I found today that while I definitely felt like I was being manipulated, again, by the inherent nature of poverty, I was motivated very deeply to make it through yet another opening-to-closing shift unscathed. I marched through the day with this strange countermelody, a beat, a soundtrack to my movements, my interactions, a fervent tempo-setter to an otherwise chaotic march, an otherwise disorganized thrust, a messy ballet movement crashing onto the stage, the conductor's wand in the middle of a gigantic mess of dissonant noise, and in the middle, a single beat, a percussion, a drum of eighth notes echoing quietly among the storm. A check from the City of Bath for $52.04. A hunger, a churn from my stomach reminding me of my drives. A slow chomping of carpet as I pace around the store trying to put away cheap product. And the want to be at my intended vacation destination. Burlington, Vermont. Right on Lake Champlain, facing upstate New York. It must be beautiful out there. It must be. It must be more beautiful than the other places I've had to forget about seeing in popups and emails and background wallpaper and motivational posters. Those are the beats that get me through. That is the countermelody. The melody is so rambled, so noisy, that today it was silence.