enforces…it’s the wild west. Boomer Sooner, I guess. It’s also more difficult to work with spousal equivalents than I thought. I’ve always been good at all jobs, but this one…this one presses me like no other. I don’t think I’d necessarily recommend it. But I don’t know what I’d want to do otherwise unless it was an aspect of storytelling. At this point in what I’ve learned from The Universe concerning writing, I’m pretty sure the one thing that drives man is the story…the past, or maybe what people are doing now, or what we hope to see in the future…we talk to our friends because we want to know how they see the world, their version of your story. And it’s always been this way. We’ve always been on the hunt for the next story, no matter what avenue we take to get there. Maybe I wouldn’t appreciate writing so much if it was a job to me. Maybe that’s just how I am. To be fair, I’m in the middle of an identity crisis right now. It may seem dramatic, but right now, right here, it’s so real. The philosophies I built in my twenties didn’t work in my thirties, and what has made it through doesn’t work now…I’m not complaining, just explaining. I’m working my way to a point of finding myself, both as a person and as a writer. And I can see it, just over there, the person I’m supposed to crawl into and be. Home. |
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