So I was on my way home from work this evening after a particularly sullen day. The realization that I had quit my job, and that I really need to figure out just what the hell I'm going to do to support my family kinda hit home today, so I began panicking under the surface. On my drive home, I began to lose it again (emotionally...I was scared out of my mind for my family), and I called Angela, who managed to calm me down enough to make it home.

I got off the interstate, and while waiting at a traffic light, I noticed some leafy weeds growing through the seams in the concrete of the divider median in the street. My first thought was that I wanted to remove the weeds to improve the appearance of the median.

Then it occurred to me: The weeds belonged there; the median didn't. It was the asphalt and concrete that were alien there, and despite the best effort of mankind's mastery of technology, those simple weeds would not be stopped. They exist simply because they must exist. They must break through whatever cracks and holes they find in order to reach for the embracing warmth of the sun.

My job is the asphalt.

I'm the weed.

I need sunlight.