Candid Corvid Productions

Out on-the-sea of dis-par ri-ty
Where hopes and dreams fall as-suuun-der

You will see what-was-once cap-tive
Now re-leased on waves’ rol-ling thuuun-der…

It can go faster like a chant game and get raucously silly with boot stamping and bottle smashing, then slow down again with earnest sincerity.

The two chiropractors I have worked for allowed sick people into the office during this pandemic, and when I’ve become sick as a result, they fired me.

The first client allowed in still smelled sick and his skin was slick as soon as he got on my table.

He had just had COVID, but proclaimed himself over it – while his family was still in quarantine. My employer thought COVID was a hoax designed to control Ametican businesses and derided my caution, so I could not terminate the session.

I believe I caught the virus from this client, for he was the only direct exposure I’d had, and for the next month, I fought off an aggressive draw on my immune system with herbs and vitamins to keep symptoms from developing.

The second office, here in a new town, let a client in who had a strong cold for over a week and still had symptoms of coughing and congestion.

This is when I was still moving, had already exhausted my immune system, and had to walk/jog home at night along the freeway after I caught it.

The cold got deep into my system, and when I let the office know I was infectious and questioned their sick policy, asking why they’d let the client keep the appointment, they also fired me.

I am concerned now that this is a thematic with chiropractors. Two different offices, in two different regions, have not followed strick screening policies against clients being sick – and I have paid for it.

They have also presented as supportive team players – then given me the ax suddenly, instead of collaborating.

I don’t need to keep nursing the feeling of taking it so personally – even though it is personal when people lie and sabotage your safety and financial security.

But, I do wonder if it’s even possible to find a competent office to work for – and this has me worried about sticking with this direction.

Employment is not secure when “throw away” societal standards are allowed.

It was wonderful to think you believed in me, and I appreciated how you saw the value in my survival’s ingenuity.

You seemed to not judge that I shopped at thrift stores, because one can find quality clothing there from all over at better prices than you’d find if you looked for the same items in many towns.

You rode beside me, checking in, through all these hardships of unemployment and moving to a town where our family would not have fit in, nor would have been accepted.

You fought to come back to me, everytime you were sideswiped by your culture and family for wanting to be with a woman older than you, who was an open-minded American.

But, you left me, in the end – and I’m left to feel shame all around.

Shame for the position I keep getting put into.

Shame for the way other supposed business “professionals” treat me without common decency.

And I look back at the life I offered you, where we would have had deep happiness between us – but it would have been pounded on by these hardships of financial insecurity, and people’s bias against our union.

It is one thing to say that we could have been like Khadija and Muhammad, sharing a love so rare and true.

It’s another thing in this modern materialism for you to be content with less because I cannot provide for you.

I am worn out by the constant struggle, and realize I would have carried this burden now for three people – not just two.

And once you had arrived here, the local masjid would have called you in and further indoctrinated you.

I see now that there was never a real chance for me and you because my spirit doesn’t give up – nor bow to hypocritical belief systems.

I dig for the truth and endure against societal brainwashing’s persistence, unsatisfied until I break through.

I cannot expect – nor further ask – the same of you.

“They shouldn’t have done that to you – they should have at least spoken with you about it!” exclaimed an older, beloved client.

“Yeah, but my last employer did something similar. It seems to be a theme.” I lamented.

“I should have a word with them – afterall, they’re supposed to be good Christians!”

“Look. I really appreciate your wanting to do this for me, but don’t think for one moment that if you challenge them, they won’t terminate your relationship with them as a client.

I’ve also seen this happen, and they like you. Don’t sacrifice yourself for me.”

(Conversations in my mind…)

“Why didn’t you stand up for me?” she asked the other doctor.

“Because I don’t ‘shit where I live!'” he replied, adamantly.

“You mean, you don’t stand up for others, if it hurts your own skin…”

(Conversations in my mind…)

Am I likeable? It’s a question this morning.

They say this is a product of naivete – or of youth – because supposedly, once you reach a certain age of “maturity,” such questions ought not to plague you.

I know I am likeable – and even more so, a genuine benefactor of humanity by the kind words I’ll say, or the lift I’ll give to another’s spirit in just passing.

I develop great rapport, genuine affection for, and caring with individual clients. I nourish trust between us, and they put a chance for their well beings’ progress in my hands.

It’s when I attempt to join forces with another team that I get bad messaging: I show up, play fair and squarely – then get rejected because the staff are doing other things.

I don’t go up to them in their face, and confront them.

I don’t walk around the office with a chip on my shoulder, or imposing judgements.

I just draw my sense of self more around me, holding my own position and not joining in the debauchery.

Meanwhile, the rest of the office flocks like birds chirping and following each others’ lead, swooping and winding through gossip trees.

Or, they gather together like a pack of hyenas, ready to figuratively attack and strip others, as soon as they see them.

I just take a step back and watch them, politely declining to add weight to their “cause.”

Before long, they excise me – and when I turn to go, they swipe at me with claws.

We used to have a cattery where we could time-out the cats, but with our place being smaller and youngest wanting the cats to be more happy, we did not bring it.

They used to yowl and misbehave with it, anyway. But, at least, we were where neighbors could not hear them.

The cats have been in youngling’s room while the rest of the house is put together, for they get into everything and could get hurt if unstable boxes fell on them.

They were content for a week and not causing mischief, but now when he is gone to work, the male begins digging at the bottom of the bedroom door, and I have had to spray him with water to get him to stop.

This evening, right after having to spray him, our silver girl decided to begin yowling loud for my attention. I had to go after her, too.

The thing is, there is no real solution.

Once these two get it in their minds (after having been given everything) that they want something different, they will misbehave until disciplined.

Their antics could get us kicked out with them being so loud and obnoxious in the middle of the night with neighbors stacked in around us.

I feel I have no choice but to stuff them into the back of the car in cat carriers when I leave to go get youngling, because if they do this behavior while I am gone, they are going to get us complaints from our neighbors.

We’ve only been here a week, and their anarchy could derail us!

(Two dogs and two cats in the car as passengers.)

I shouldn’t have these bruises – especially the deeper impact ones with a pink eye in the center, surrounded by a thick ring of purple.

And yet, I’m proud of them: they humanize me, and prove I’m capable of enduring.

It’s important The People respect me, and see me as akin to them.

Even if I’m an Elite.

“No. I won’t do it. I can’t watch you with another woman,” she resisted. “You’ll just have to give me a different project to oversee.”

“But, my Dear Girl,” he crooned in dulcet tones, persuading, “You know that only the deepest game will satisfy your craving.”

It is a challenge for me to recognize snd acknowledge my dualities.

I am stuck in the world of data and restrictions – this supposed “materialism” – and yet, I am more than a product of “The Machine.”

What I display to my own eyes from creativity is just the surface tip of more within and what can come through me.

I am a woman, yet a shapeshifter.

I am human, yet made of pure magic.

I am solid, yet ethereal.

I am calm and peaceful – yet a terrible, raging storm.

I’m an alchemist of emotions, is what it all comes down to.

Great power resides within me, waiting to be born.