8 reasons for you to quit your job and unlearn voodoo

I believe that it is imperious to tell people how to live. You can tell a friend that it might be a terrible idea to share his bank account details with a Nigerian Prince over email. But you can’t just go around, saying things like “you won’t know who you are until you travel” or “quit your job and paint the sky”. While these sound like great ideas, they may not be universally-applicable. People might end up even more clueless about themselves and more xenophobic about the world. Or exposed to toxic paint fumes.

Similarly, some people need a fully-loaded corporate environment to live as functional citizens. Without politicking over promotions, their lives just would not be complete. Without scheduled bathroom breaks, they might end up with bloated livers. If they didn’t exert superficial dominance over those they consider to be lower on some imaginary totem pole, they might do weird things to blind kittens in the privacy of their basements.

Having said that, here are 8 reasons why some people should quit their jobs and unlearn voodoo.

Wake up and taste the acid

On Monday mornings, you mistake bile acid formations for kidney stones. Gas formations for cardiac arrests. In both cases, you feel disappointed. There is neither a temporary nor a permanent solution to your problems. You joke about wanting to die because your life is uninspiring and difficult. Your punch-line is that you have life insurance.

You are the I in TEAM

You obsess over promotions so much that you bend over backwards to kiss your boss’ buttocks. You realize that it would be easier for you to pucker up while kneeling down in front of his butt-cheeks. But you are sure that your boss would appreciate the extra effort.

“But Friday, I’m in love”

Every Monday, you tell yourself that the next weekend will be special. By Saturday morning, you want to connect your laptop to the television and use your smart phone as a remote control to watch Travel and Living channel.  By Saturday evening, you consider taking a morning walk the next day. You want to smell the flowers as their petals still cradle dew splatters. You want to go into the wild. But you wake up late again. You eschew the pursuit of harmony and contentment in order to see how everyone else is pretending to live their lives. On Facebook.

A butterfly from Stockholm 

You are at peace with the fact that your company treats you like a bullied child would a butterfly. First, they tear your wings out and put you on a table. They watch you worm your way towards the very edge of the table. Just as you are on the verge of falling down, perhaps putting an end to the misery, they turn you around. They now watch you slowly and painfully moving to the other side. Eventually, out of sheer boredom, they squish you. But you need this exertion of total control. Without your company deciding how crippled or how capable you are, you won’t do anything by yourself.

Dressed to shill

Wearing casual clothes once a week is the only reason why you do not sneak in a firearm to work and blow your colleagues’ brains out. Sandals are sometimes why you do not hold the pantry hostage and make unreasonable demands. Once in a week you are allowed to feel unchained and free. Your spirits are airlifted to reckless topographies by the gay and reckless abandon of sporting a bright red T-shirt with matching shoes to boot. On Monday, you start sketching badly again. You know that nuclear warhead missiles are supposed to be pointy and that one trillion dollars would suffice for your lifetime. Everything else is just a matter of timing.

Voodoo is no laughing matter: Part 1

You google “how+to+place+voodoo+on+someone” and then clear out the search results from your browsing history. Later, you mumble to yourself, while clutching a raggedy doll with burn marks for eyes and ketchup stains for lips, “at least I have a new friend“.

Voodoo is no laughing matter: Part 2

Your new friend starts talking to you. She reckons that now would be a good time for you to kill every blind kitten in your neighborhood. Or alternatively, to find abandoned kittens with their vision intact and jab them in the eyes with a sharp stick. And then, kill them.

For the first 30 years of my life, I had mistaken Barn Owls for mysterious albino fruit bats that never existed. I never realized that those pale and ghostly apparitions flying across my city’s night skies were in fact magnificent predatory birds. I have since spotted 4 more species of owls (Spotted Owlet, Jungle Owlet, Brown Fish Owl, Indian Eagle Owl). I think the Jungle Owlet oddly felt more special than the others. I could have easily mistaken him for a Sunday morning cartoon clip if i didn’t know a little about birds.