After college, I got a job at Hewlett-Packard. Each day when I’d arrive at work, I’d spend the first 15 minutes or so journaling, writing about a lame open mic I attended; or a spectacular evening spent at the Smithsonian’s Freer Gallery of Art; or the horrors of my nine-to-five imprisonment. From time to time, I’d write little funny poems about life and love. These musings all shared one thing in common: they were random, unadulterated, unedited, and funny (at least to me). Eventually, I got into the habit of faxing (I know, I’m dating myself. We didn’t have email) these free verses to my best friend each morning. It was our morning ritual, never to be missed. She’d become a little testy if I was late or delinquent in my literary responsibility. The name of the folder I’d saved all of these was Manpower. I chose this name because it spoke to my supreme manliness. It also happened to be the name of the Temporary agency I worked for.
Before I knew it, a year had passed by, and I was addicted to these free writes. One Saturday I started reading through each entry and made an awkward discovery: The notes I was sending to my best friend seemed to be getting more and more personal.~ read more ~