I have spread my dreams beneath your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
William Butler Yeats
I’m sitting in front of my computer at a little after 10:00pm at night, bathed in the dull glow of the small 40 watt decorative lights in the wall sconces covered in aged thick translucent glass on those scones. There is extra light coming from the kitchen, where the cats sleep contented under the kitchen table, waiting patiently for the food they know will come when I am done here. I have my headphones on, so I don’t burden my wife with the music I want to listen to, which at this point is, curiously enough, on the warmest night of the year, Christmas music (Parum pum pum pum). I miss the cold, the contented feeling of the holiday season, even in the depths of poverty, one can feel rich during that time of year. I sit with my feet up on the computer table, trying to figure out with precisely what words I will pour out the contents of what is left of my soul onto the screen in front of me, to lay bare the essence of my heart for all the world to understand.
The contents of my heart are not dark like the night, with emotions in shadow, and things unknown and unwanted lurking in the hidden corners of my mind. They are like a glaring sunny day, burning, flaring bright, hot, matching the heat of the day of the hottest day of the year, burning off all the excess, scaring off all but the strongest.
I have little in the way of money, but honestly, for at least this one day, I don’t care. I own almost nothing, and it does not matter. I am sore all over, pain that is a week old and that I have been adding to daily crawls across my legs, looking for a place to settle. My right knee seems to want to live a life of its own, go in directions I haven’t asked it to. I giggle at this. The pain in my left hamstring leaves me feeling like I just got stabbed in the ass. It brings a smile to my face, despite wanting to snarl at the pain.
I can take anything.
I have little in the way of prospects for a decent future. No job, no money coming in. Doesn’t matter, that’ll come. I’m looking for work with every resource I have at my disposal, and being a seeker, I shall find a job, and a good one, it’s that simple. I don’t know what the future holds, I can hope, but I’ve had hopes before, and I’ve had them dashed. Won’t let that stop me from keeping my head held high, as high as I can.
I’ll be damned if I let this lack of work, this lack of any tangible sign of success in my life, or for that matter the inconsequential pain running through me from thinking its all going to work out in the end. Let it burn, I can take it.
I’m better than these circumstances, I’m stronger than anything the world can throw at me.
All men dream: but not equally, Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds wake in the day to find that it was vanity: but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act their dream with open eyes, to make it possible.
Viddy of the day: Sen. Sheldon Whitehouse’s opening speech at the Elena Kagan’s Supreme court nomination. I caught parts of this today, not all of it though, I was busy looking for a job.
Monday’s unbelievably semi-random links:
Sometimes I feel the need to get crap like that off of my chest, to get it out of my head. Just to say “Yes, I can do this”, when it feels like I can’t, or when the world seems so much bigger and stronger than I am. Which it does feel like now that I am back out of work.
I think when I first lost my job back in March last year, it came as such a shock, such a complete and utter surprise and it hurt so much, that my first reaction, and the one that pervaded my mind for much of that time, was one of remorse, of anger at myself, of “I have done wrong”.
I don’t want to make that mistake twice. I did what I had to do before I lost that job, I am doing the same now, and I don’t want to get caught up in that negative emotional bullshit that I got caught up in then at this point in my life.
Hence the first part of this article.
Chronic remorse, as all the moralists are agreed, is a most undesirable sentiment. If you have behaved badly, repent, make what amends you can and address yourself to the task of behaving better next time. On no account brood over your wrong-doing. Rolling in the muck is not the best way of getting clean.
Aldous Huxley; Brave New World