Wednesday, July 20, 2011


How to not be it:
After he watched me for a while, he started calling me “Ox.” I don’t think this was meant as a compliment; or maybe it was. I think he was seeing somebody who was hellbent on pulling the plow through the field. Because that was what I was doing. I did that for a year and a half. Eventually, something else happened, and I quit that job. But when I had that job, I would drive home around 1 AM or so, and I would park my car, and I was so frustrated, and humiliated, and overwhelmed by what my life had become that I would just sit in the car and weep. After I got downsized, I remembered that time. I didn’t want to go back to that. I picked up the plow.