I sit in front of the empty page and look at it patiently I know it’s somewhere, but I cannot find it right now. It is hiding from me, but I wait. I wait for that spark to come back to me, to light me up. I want to have it. I need that flame. I have to create. I want to fill my blank pages entirely with words, Page after page, line after line. The rhythm of prose and poetry will guide me, The inspiration will inspire me The imagination will give me its gift once more. But for now, I just sit here staring at the walls and My coffee in the cup is hot. Just sipping As the morning classical music is playing on the Speakers on the wall, Written by some dead people from a long time ago. This is my morning. This is the process. This is how I write, create, and get by.
This is kind of ironic to write this follow up exactly two years after my shit went South. Yeh, it’s been two years already since I was fucked really good by the system. It’s been two years since life had really tried my patience; since gods tested my nerves and everything precious for me at the time was just gone. I do still feel the pain, but it is not what it used to be back then. I am a stronger man now. I don’t give a fuck any longer.
I do like to reflect on my life looking back and analyzing what I have done, what I’ve learned, or what am I supposed to be? Just two years ago I felt like the Earth has moved under my feet; like everything I have been living and striving for all of my life just fucking collapsed. Looking back at those times today it certainly feels different. I have outgrown that. As they like to say “Whatever doesn’t’ kill you will make you stronger.” It did make me a stronger person indeed. I do think though that it is always a good practice to reflect back on the “good old days” and see how can I learn from that. I wouldn’t be a man who I am today if not for all that crap that happened to me in the past.
My shit did have some luck eventually, but it took me a while to get there. I think about life as the picks and valleys. Back then in late 2017 and 2018, there were plenty of fucking valleys in my life. Losing two corporate jobs in one year or to be more precise in just under 5 months. It has been quite a fuck-up on my end. Not everything ever depended on me necessarily. There were other things in the background. There are always other things in the way. I did sign up to be a “normal” part of society and have a real nine-to-five-job and a stable pay and the benefits. I’ve sold my soul, kind of. But, why the fuck not? After all, I have graduated from one of the top Philadelphia’s business schools to get here. I still owe a good chunk of my student loans. Somebody has to pay them off. Somebody has to feed my family, my child, and finance my unknown future.
Back in the day, I thought, I have to get a good education, I have to stay career-inspired, I have to do everything well, I have to do a good job and get recognized. I have to build my fucking career, in order to make a good living for myself and my family. These were the days when carrying a laptop around with you to classes or coffee shops was a strange new thing. These were the days with no smartphones, no apps, no SEO, no bullshit. Kids actually had to study and read the real books and write original essays and all that jazz. Having a good job after graduating from a good school was a sure thing. I could never imagine that with all that technological advancement everything will be shifting and changing so fast, that every day at your own fucking job can be the last one. As soon as all that shit gets automated and optimized for efficiency and cost savings to improve the “bottom line” there will be no need of you, regular working pal, you’re out. Nobody cares about the average man.
