A new month, a fresh start, and we’re into MyXXFLY phase two! But don’t worry, phase two isn’t some sort of post-apocalyptic universe in a science fiction film where monsters have taken over civilization and are harvesting human organs for fuel. Phase two is the next 20 weeks of our blog. A reset button so to speak. With every 20 posts, we’ve decided to reevaluate MyXXFLY, see what direction to take it in, see if it’s still a fulfilling part of the bigger picture we call life. So we’ve given ourselves the green light. i.e. phase two. Welcome.
Today we’re in a work-appropriate outfit talking about work in all of its incarnations. The kind that pays the bills, the thankless kind, the good, the bad, and the ugly. Work is defined as: activity involving mental or physical effort done in order to achieve a purpose or result. That’s why blow-jobs are “jobs” right? Well, like many young adults making their way in the world I’ve felt the frustration that comes from “work”. A job you don’t like, a boss you can’t stand, the existential crisis that comes after years of toiling when the appex of “THERE MUST BE MORE TO LIFE THAN THIS” hits. The Strokes have sung about the ennui of it, Rihanna has dutty whined to it, and after years of work, I’ve got my own song and dance on the topic.
We drove out to Homestead, to use their lovely City Hall as the backdrop for our discussion. City Halls are the nucleus of government work, where issues are brought up, discussed, and (hopefully) solved. This spot was scouted by none other than my mom, Auxiliadora. You see, just across the street from City Hall is the best ice cream spot in Homestead: La Michoacana. It is an authentic Mexican heladeria, that specializes in freshly made all-natural ice cream and popsicles in as many flavors as you can imagine. From classic vanilla to their popular nancite, if it’s a fruit or an extract, they probably offer it. The prices are great, their products are delicious, and on her first trip there, my mother saw Homestead City Hall and immediately called me, “Yesenita, encontre un lugar bello para que tomes fotos”, she’d found the perfect shooting spot. And although I’ve been known to be a malcriada from time to time, what momma says ultimately goes, and so here we are.
Whether you work a nine to five in a corporate downtown office, or one to nine scooping ice cream into waffle cones, for the majority of people the mere mention of work is a guttural groan from the belly of the beast himself. It’s the resentment you feel on a Monday morning after a long weekend, it’s the slow crawl of the seconds hand when you’re waiting to punch out. Work is the fucking worst, right? Well, wait a minute.
See, I’ve had jobs I’ve hated, and jobs I’ve loved. Work isn’t without its own slew of problems. Sometimes you’re understaffed and expected to do the work of three people for the same pay. Other times you’re undervalued and feel taken advantage of. Sometimes you just feel inherently unfulfilled. I hear you loud and clear. A spike in pay, supportive coworkers, a schedule you can live with, all of these factors will definitely affect your happiness on the job. Ultimately however, if you hate your job, I hate to break it to you, the problem isn’t the job, it’s you.
Oh shit, alienating your audience Yesenia. Tough love baby. Look, you may be 100% right. You might be getting fucked. In a market that is overly competitive and can egregiously low-ball you for your skills within an establishment that puts corporations before people, it’s easy to get frustrated and even depressed at the idea of being another hamster in a wheel. In some East Asian countries, the phenomenon of people literally working themselves to death is a real part of everyday life. While the system is flawed, and has been in desperate need of reform for the entirety of my life, and surely way before then, there is one glaring often missed remedy. Perspective.
Let’s go back to our definition: activity involving mental or physical effort done in order to achieve a purpose or result. We, workers of the world, focus on the first half of this definition. The half defining the sweat on your brow, the stress, the anguish, while glazing over the latter half; the purpose and result. What is your purpose? Why are you working? If the only draw of your job is that it pays your bills, you’re doing “work” wrong. You’re setting yourself up for failure. You’ll always be dissatisfied. When you find the purpose behind the toil, and care about the result, work will start to feel a little less grim.
What the fuck Yesenia? Aren’t you all anti-establishment? Now you’re telling me to be a happy little worker bee? Don’t get me wrong kid, changing your perspective doesn’t mean you have to be invested in reaching whatever over-inflated “fiscal projection” Bed Bath and Beyond has set for your store. It means finding your purpose, and your result. Time is your currency, and every moment of your life is an opportunity to learn and grow, or to gripe and be miserable. Now, what if you have to keep some shitty job, for a company you could give three fucks about, because you have a family and responsibilities, and bills man? Well, my darling friend, realize, that you don’t have to. Changing your situation, your job, and life, is always in your power if you are so inclined. But guess what? It takes work.
Now, I’m not going to tell you “do something you love and you’ll never work a day in your life”. You’ve heard it before. In one ear, out the other. Also, I think it’s bullshit. Why? Because even when you do something you love, it’s always work. It’s not as tedious, it’s more personally fulfilling, you may not loathe it, but work is still work. So why are you the problem? Because you’re expecting work to be easy. You’re expecting work not to be work.
Years ago, during one of my emotional, stress-related, work-induced, frustrated, freak-outs, my dad (the oracle) gave me a piece of advice that changed my perspective on work forever. “Yesenita” he said “la vida es del trabajador”, or “life, is for the worker”. What the fuck does that mean Pa? Simply put, life, is a constant state of work. By the sheer fact that we are living, breathing, sacks of animated skin and bone, we “work”. Our bodies are constantly working to keep us alive, and our brains are constantly working to record and process our experiences. When we stop “working”, we die.
That shit hit me like a fucking bus.
Of course life is work. What other purpose do we have as a soul in a flesh prison if not to live a life of exploration, understanding, to seek knowledge, and to fucking work? The best things in life are work. Cooking your favorite meal for a dinner party, dancing the night away at a wedding, having sex with someone who pushes all the right buttons, hiking for hours and conquering a mountain top. Work, work, work, work, work, and it’s marvelous isn’t it? Individually, these things are exhausting, but together? They all add up to some sort of magical and fulfilling life.
So while you may enjoy your weekends with all the fire and enthusiasm you can muster, and dread the weekday with the gloom and doom of a 14 year old scene kid. Remember, time marches on, whether you enjoy it or you don’t. Find the joy in today, find the fruits in your labor, make connections with the people who cross your path, make the best of bad situations. If you’re getting the shit end of the stick, drop the fucking stick. Life is fleeting, and the moments you’re waiting for something else to happen are moments you will never get back. So don’t hate your job, and don’t hate work. Find the gem within the struggle, and if you’re stuck in a hopeless situation, work on finding a place that values your talents and time, or make it yourself. So tell me, how do you get through it all? How do you feel about work. Share your thoughts in the comments and whether it’s your work day or your time off, always keep your double-x fly. See you next week!
