Broke palace ethics

This place is nonconducive to the joy of spaceflight
Joy in specific is absent
Also motivation beyond pay
Basically what we call rewarding work
Is a step beyond what we have
Instead settling for pay and the hope of vacation to places we can’t afford to love
Vacation spending always outshines daily and that means we get to live in a higher tax bracket where money doesn’t matter only joy
It’s no wonder we love those days away which come carefree because the bill sits on the horizon rather than paid in full
Living in the moment and without care
How could we not conflate place with joy when it’s really the luxury of not needing to worry which makes it all better
If we could live as we choose doing work we love
Work that challenges but also drives
If we felt seen and cared for
We might not feel so trapped
If life didn’t cost so much to sustain
We might live a life more enduring
Instead of scramble
Instead of the slow bleed

The flensing knife turns inward

I’ve been creatively burnt out for the last few weeks. It’s not entirely anything to do with the big things like work or relationships. It’s the little things that I have let eat away at my free time. Leaving me with no time to sit and be. No time to experience the world as time slips away.

Being so busy that any time…and here I have to stop and redirect because work crept in. Because it’s gotten to be insidious. It slips into any crack which if I turn it off, it becomes that I was unreachable and that is the issue.

Which is why I am writing this at 4am.

In alot of ways work is better, my relationship is better but my friendships and my writing and my actual life seems to have all suffered.

I have never been one to strike a balance. I throw myself completely into things. And that passion sees me through but it also breaks me.

It’s the inevitable, inexorable schism between what is needful and what is best. And much as I thrive in the situation where the world is burning and every action I make can turn the rudder, eventually…the boat sinks and the drowning begins.

And I am oh so weary of dying by inches in that way.
Something has to happen. And I don’t know if I have the mental fortitude to make the life choices required.

It seems like I was so much happier when I was a villain. But maybe it was just that I was young and didn’t see the terminus. The inevitability of less ahead than behind.

Pounding heart shakes the leaf

Kiss me sleeping
Breathe dry
Heat and blinking
Insomnia and anxiety team up
Hope watching you sleep isn’t creepy
Too tired to close my eyes
Dreading the coming day
Freight train approaches
Standing on the tracks
No certainty but uncertainty
Looking towards that future
That horizon
Wondering what’s next
A fish out of water
In a new pond
I’ll flourish
But too much
Becomes toxic shock
And no one notices until you’re gone
Seeing what happens
When the air gets thin
Wondering
If a new lake will make things better
Wondering
And sitting here awake
Too tired for dreaming
Hoping to see
To real-ize a future
Where being stuck won’t pass for
Stability

The ritual of waking

The day begins in reluctance
In putting out of the mind all the things
All the things outside of control
And choose breakfast
My kind of breakfast
Crunchy peanut butter and Strawberry Jam on molasses toast
Downing water
Reading a book
Anything to not think about
Not take the next step
Because then it begins
The shower and the dressing
The shoes I never wear except in the public world
Drawing down my war personality
Pieces of me shutting off
Transition to a darker mien
Each step taking me from where I prefer
From safety
From the place where I grow
To the place where I am diminished
Because, in this world, what I am and what I do
Does not pay for food
For space to breathe
For shelter
Instead I subject myself to the whims of others
Without agency
Without choice except to live in poverty
It’s worse now
Before I was given responsibility
Before I was given trust
And before it was all taken away
Every day it gets worse
Every day I learn more
Maybe enough to leave
But
I’m just procrastinating
That first step to begin the day
To all of us in that same position
Declaiming, in lament, It is what it is
Remember
It is not
Will be
We still have choices
Even if we can’t yet see their horizons

Forced backwards

uncertain fuels the breakdown
butchered goals at the whims of others
chances risked pay out gold
that fades with the dawn
pulled back
skin no longer inured
heart no longer fatalistic
no longer adapted to the caustic environment
Instead
burn
as if the time never was
lost in the false storms
at the mercy
of the merciless

Two first names

Uncertainty draws vital fluid
A spinal tap of the will
Captured in the maze
No way out without a compass
No guides or guidance
A vision of pure ego
Without the strength
To stay the course

Flitting from idea to idea
No follow through
Ambition but no logic

Give a person tools
Watch them build or fall
Run or sprawl
Instead of this empty fog

A cutout that knows they are a cutout
Not a smart move
Par for the course

Working

I used to wake up and be excited to go to work. I know, insane right? But it’s true. I used to get up and go to work and I’d solve problems and help people all day. I’d come home tired but happy. The work was always varied and, more importantly, I had the tools and access needed to actually fix things. And, if I couldn’t fix something, there was a team of professionals who had a deeper understanding of the systems who could solve it. At most, it would be a few days. We knew each other and respected each other. Our lives intermingled and we knew each other.

A few years later the group split to better dedicate to specific, complex, and separate projects. I had worked both sides and was working on the complex side because I prefer complexity. Still interesting to go to work but I had little interaction with the professionals with the deeper access. Rifts and rivalries began to form.

A few years go by and it’s decided that what’s needed is a middle team who will work with both teams and bridge the gap. Still ok as I personally knew the people there. They had come from my team. But others did not have the same experience and the gaps were beginning to show. It grew to us vs them. And that’s never a good thing, when all are supposed to be serving the same ends.

A few years later and all of those small personal teams are merged under a shiny new department. And that department is headed by? An outsider who knows no one and regards people as numbers and cogs and has no idea how the company and its services function. You’d think he’d learn and adapt his style to suit the existing environment. Meld two into a more cohesive whole. No. Instead he begins to implement policy that imposes his structure on the existing one. And each step he carries it forward is another step that twists the original teams away from capably serving the companies customers. Treating those customers like a given input rather than a fickle variable.

A few short years later and my boss. A hardworking, caring, professional, and personable man is forced out of his position and moved to a window office. Watching the world go by with no power in preparation of forcing him to retirement. I’d seen exactly this before. This is what the company does to competent troublemakers who have the foresight to tell people that their idea isn’t going to work.

And who should appear but the micromanaging numbers guy. The guy who knows what asses to kiss. The guy who’s all smiles while he’s stabbing you in the back.

And he proceeds to do the same twisting of the section I work for that he did with the other one. And by this time, we have multiple systems that are breaking due to neglect and a new system that was created by people who don’t understand what they were creating or who would be using it or, really, how one complex piece needs to interact with these 10 other complex pieces.

So it’s a shit show. And not the fun kind(if you like that kind of thing). I still like my job. When I’m allowed to do it. But now there’s layers and layers of bullshit to wade through and even then, a simple fix to one table variable can take a week because there is this ignorant bureaucracy between what is needed and what is happening and the ones doing the fixing have never actually used the system. It’s like trying to fix a car when you only work on boats. There is some crossover but not much.

So I wake up and I think, I don’t want to go to work. But, I’m high level by now in a specialized field. I’d have to completely start over. And I’m not sure I want to do that. Or even how to.

Worksheet: the path to letting go

You want that boy and not me. He’s attractive in a bland way. Thin, unlike myself. Though our weights are going in opposite directions, perhaps I’ll wave when we pass each other by. He’s easy with a slimy smile, something soft and malleable in him. He manipulates and doesn’t stay.  He’s hedonistic without the learned restraint. Dangerous in a BDSM setting because as a top he’d look to his pleasure first. Put his needs above his submissive. Though I doubt he’d have the discipline for the life. Probably just calls it rough sex, so he can take without giving. He is my opposite in most ways. Easy where I am difficult. Smiles where I am sardonic grins. Smiles that never quite reach his eyes. Where my eyes are mostly how I smile. Shallow waters where I am deep lake with a thermal vent river. He’s a pretty plaything. A bauble picked up then discarded. But I sense he is the type to hit when not wanted; to take when not offered. I would wish I could protect you but you’ve made your choice. I cannot intervene now unless you ask for my help.

He’s not even an adequate lover, you told me about him before we fell apart. Soft when he should be hard, cums one time to your zero times. Pretty, shallow and useless. Insists on no condom. Dirtbag and you went right for him.

I was never that guy. Accomplished by 24, in skills I don’t use anymore admittedly, dating older not younger at that age. I was never easy, never thin either. Alot of muscle but alot of fat too. But tall with wide shoulders. A thinker and a planner. A knight of dark renown. Honor and all that with a bad boy rep. Careful until the moment then I’d dive head first into the deeps. Sexually inexperienced but not virginal. Kegels since I was 12, fine pelvic and ejaculate control resulting. Yes, Kegels are not just for women. Tongue workouts since I was 18. When you like going down as much as I do, you want to make sure you can go as long as your desire dictates. Morgan had some good clay to work with. Pain was already something I liked when we met. She refined my palate and allowed me to grow.

If that boy is what she wants, then I was never right for her. He’s bland milk chocolate. I’m artisan cacoa, seventy percent.