what’chu talkin’ ‘bout, willis?

Recently, I met a dear friend for lunch at Cooperage in the Curtis Building.  If you are ever in Philadelphia near 7^th & Walnut, make it your top priority to grab a bite to eat there.  You cannot go wrong ordering the pulled pork sandwich, mac & cheese or pork nachos –they are to-die-for.  Anyway, while my friend and I were waiting for our plates of delicious goodness to arrive, we had our “homegirl catch-up”; which is usually an update on our adorably talented kids, her husband, and any of the men I’m dating.

My homegirl and I go back ten years - we met in Rittenhouse Square through our sons who were toddlers at the time. That day, our boys decided they were going to be friends and after she and I spent a few hours together chasing after them, we both knew we would be too.  Our friendship, like most friendships, has weathered many of life’s difficulties and we genuinely love each other like sisters.  During our catch-up, my sister referred to the 43% of American’s, some like to claim, ‘do not’ pay taxes as “roaches and parasites that feed off of every hard-working American”. My first thought was, “this chick has lost her ever-lovin’ mind”.  The more she spoke, the more she sounded like she was parroting political talking points – and the more I needed a stiff drink.

Where is my food?

Her viewpoint totally caught me off guard, and the only thing I could say was, “what”. That’s it – what.  I come from a family that debated anything and everything, so I really try to respect other opinions but I was taking that insult personally.  When I shared with her that when she and I met, I was a part of that 43 per cent (not sure of that percentage ten years ago); she was stunned and ultimately embarrassed.  Truthfully, my goal was not to embarrass her, although my soul did give thanks to the Creator when she stopped talking.  

Of course, our food would come as I begin to make my point.

I wanted to share with her that someone she loved and respected needed social programs at one point, and maybe, there is someone now in her life, that is currently a part of the 43 – like maybe her housekeeper, nanny or anyone from her grounds crew – that may need social programs, even though they work full-time.

Newsflash: The working poor are just like other workin’ folk: they go to work, and get taxes taken out of their checks. The only difference is their paychecks are not making their ends meet.

I guess it is easier to vilify a number and not a face. After she knew I was on a form of state assistance, it was suddenly okay with her that that particular social program was available to Jack and me but it was not okay minutes ago in her tirade. Maybe that happens with a lot of us - we block, generalize and pushback until an issue hits home. Then we understand. My girlfriend is in a higher percentage of the 99 than I am but we are still in the 99.

I find it interesting how those that control the media and government are able to get people in the same group to turn on each other – and we don’t even realize it.

Ultimately, my sister and I found a way to enjoy the rest of our meal and a way back to enjoying each other – and I didn’t even need a drink to do it.  That’s my homegirl, I love her. 

mind phuckery

I am a writer.  Right now, I make my living writing press releases, drafting publications and writing web content that promotes “the importance of maintenance of certification (MOC)” amongst doctors. [Insert sounds of snoring] It’s not the writing I’d like to be doing but every week there’s a paycheck with my name on it – and for that I am very grateful. 

I wasn’t always a 9to5’er, at one point, I was fortunate enough to make a living in film & video production, but life took me in a different direction and after I learned that my unhealthy consumption of cheese steak hoagies and jalapeño French fries with salpeppaketchup was due to a life growing inside me - I had to make changes. I knew I had to say goodbye to the creatively unpredictable world of film & video and hello to a stable predictable 9to5.  I’ve been in the 9to5 world ever since.

No doubt about it, I am very happy with my life, it’s just – lately- I find myself missing the excitement. Oh my gosh, the rush I used to get before the first take, or the goose bumps I used to get sitting with creative kinfolk brainstorming ideas.  Hell, I even miss running around like a chicken with its head cut-off looking for missing talent - you would never know what the day would bring. Not so much there, everyday is pretty much like the day before.  Even after eleven years, for me, working in an office is still a mind phuck.

At my daily-grind, most of the copy I submit is marked up so badly, it looks like someone spilled red juice all over it, or the ideas I pitch are shot down until Boss Lady pitches the very same ones – then it’s scripture. I tell ya, if I did not have creative people in my life, I would actually begin to second-guess myself as a writer.  I observe some of the people I work with and I can see that this is their passion.  They have worked their lives trying to get here and they are happy to be here and will do anything to stay.  To each his own, I guess - my name ain’t Toby.

Sometimes, I feel like I’m in high school. Like oh my gawd, if I just conformed, I could be cool, too. If I would just write like “Joe Schmoe” down the hall, or always be upbeat like “Positive Polly” up the hall – maybe I would finally get an office with a window.  It would be so easy to compromise who I am and go with the flow, but if I teach my son to always, regardless of what the crowd says, stay true to yourself – how can I do otherwise?

Damn! Damn! Damn!  (In my best Florida Evans’ voice)  I’m a square peg, always was and always will be.

So…what’s the weather like outside?