Coke Talk*

Coke Talk of the Day

March kicked my ass.

In the artificially sweetened language of soulless corporatism, my company went through a major restructuring due to shifting trends within the industry that dramatically impacted the state of my career.

I survived it. Technically.

I still have the same desk, but I don’t know why I’m sitting behind it anymore. On one hand, it’s nice to know I’ve got the salt to handle this level of occupational fuckery, but I’d be lying to myself if I didn’t also face the brutal truth that this whole process has had the cumulative effect of killing my dream.

That’s fine. It’s not the first time. Sacrificing your dreams at the altar of reality is a rite of passage for everyone but a handful of rock stars and ballerinas. You can’t ever let that shit get to you, or else you’ll end up leading one of those lives of quiet desperation.

The trick is a healthy line of succession. When a dream dies, you gotta pick up that crown and put it on the next head right away. It doesn’t matter if the new dream is thirteen years old and terrified, that bitch is queen now.

The dream is dead. Long live the dream.