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Sunday, April 17, 2016

The Office


A soft light blue filter covers the office room, making the floors beneath your feet thin, and the newly painted four walls run for miles.  Overcast outside covers the morning sun, as rain drops beg to be let inside the third story office window that looks over the parking lot of swooshing tires splicing through puddles, while beeping cars lock and clicking of heels walk.  Closer and closer to the meeting they gather, as you sit hiding the chalk stains from earlier.  Black suits and grey suits busy as can be, paperwork shuffles as empty styrofoam cups make their way to the coffee maker, as if butter to bread, or an alien ship to a forgotten about forest.  You smile without smiling, as everyone lines up like kittens in a milking for their coffee.  Small talk about golf and cars, finances and new pools, some about their kids, mostly about business dinners and more about backyard pools. You have been up since four, while your fourth cup of coffee sits calmly on the long oak wood table staring back at you, as if the lightly gold trimmed styrofoam cup is pressuring you into standing up and throwing your briefcase against the rain drop window while walking out softly yelling, "fuck this". But you take another sip of the coffee to gulp down these emotions before acting upon such ambitions.  The chalk under your fingernails fidgets with the now chalk stained cup, clicking back and forth like a baby drinking milk while watching cartoons in the morning.  Your eyes bounce around the room as if someone just violently drew the black pillowcase from over your head and asked, "Where is the fucken money!?" You lean down to grab your files out from your briefcase that your father got you many years ago while in school, why you still use it in the professional field, you don't know. Maybe it has to do with comfort and where you started, a fatherly reminder of hard work and simple commitment to your family of four, one wife, two kids, and I guess if you count the four dogs that is... well, one big family to support.

You realize while leaned over your right knee under the table, while the others above still laugh and chat over spilled coffee and shuffling paper, that you were still wearing your Weightlifting socks from this morning.  You smile at the blood that once drew from your shin that is now splattered on your socks, as if you were nailed to the table covered in paper cups, folders, and pins. Picking your head back up above land, everything seems slightly brighter like the sun slowly rising when training in your garage.  No sunlight of course that early when all are asleep, and matts the weights land on make for the whole family staying asleep, mostly just a light blue filter from the once black night now makes for your Rogue weight set feel warmer and you continue to fight. Up and down you lift the weight, while all are asleep, sound and safe.  You are getting stronger for once your family awakes, you can protect and provide day in and day out.  You lift to lift others, and you pull to pull from others.  A community of thousands undercover.  Under garage roofs and behind office windows, behind teacher's desks and Police shields.  In and out of office meetings, we are traveling beings,  calculating accountants, fire fighting machines.  Football coaches, child watch day care providers, to waitresses, to train conductors connected from coast to coast we are out there, you can't see us, but we are.  If you look closely you can see the chalk from our buckets, and the blood from our bar.  You can see the callused hands we lift with and the motivations and drive that we are.  We are made out of iron and act upon this 9 to 5 life, with high bars and early mornings that separate us from the "normal life".  We are gym rats in disguise, hidden amongst the cracks of life.

The meeting got started, and the bullshit began.  Whose boat is bigger than whose, the golf trips and pools.  Laughs filled the room as the month reports get passed around too soon.  Another week gearing up for another month, the same political standards tied in with the same drinks, and ass kissing disasters.  A lifestyle this is, lonely hotel rooms and empty cubical spaces, filled aloud with ringing phones and long lunch breaks and plastic surgery faces.  Only left with a check at the end of the day, one that provides you and your family to live happy and free. Your eyes glaze over as your head turns around, leaving your chest facing forward, while your feet stay planted to the ground.  The slow turn making your leather seat creek and scream, while folders still get tossed around while pins begin to thud against note pads and clicks and clacks light up computer screens.  You look outside the sad rain drops who only wish to be inside, while you only wish to be out.  Your chin drops, and your eyes watch as your hands glide down your midnight blue tie.  A midnight thought has entered this early mid morning.  "What if I could achieve the same financial structure while doing what I love?" You say in a whisper so loud, that even your business partner next to you gave you an elbow shove to quiet down.  You stand up, look around the room as if the teacher randomly called upon you.  Your coffee in your hand, and your father's briefcase tucked up in front of you....

You then.......

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