“Did you get those progress reports done?”
“Sure did, but give me a bit to review them ok?” I say with a grin as I shuffle to my cubicle. People pass me without a word. I can almost hear their thoughts “is that the janitor?” No… just the graveyard shift worker that doesn’t seem to care about his appearance.
I slide into my chair and behind the comfort of my three walls. I see heads passing by, but they remain bodiless as they continue on with more important business than my cubicle.
I enter my password and my screens wake with life. There is the progress report on the left… minimized, and on the center stage is my blog as usual. The progress report has been done for days actually.
I put on my hoody to protect against the torturous cold that the building embraces when the “important workers” leave. As my fingers begin to tap the keyboard my demeanor changes almost in an instant. Gone is the passive personality of corporate life and instead inspired thought is channeled through sprinting fingertips. The world dims, the harsh reality of my surroundings become a façade, and the reality of where I am is yet to be written. The sounds of my keyboard bounce off my enclosure and into the IT atmosphere, but to me it is a soundtrack to my heart. To me it is music and the sound lets me know I matter.