Herding Cats
The unadulterated fiction in my head clashed today with my lackluster reality. Not pretty, but long overdue.
When did I betray my college philosophy that cookie-cutter cubicles and sterile officescapes are a threat to one’s creative consciousness? At what point did I trade the beautifully blank canvas in my brain for a machine of monotony paid to regurgitate trite clichés in real estate brochures and template-driven websites?
Seriously. I throw up in my mouth a little more each time I use stale adjective-noun combinations like “stunning views” and “contemporary masterpiece.” Shove a wooden spoon do
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When did I betray my college philosophy that cookie-cutter cubicles and sterile officescapes are a threat to one’s creative consciousness? At what point did I trade the beautifully blank canvas in my brain for a machine of monotony paid to regurgitate trite clichés in real estate brochures and template-driven websites?
Seriously. I throw up in my mouth a little more each time I use stale adjective-noun combinations like “stunning views” and “contemporary masterpiece.” Shove a wooden spoon down my throat but don’t make me write another inane paragraph about someone’s crazy-ass house that they can’t sell because they took customization to a whole new level. Note to home sellers: John Wayne-themed bathrooms and Loony Toon tributes don’t sell houses; they just creep people out.
Real estate marketing. That’s what they call what I get paid to do. I call it bull shit, but not out loud. They pay me, remember?
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