You’re leaving your current place of work and moving on. Whether you're resigning or just finishing a contract, or fired because you are too good at being "You" there’s an art to walking out the door with class – and with all of your ducks in a row.
I write words on paper. I am educated with degrees, diplomas, but when your of color, it's the affirmative action door that gets you into 99.9% of white owned employers interviews. Under the affirmative action clause, employers look good to the politically correct of society. "Token". I'm at the point in my life where the body now dictates what jobs I can do. I no longer care to wash toilets, floors, for the emotional demeaning emotional stress on my health. BUT, I have done it to get into the psych of the working poor. It's a place where no trust exists and women talk like drunken sailors. As I leave on a small tour of Alberta, thought of performing to hippies, whom like my words, BRAVO.. It comes to mind how I will invent myself after this. Brandon is birth place, memories of family trials/death, my own failures as a slave, being educated in Brandon MB is not for this Brown guy. I plan to leave the country in two years. Never to return but in a box. Buried with all the other family that I did not choose. Writing hours per day of my life adn those I listen too, in this homeless shelter, has enriched me and fullfilled me with sorrow at times, but has weakened my spirit. Humanity in Brandon is a show for the outsiders to watch on a screen.
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