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No money in my pocket…

The job I do which comes with money, insurance, sick and vacation days-

Will Never Define Me.

If I left tomorrow, another would take my place and yesterday’s trash would hold my memory.  I work for an organization that bears no ownership from me but seeks to own me 9-5 five days a week, 52 weeks of the year.

Not my circus, not my monkeys and,

still I work.

For the pitiful salary that allows me to live paycheck to paycheck.

I work.

Twenty-three dollars of green and cream coloured paper can pay for a NYRR race so yes, I

work.

Some money is better than no money.

Before 9am I am the person who owns myself, running 4-6 miles through Ppark alleviating all the knots and kinks required for the introvert in me to go forth into the wonderful office space world where, annoying can’t be alone extroverts, rule.

After 5pm, I revert to being me, in my apartment, wearing the jammies, with the furbabies, two glasses of wine and a good book or SVU on the tube. The introvert in me welcomes my non-inclusive space.

Non-inclusive means space for me and surely not you.

Lord have mercy…

for the extroverts and their lonely selves cannot exist without the attention sucked from introverts who long for the private office the extroverts occupy.

Still I work.

Money is earned not given in my case.

I work…

not for the accolades which are reserved for those who make the most and work the least.

Work,

because it pays the endless bills left always in arrears.

Some money is better than no money so

I work and will keep working until the bills ride off into the sunset or I win mega millions and with my middle finger held high, I ride off into the sunset.

***images from the web…

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