Tag: dayjob

My Cross To Bear.

February 19th, 2018

When you see this face, what profession do you see in the mug and behind the eyes?

Grease monkey at McDonald’s? Water slinger at an H2o company? Courier? Landscaper? Child care worker? Uniform and mat delivery guy? Airplane baggage handler? Grocery store management? Janitor?

Theoretically, yes, whoever the person in the picture, they could be capable of doing or being any of those titles. Maybe they’ve attempted all and more. But the question remains.. do you see (and equally important does he see) him as one of those?

Cat out of the bag, that’s a picture of yours truly. Truly. From today. And I can attest that I have held all those positions and actually more. None of them spoke to me. None of them were me.

The argument can be made that the vast majority of people hate their day job and therefore I need to be grateful to have one and put my head down and suck it up. Yes, I do enjoy eating and having a home etc but I also want to realize and actualize the main reason I am put on this earth and as of yet, I have not done that.

I’ve been hungrily writing for the past four years or so and have since the birth of this seen myself as a writer. I’m a firm believer in where your heart is, then that is who you are. But going even deeper into who I am, there was always one thing that spoke to me the most. One thing I could identify with. One thing I could lose myself in, no matter how many times exposed to it. And that, my friends, is metal.

To clarify, I’m not into working with sheet metal or wielding. Some of those metals are indeed heavy but the heavy metal I refer to is loud, pounding, thrashy music.

There was a period in my adult life where I somewhat left it behind. A person’s musical tastes are of course allowed to be vast and one would say I mellowed out, for a brief time anyway. The death metal especially. But only to rear its head once again in remembrance that besides my calling to Christ and my calling to parent three children, metal was and always will be my audio playground.

This is the time for a resurgence. The world is overpopulated with garbage flavored crap pop music and it’s taking over the entire next generation. Since birth, I’ve raised my kids on trips to the mall with Metallica blasting or a road trip to an amusement park with Fear Factory rumbling on the speakers. Yet what are my kids into by choice?? The Weeknd, Taylor Swift and Justin Bieber. I’m aghast.

The world yearns for the rebirth of metal and dangit, mine wants to be the face of it. Don’t believe me, just watch.
Slave To The Grind.

July 4th, 2017

Today is a new day.

I’m an open book, all puns intended. I have openly written about my drinking, excessive weight gain, my marriage (or now lack there of), my hopes and dreams etc so I’m not about to stop now.

I’ve seen my share of day jobs and for the most part relatively short versions of. Sure, this day and age is far from the era of my dad being at his job for, I don’t know, thirty some odd years. These days the average is twelve to fifteen different jobs or careers and I’ve no doubt matched or exceeded that number. And just a spring chicken at forty one!

Often times I’ve moved, therefore forcing me to walk away from a job, long term or not. The longest career I was involved with was working with children for, including a year of schooling, around the seven year mark. My heart began to leave the field as my own children grew and so I walked away. Before and after, the list is lengthy: janitorial, McDonald’s, gas station, airport ramp agent, landscaping, couriering, writing (though yet to be paid or published!), hard wood flooring, grocery and even I’m falling asleep listing these let alone you poor soul reading it! My apologies.

I’ve been in funks and excess tiredness where I’ve regrettably left a job, knowing I’d find a new one and minus two bouts of time where the Pickens was slim, I’ve managed to stay afloat. Embarrassingly yet luckily my mother has come to her adult son’s time of need on more than one occasion to help me back on my feet. This is a reminder to me that my children too will never, in one way or another, stop needing me and that is an awesome notion.

Nobody wants to go to work. The lucky few that have that dream job, the one connected to their passion, do exist and this is what I yearn for with my writing. Needs to be seen! Needs to breathe! And I know that until that happens I will struggle in whatever I am doing as a day job.

Things are looking up. The gig I’m currently a month into is so my thing, besides putting pen to paper. The ability to provide for ones family should never be taken for granted or uncared for. I am called to give my children stability (plus I really like eating so it’s a win-win).

Alas, the long weekend is mere hours from being over and there is much to do these next few days. I am a slave to the grind but I can’t have it any other way. Yet.

Tag: dayjob

My Cross To Bear.

Slave To The Grind.