Saving trash

 

There is a big shredder in [one of] my office[s]. Yesterday, I was trying to figure out how to get inside of it to get to the gold-filled middle, also known as "piles upon piles of raw material". There was no opening, no lock. I looked for a minute, then gave up. It wasn't something I was really wanting, but I thought it would be cool if I could take some home every once in a while.

One of my coworkers asked what I was doing (naturally). I said, "I love shredded paper". She replied, "You're kidding, right?"

"Nope", said I.

"Why?" she asked.

"Because it's awesome. You can put it in your compost pile. You can use it in packages. I just love it."

She stared at me for a good fifteen seconds without saying anything, and I stared right back. I was not ashamed, and I wasn't going to feel the shame that she was sending my way. But I couldn't waver in my own mind, not for her sake, but for mine. In order to truly love myself, I had to own what it is that I love, even something so small and seemingly insignificant.

Because seriously? When I get up in the morning, it isn't to make money (It's pretty obvious I'm never going to make much anyhow). It's to save trash.

I love trash, and I'm okay with it. Boo-yah.