Pic of the day, part i: Still Life with Musical Instruments, by Pieter Claesz
Why wouldst thou be a breeder of sinners? I am myself indifferent honest; but yet I could accuse me of such things that it were better my mother had not borne me. I am very proud, revengeful, ambitious; with more offences at my beck than I have thoughts to put them in, imagination to give them shape, or time to act them in. What should such fellows as I do crawling between earth and heaven? We are arrant knaves all; believe none of us.
William Shakespeare, Hamlet, act iii, scene i (Hamlet)
I am at the best of times indelicate. Physically indelicate. Bull in a china shop is how I have been described on a number of occasions. I don’t try to be. But I am, and I cannot be something I am not. And I use the word indelicate to be as nice as possible. I could be more blunt. The word brutish comes to mind, oafish perhaps, bumbling and klutzy are yet other ways to say it.
I try my best but cannot escape who and what I am. And that “Bull” in “Bull in a china shop “is the right way to put it. Strong, healthy, powerful. Powerful for someone my size that is. I use a great deal of energy when I work, and move more than most people can, even if many people there are actually stronger than I am. It is in some way to make up for my complete lack of finesse that I do this. It doesn’t always work, but a man can only try.
But it was not enough to convince them to hire me. They told me as much a month ago, but I have waited, hoping something might turn around. And something has. Which is why I am again sending out resumes. I know I have threatened to do this a number of times but I have begun in earnest to do so. I feel like I have no future there anymore, when before I have felt like I had one, even if in reality I did not.
There are many wonderful people who work there, and I enjoy much of the work that I do. But that does not guarantee a future there. Apparently love of work and money rarely mix well, unless you want to be a slavish buffoon. Bull I may be, buffoon I am not.
Send me to a place most delicate, and I am out of my element. I need metal and wood. Hammers and noise. Large loud people, and happy barking laughter. Sweat and grime. Yet the world sends me to places most delicate. But the world is not entirely blind, because even the most delicate places have need of hammers and wood, sweat and barking laughter. The one cannot exist without the other.
Hammers banging on metal, making my ears ring makes me cringe and smile, made my day today. Ripping pieces of metal off of shelves made me smile. Moving huge pieces of metal and stone were an unbridled grunting joy. I said some time ago that I would rather break stones in the noonday sun than go back to doing what I was doing before, working in a copy center.
There are moments now that provoke that same feeling of helpless hate that I had working there. Only moments though. I also understand that no job is perfect and all work creates negativity of some type. I’m not happy that I am finding it where I am, but I am not surprised either. After all, it’s just a job. And jobs are simply means of making money so you can give it to someone else, thus affixing unnecessary importance to money (and by extension the people we work for) by attaching it in the minds of people far and wide with the objects the money acquires for us.
When it shouldn’t.
There is far too much attachment to objects in this world.
You can’t take it with you.
Pic of the day, part ii: The Five senses, by Lubin Baugin
Do not, as some ungracious pastors do,
Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven,
Whiles, like a puff’d and reckless libertine,
Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads.
And recks not his own rede.
William Shakespeare, Hamlet, act i scene iii (Ophelia)
That’s it from here, America. G’night