So I've done well for a little while, yeh? Shared my sanitized thoughts on Facebook. Been whimsical, played well with others, been a little naughty, had some fun, yeh? Met some new people, met some old people, met some people I like, and a few I don't think I'll like in the long run. Viva la zeitgeist!
This morning I'm ever so slightly off kilter, tho. I miss the initmacy and unlimited word count of Blogger. And tomorrow, after a two month successful dodge of training, I have to perform another 8-hour crisis management class. The thought of it today when getting out of my car and coming into the building, made me want to scream and curse someone out. I felt/feel cornered and threatened and angry as all hell. I never asked to be put up in front of a classroom of strangers and entertain them via a curriculum with physical touching. And tomorrow I've got a training partner who I do believe will be her first time. So I don't have just the class to manage but a new trainer as well. And it makes me furious enough to quit. If this had been the job, I would not have taken it.
But let's face it, this aversion to discomfort is just the tip of the iceberg. I'm sick to death of discomfort. It's ALL discomfortable. ALL OF IT. Yesterday I had the evening off (a tradition I believe I'll insist upon. No more Monday nights at the office). And I played ChampionsOnline for a good 8 hrs as a result. Yeah, from about 4pm to midnight. Why? Well, because it's awesome to get out of my skin and inhabit the fit and colorful little hero who can literally leap tall buildings in a single bound, heal with one surge of his bioenergy, and explode villains away with another. That's why. And too, because it kind of feels sucky to be me.
So I complain about working as much as I do, and I toil toward the goal of going monojob, but then I realize that when I do have that opportunity to have free time, its all spent trying to be anything else but myself.
And I've been on the road of self-discovery. I'm as introspective as a clam. Solopsistic to an absolute fault. Obsessive. And the answers I find lead me to one major idea. I'm not a happy man.
I can be happy. I can laugh and find real joy in things. People's lives are wondrous. People's ideas are special and unique and beautiful. The works of man are breathtaking. Life is precious. People are precious. And I know that I am too.
But what it feels like? It feels like crap.
Would it still feel like crap if I were in a loving relationship? Would it feel like crap if I had a 6pac? Would it feel like crap if I could live off one job? If I were a Doctor of Psychology? If I had my own apartment? If my car was paid off? If I had a cat again? If I were younger? Taller? Had superpowers?
You know what? I don't know. Sometimes I think this is just what life is. A series of disheartening challenges with brief flashes of light and hope and happiness. No? Is it better for you?
Are you happy? Mostly?
I really want to know.
Can you tell me?
2 comments:
Take it from a happily married father of three: escapism is either in you or it is not.
If it is, you need to be sure that the person you end up with (note how the positive nature of that sentence) is clear on the fact that you're going to need time every week to yourself to go do "other things" than be with the ones you love. Not because you don't love them, but because it's just who you are.
And sometimes you'll feel guilty sneaking off somewhere after not seeing your loved one's all day.
But in the end, that sneaking off says "Hey, when I am with you, I want to be as supportive and loving as I can. And I can be do that best when I've had some time to myself to recover."
Mostly. I'm mostly happy. I have things in my life that I am unhappy about, things that I wish I could change. But all in all, I'm happy. Mostly.
Post a Comment