My first job out of college was in a large corporation, as a graphic designer. It was the first job I would have where I would be working in a cubicle. Someone took me up to the floor that I would be on, and I saw the mass of cubicles I reconized from "Office Space". My cubicle was down the isle where all of the rest of the Art Department worked. A sadness dreared over me as I passed each one, all with one common denominator. Unlike cubicles in say a software company, where maybe middle aged woman & men display their the family life in cheap photo frames from Target, that they that had worked hard to support, as a reminder why they were there in the first place; the artists that occupied these cubicles had quite the opposite: All their cubicles were lined with all sorts of art; from traditional to modern, to graphics, to ads they enjoyed, to personal pieces they had made sometime when they did not exist there. They weren't reminders of why they were suffering through it. They were unfulfilled dreams, that they were not currently pursing. It disturbed me on a deep level. I carried feelings of remorse for them, as I walked down a fabricated corridor to what seemed would be my open grave . I didn't want to be in a place for 8 hours of my day where I stared at a life I wish I had. I knew I wouldn't work hard there, afterall, at the end of the day if I shipped a few extra units, I wouldn't see a dime - Where was my motivation? I quit that afternoon.

THIS MONEY IS OUR STARTUP FUND, IT WILL HELP MARKET US AND GET TO THE RIGHT PEOPLE, AND IS ENOUGH TO START LAUNCHING THEIR DREAMS & OURS.