The dread that circles me during my daily commute brings all kinds of spellbound resistance bubbling to the surface. After a year of magical metropolis whirlwinds enfolding me throughout my soul searching New York experience, I have once again returned to Corporate America’s safety net of societal norms. I did so because my parents had run out of things to say when their counterparts inquired about me. I did so because I wanted to taste normalcy again. I did so because the weight of it all became too much. The wait became too much.
Even though I desire to rid myself of these creativity-crippling conditions, I have insisted upon reverting back to them. Perhaps it is fear of the unknown. It could also be the ease with which I find myself ushered into new cubicles that has hindered my urgency for more fulfilling endeavors. I am comfortable here. I am safe here. That is supposed to be my rationale, right?
In these spaces, I have learned a great deal about project management, creative concept conception, client services, and general business operations. The take away has remained invaluable, but I would like to be of service elsewhere. I would like to be pouring myself into an initiative that I feel strongly about. Not one that just pays me to pretend to care. Being able to employ my command of language to craft life-enhancing messaging is the ultimate ambition. This is what has prompted my corporate exodus.
This particular experience, though, has served as some kind of final straw for me. In my current position I feel myself outgrowing my writing insecurities and I want nothing more than to pen a new reality. It started with the minutest annoyances that have seemingly spiraled into unbearable daily happenings. There is an inescapable synchronicity of speech that dwells here. It is something beyond an acceptable communal jargon. The conformation is astounding! Maybe because I am now brimming with resolve in regards to my own dreams, it appears to be more potent than it has ever been before.
This language all melts into one soiled flavor and feels like melancholy in my mouth. It is as if there is no room for authentic expression. Everyone is the same, or at least they pretend to be the assumed acceptable outlined employee. I think that was the first thing, of so many to come, that irked me. I mean, it really got under my skin. Oftentimes it made me laugh to myself at how I had become drenched in all of this ridiculousness. Even casual conversation has become exasperating. I wouldn’t wish this faux dialogue on my worst enemy. That damn water cooler.
To me, it is more than just adaptation. It is that people are habitually landing on phrases that are barely grammatically correct; phrases so uniform and bland and flat out redundant in their use. It is that every single intercompany email I receive reads like a manual. They are hardly informative and overly formatted in compliance with this maddening corporate narrative that I just can’t stomach any longer. My cheeks are tired and my wit is weary. I am worn out by the misery spewing mouths on either side of my cubicle.
To add insult to injury, no one gets any of my Larry David references. This can’t be life.
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Tyesia
Blog // FAWF posts featuring Tyesia
October 17, 2014
Amazing, i feel every word like I wrote them. You know how long I have wanted to hear someonelse do a Larry d quote and catch there eyes like yes, another witty, dry humor lover open to world possibility’s has enter this dry grey building called job!