Forgive my Night Vale.
Hopefully, all this strike business is settled while I’m out of country, so I don’t have to worry about hitting the picket lines after hours or whatever. At least I was code one and therefore, got to work.
It’s not that I oppose the union’s aims (hey, I could use more money and the ability to work from home permanently), but I’m not a joiner. It’s not in my nature to show solidarity without question.
I’m a devil’s advocate. It’s core to my being to constantly question everything, to look for alternate perspectives, as many as I can, so I can harmoniously bring them together and see which one has the stink of reason about it, and how that can be combined without other such smells to create something true.
And often, there’s no one truth. One person’s hero can be another’s villain and so on. A brilliant creative mind can also be a terrible human being. Genius and asshole are by no means exclusive.
So, I will let others decide this one, and try to simply focus on enjoying France, and doing my job, and working toward my career as an author.
Sorry if that seems callous in the face of union solidarity, but I just can’t seem to bring myself to blind fervor in anything but the pursuit of happiness and health. For everyone, if possible. For as many as we can, in whatever tiny increments, if not.
Target: 1300 words
Written: 2742 words, novel: Father Lightning