The Joy Show

"The Truman Show" is one of those movies I'm constantly comparing my life to because I really think I'm important enough to have my own show. HA! Just kidding... To make a long story short, Truman was born into a play play world created for a hit television show. All of the people in his world were actors and actresses. Yes, he lived in a real life yet fake world much like a bubble. This continuous happy bubble laced with fear was established in order to control his adventurous spirit. Overall, he lived what we like to call the "American Dream". However, in the end, his spontaneous existence amongst scripted commercially driven skits helped reveal the real scheme. They had every moment planned out. Where did they go wrong? Well, true love along with his ability to dream proved to be the end of his happy scripted fake life for other people's amusement.

We all have those moments when you think the universe is working together to drive you crazy. This morning on the #4 train, I stopped in my tracks. I had to take a moment to look around slowly at every face just to make sure people were not staring at me to see the amazing facial expression plastered on my face. Today is the first day we sign-in and out at work. Yep, my employer got us feeling like factory workers. If we log in late, we are docked for every minute. UGH! Before we submitted paper time sheets with dignity. I guess the higher ups got wind of this and didn't feel the gap of our peasantry so they had to find a way to establish the hierarchy system. So now we have to sign-in via the internet from our desktop computers at work every start of the day and end of the day.

Back to this train scene that almost made me cuss random folk OUT. So, I'm chilling on the train sitting there feeling all good because I made good time by getting to the train station on time ONLY to get PISSED between 86th and 59th streets. How did the passenger two trains ahead know to get SICK the first day of my online factory clock in?? HOW?? Who is running this thing??? How do we know there is REALLY someone sick at 42nd street?? Where is the proof?? If yo ass is sick, STAY OFF THE FUCKING TRAIN!!! IT'S SIMPLE. CAB IT TO THE E.R. DAMMIT!!!!! I sat there stuck for 20 minutes straight thinking about how much I hate the #4 train, the conductor, Mike Bloomberg and his NYCMTA cronies and the SICK passenger...yeah, they can get it TOO!

Even if this life of mine belongs to some successful television show, why are they only interested in seeing me stressed the fuck out??? Who is producing this monstrosity? Who? Let me at em! I want OUT! TECH SUPPORT! Okay, I'm done cussing and ranting. But, am I the only one that gets that eerie feeling like your life is rigged to make you do the jig for someone else's entertainment?

Can I just chit chat with the writers of my show for a spell? I have some ideas of how this thing (my life) should be run and believe me it will be a smoother sail. The weekend writers were on point this go round. I was able to spend much needed quality time with my boo and we did some thangs, slept, ate *smile* and then did some more thangs. However, we need to hire better Monday writers; they suck like disgruntled employers docking pennies from employees in the lowest paying factories.

Like Truman, no one can control my mind, body and soul. Even if this life is a show, I'm unscripted mofos. STOP PLAYING WITH ME and let me out this bubbledome! Btw, do I get a check for all my wiping, cussing, screaming and believable happy faces displayed? o_O