One potato, two potato, three potato, four.
This is how my nightmare goes. I am stuck in a cell, peeling endless piles of potatoes for a feast to feed 1,000 homeless. Who are very hungry. The dream ends, I roll myself out of bed and make motions to ready for work, where I'll be stuck in a cell answering endless emails to satiate a 1,000 clients.
Hate my job, Hate my job, Hate my job, four.
I stare out the west window, my feet up on its sill, absorbing the view from three stories up. A seagull soars by, hovers, baring his breast towards me before he swoops up and out of sight. He doesn't even know the word "cell". Well, chances are he doesn't know any words, but that lessens my irritation none.
I hate that fucking seagull.
My mouth holds this sour taste for anything at the moment that seems "free"--sans burden. Sounds like a vacation isle off the coast of Portugal or something. OH yes-- Frank and I just got back from our holiday in Sans Burden...oh? You've never been? You simply must visit sometime! If you can find the time of course... Of course.
Lack of responsibility being the only requirement for personal dislike, babies, kittens and rocks are all equal recipients of my cloudy scowl. I'm perplexed by people who seem to have merriment sweep them through the day, like it's swirling dust at their feet flowing with them from joyous moment to joyous moment.
There's an older man, Larry, who is you might say, one sandwich shy of a picnic. He dons the same stained khakis and a ratty wool sweater every morning I run into him at the coffee shop. An old green Schwinn with baskets carries him through town while he mumbles to himself, a large bulbous helmet strapped under his chin. Right now it's parked out front, no lock, as he sits inside and sips his drink. Larry seems to be doing okay in life, drinking cappuccinos extracted from a artisan copper espresso machine, sitting grinning with foam on his nose while others rush in and out, to and from the office.
When in grade-school, little did I know the answer to the question "what do you want to be when you grow up" was not doctor or president, but Larry.
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About Me
- Bex
- Alchemist of words, mixologist of mirth and salty tears. Wonderment consumes me, curiosity compels me, confusion confounds me.
4 comments:
Any idea how green the grass in your office is? A few months ago, while working 50 hours a week, I was in the same situation. I craved some sort of change, release, reprieve from my shackled situation. It came in the form of a budget cut, and with government sponsorship of my "plight" I was freed to do what I was really put on this earth to do. For the first month, this meant finding local happy hours, sitting on messenger telling my friends how awesome it was not to be at work, and choosing a favorite daytime tv judge. (Judge Alex, if you ever have the pleasure.)
The new mantra was doing all of the things I told myself I really needed to do someday... Go to the downtown library, zoo, meet friends for lunch hours. This culminated in in a life altering road trip to Santa Cruz, where I had a map no real itinerary. After returning refreshed, renewed, and with a new outlook on life I began to get a bit sick of it. I discovered motivation, not lack of time was the enemy of finding myself.
Self discipline, the thing I was lacking, is the routine responsibility we so abhor. Responsibilities create rewards, and as much as it pains me to say it make up a large part of our identity. Is Larry is enviable because he can do anything he wants, or because he does?
Here here! Or is that hear hear?
Regardless, yes...I agree. Responsibility is inevitable and reqired. I deplore eschewing it more than I do shouldering it. But have a hard time doing the latter.
You've found my personal Achille's heel. Touche!
Thanks for reading,
Bex
Really enjoying your blog. I found it using BlogSurfer, in case you wondered. Bellingham is beautiful! Just moved away from Seattle, and I miss it already.
Cheers...
Joe,
Thanks...I snuck a peak at what I think was your blog. It's stark authenticity stands out. (Read: I like it.)
Just moved to Bellingham from Seattle myself. Hard to miss Seattle too much when I'm here.
Hope you're planting some good roots where ever you be.
Bex
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