Creativity Lost. Paradise Unknown. But There’s Cup Cakes Everywhere.

I need out of this office life. This cubicle jungle. The sweet treat parade alone has made me sad, lethargic and heavy. Each day I am bombarded with simple carbohydrates as some sort of reparation for the imprisonment of my soul. Did you get a cup cake they’ll ask as my co-workers pass by my cubicle to collect their seconds or often thirds within the sweet treat parade. Please exit my diet and my life now is all I want to say in response to their sugar offering. I like making money, but not as much as I like having my sanity, my figure, my creative expression and my zest for life.

Standing at the copy machine of my mushroom-colored office, I begin to think that I’ve lost that spark of idealism that once made me a spirited young girl. I dreamt constantly of creating, saving, helping, curing, starring; however, as I make the 56Th copy of a memo I’ll never read in order to distribute to people I’ll never like, I begin to wonder if this is it.

I spend most of the time that I am in my cubicle pretending that I have an actual chance of escaping these scarce walls and paneled ceilings for longer than the 14 days that I’m allotted each calendar year. The longer I sit at my desk, the more trapped I begin to feel. I can almost feel my body recoil back toward the rounded desktop when I try to leave before my official 5’oclock dismissal. And I’m beginning to believe that my computer becomes slower and slower each work day in hopes that I’ll lobotomize myself and just go along for the ride for the next 40 or more years that I’ll have to work to make up for Reaganomics. I like tax breaks just as much as the next person, but not at the expense of my golden years. I mean who knows if I’ll even live to be 70 years old and finally get to retire. Especially now with the advent of trans-fats and Middle Eastern terrorists. Reaching 70 years old will most likely be a feat I could only achieve had I been born a Bush twin or Japanese. I, instead sit wondering if this is what my father meant when he held my 11-year old face in his hand and promised, You can be whatever you want to be.

I liked the idea of being WHATEVER I wanted to be, but now it seems so far from a reality as I continue to each day just exist in a box full of disenchantment where numbers, projections, budgets and best practices define your success in life and my only solace seem to be to have another cup cake.

Leave your cube and go toward the light…

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