“I wanted to tell you that you did a really great job,” she said, reaching out to shake my clammy hand enthusiastically, “You always look so poised when I see you.” I felt my mouth gape open slightly at a compliment from someone like her, eyes widening in bewilderment. “Who, me?” I wanted to say. I probably looked like a fish out of water. Maybe because I was. I could stand up and talk about some excessively intricate way to save this behemoth company some money in front of a bunch of bigwigs all I wanted, but I couldn’t even begin to pretend that I belonged here. Regardless, I gave her a sincere thanks for her compliment, but I could not shake the feeling that I was becoming more trapped in this life every single day.

“Every night when I’m dreaming
All these scars that I’m keeping open up like a flower
Leaves me fraught with desire”

The American corporation has successfully done what so many governments and religions have tried try for centuries to accomplish: it has brainwashed many talented and capable people into believing that living a certain way will bring them happiness. In this case, it’s running the rat race. They drive their flashy cars in the early morning for the ten minutes it takes to get from their overpriced, undersized homes to the office, and then they leave ten or even twelve hours later after the sun has gone down on the beautiful world they live in. If you get a window office you’re really lucky–being able to see the outside world pass you by while you sit in front of your computer is a privilege awarded only to the most valuable members of this society. It is my belief that most of them die inside eventually, surrendering young dreams to the promise of a steady paycheck, too comfortable with a mundane life they never really chose.

But I’m no better. Here I am, masquerading as one of them while a hurricane rages inside of me. Poised? I am waging an internal war with myself every day that I continue to pursue something that does not make me feel impassioned. “Extremely intelligent, social and engaging” my reviews have read, listing on my better qualities, “but often seems disinterested in delving further into the work.”  Oh, I’m sorry, am I that bad at pretending?  At least I’m genuine, I suppose.

I do not want to quiet the hurricane, I want to provoke it. I want it to drive me forward, and this is why I write: to remind myself that the path I’m on is only a stepping stone to where I am going, to keep ahead and not get caught up in the day to day, only to wake up fifteen years from now and have accomplished a middle management position at the cost of living with any true passion.

Karin Park and Pandora Drive‘s mesmerizing track “Hurricane”  has done exactly what she intended it to–serve as a moving testament to the turmoil we all experience as we blunder our way through the years trying to find what makes us feel the most alive.  Booka Shade‘s touch of techno perfection takes the original up several notches; the remix has meaningful lyrics and haunting vocals as well as beats that make the track suitable for dark nightclubs where lost souls go to find themselves.

I know I’m not alone with my inner hurricane; I’m sure it lives inside many of us, and what we do with it is of real consequence. Will you quiet yours and fall in line or will you step up and embrace it?

Karin Park | Pandora Drive | Booka Shade

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Emily SoCal | soundcloud.com/em-shawdy