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Random Musings

June 2003


Saturday, 14 June, 2003: Odd feelings lately. The mind alternately races and stalls. Work is beginning to chafe at me. Working with people is all well and good but being a peon is an anathema to me. It's almost infuriating to have to deal with people who are visibly less intelligent than I am but to whom I am compelled to kowtow simply because of my job. I suppose that I should be thankful that I won't feel badly about leaving this job. Last summer I loved my job. It was hot and difficult and sweaty and dirty and damp and I loved it. I did my job and I did it well and people knew what my responsibilities were. No-one came up to me and bitched about anything that wasn't my responsibility or my doing. My current job is a perfect example of the old adage, "the shit always rolls downhill". People blaming me for things being mis-marked, and then feeding me asinine explanations on why it was confusing ("the price tag is red and so are the tags that say clearance in other areas of the store, so it has to be on clearance"). All I do is ring people out. I have to go by what I've been told to do. I have no authority. It's my ass in a sling if I give you money off of something that's not on sale. The money will then come out of my paycheck, not out of some wonderful nameless fund that the company has set up for this sort of thing.

The mind does weird things. Mine love to be engaged in thought. It needs something going on all the time or it starts to over-rev. If I can't find something external to contemplate I start turning things over inside my head and then I tune out the things outside. Maybe that's why I like driving so much, it gives me something to concentrate on that's not internal and that isn't severely philosophically taxing. It's unwinding. The same goes for working on things. Maybe that's also why I liked my last job better. Something different every day as a handyman. I had my little rituals, and it was my meditation time essentailly.

Monday, 16 June, 2003:  Strange how I have this dual nature about me, the little man in my head whom nobody but me sees. The little voice that saw Shanna's vinyl pants and though, "Oh yeah." Myself and not myself. I worry about that voice sometimes. It gets louder as I age. More persuasive, better able to persuade that the self-destructive path will be enough fun to be worth it. Or maybe it's just louder and not really more persuasive, just more moticeable. If I really thought that getting myself "corrupted" were the way to go, then I would not be on the path which I have chosen. If I really were listening, I'd be out clubbing or something looking for girls who have much in common with the mannerisms of a friend who has since changed her ways. Still it can be a little odd when the voice suddenly breaks through in some form of off-colour joke.

Thursday, 19 June, 2003:   Exerpts from letters:

     I begin to despair of ever being with my Companion. I fear that when I find her, I won't act because I can't let myself get under someone else's control and not be chafed by it. Even with you it bothers me greatly at intervals. I know that the only thing keeping you in my head is my own desire to allow you to stay there, I still let it drive me nuts the way I want to (and do) let you smile and hide what you want hidden, or let you see right through me by my intentionally making myself transparent for you. For pete's sake, what is so amazingly wrong with me that I'm this neurotic? It doesn't harm me and yet I agonise over it. I know you claim that you don't move the furniture, but I know that the end-tables aren't in the same place they always were. Not that you're intentionally moving things, but your being there is causing things to be moved. Still, I know full well that it's not your intentional doing. I know that I'm allowing it all to happen and that I can stop it any time I like. What worries me is that I don't want to stop it. I need to talk with some people about this.
**********
     Most everyone has scattered. Things are past "coming undone" and it's finally dawning on me that I can't go back. That I can't hold on. That I have to move forward even if I don't know where that will take me. I look ahead and I can't get a clear picture, and it scares me. Not the mundane stuff, I know that I'll find a job and a house and that I'll be all right in all of this worldly stuff. I wonder where I'll be with friends. I wonder if I'll recognise my Companion when out paths cross or if I'll be too afraid of letting someone else have part of me. I wonder if I'll keep the new friendships I've developed in the past year or so with your sister and Pavel and you, among others. Paige calls me a searcher. She's right. But it's lonely to be a searcher, and the searcher must eventually become a finder or it's all without value? Or maybe the search has it's own value. But I don't think I can be a searcher and find the comfort I see that you and Paige and Pavel have. I need to have found "It" to have it all end up without the lonliness inherent to being a searcher.

Tuesday, 24 June, 2003:   There are many possible responses to a stimulus that is disturbing to the status quo. One can run from the stimulus and by so doing attempt to avoid the stimulus alltogether. One can ignore the stimulus and carry on without change. One can pay lip service to the stimulus and by so doing attempt to end the stimulus at the source. Or one can aim straight for the stimulus and see where that takes him. I have chosen the last. Paige, I'll see you in 17 days. Let us see where it takes me.

Thursday, 26 June, 2003:  I am more of the lone wolf than I thought. I had gotten into the habit of considering the "lone wolf" persona to have been a concoction of my movie and literary idols, but I'm starting to see that it's really a connection I have with those idols. The inherent lonliness has made me want to believe that I'm not really of that sort, but when it all comes right down to it, I function much better and am most comfortable when I am on my own, when I am independant. It's not that I dislike people, or even that I wish to be detached from them all the time, but I'm just not the person who needs or even wants to be with people all the time. I like them, in fact I love people, and I do not reject their company, but I don't often seek company either. So I suppose that in the end I'm more like Badger in "The Wind In The Willows" than anything else. Despite initial impressions to the contrary, I'm very, very far from even hinting at being misanthropic.
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Last Updated:  06 March, 2003

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