Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Christmas Cartons


Hmm, another Tuesday morning, and I'm wanting to write. Wonder if this will turn into a trend? Maybe it's just a coincidence, but hey this would be TWO entries in September, a record!

So last week, I mentioned that I was feeling dried up. This hasn't changed much in the past week, but considering last week's entry was right after a 10 hour shift at work, as is this one, I suppose it shows my mind frame after coming off of work.

I'm very grateful to have a job. I will never say that I am taking it for granted. I will say, though, I do feel that the job IS beneath me. Here is a description of what I do: I take cartons off a truck and put them on a conveyor belt. For 10 hours, four days a week. Sometimes the cartons are heavy, sometimes they are light. Another guy stands at the other end of the conveyor belt and puts UPC stickers on each carton so they go to the correct truck. Sometimes I put the stickers on, but I'd rather load the cartons on the conveyor belt.

I'm a designer. I'm a builder. I'm a dream-maker.

At least, I was. And I am discouraged now that I am not. I don't do it in my professional life, I don't do it in my personal life. Somehow, someway, I lost my ability to dream. And I can't seem to jump start it back to where it once was. What changed? Why do I allow myself to drudge forward in a dull, grey world?

It is Septmeber. The cartons I load on the conveyor belts are filled with Christmas decorations for stores to sell. Every carton is cardboard- brown, and inside each of them are the deep evergreens, rich maroons and glittery gold of Christmas. But I see brown. And honestly, I don't care to see the rich majesty within the cartons. What is important to me is that these items get to the right store, and my job is to get the ball rolling on getting them there. The stores will have wonderful magical polyurethane snow-blankets and tall plastic trees, hundreds of thousands of twinkling happy icicle lights and inflatable reindeer soon, and I don't care if I see it at all.

This is my quest: to find out where my desire for living life to the fullest went to. And why I don't care.

Is it important to know why I don't care? or is it more important just to know that I don't care, reasons be damned? I'm not sure. I think I should know this, because if the why isn't important, than I should spend my energy elsewhere than to figure out why, and concentrate more on the situation.. rather than what lead up to the situation.

More later as the quest unfolds.

Bring a box-knife.

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Dry period. (Boring title)

It's early Tuesday morning, and I think this'll be a short blog. Just putting something up so there's a little activity here.

I'm in a pretty numb state lately. My passions have all pretty much dried up. I'm doing what I need to do, and not exploring much, not trying out new things. Not experimenting with life. But I don't say this in a bad way. I think I'm just needing to be this way for a little while.

When I was a kid, I saw this nature documentary. This is way back when all nature documentaries were hosted by Sebastian Cabot and no one drank their own urine to survive. I think it took place in Africa. It was the dry period. The watering hole had dried up, and no life was to be seen. But afterwards came the rainy period, and not so much miraculously, but systematically, Life reappeared. Little fishes populated the once dry bed. Where did these little fishes come from? Well, as a survival mechanism, the fishes had evolved a sort of hibernation. The sealed themselves up under the mud as the dry period was coming in a waterproof mucus envelope, and their body metabolism slows to showing almost no sign of life. When the rains came, they sprang back to life, and began spawning. Dry periods came, wet periods came. It is natural what these fishes do.

Am I in this dry period? I hope so. A time of self-directed healing, rationing my energies and devotions to the most meager necessities until better times and better fortunes. I would hate to think that I had been at the bus depot when my ship came in. My ship is coming in, isn't it?

What the hell, I'm mixing my metaphors again.

No matter. I'm not doing much right now, and I don't think I can as of yet. I had a pretty tumultuous year and a lot of stuff happened. My apple cart upturned, and once that happens, one must pick up the apples. Which is what I'm doing right now. Yes. I know, another metaphor for the mix. Don't keep track, please, just roll with it. Once I'm re-situated, I think I can move on again. Time, though. It takes time.

I think one thing I have to do in this time of regrouping is re-examine what it is that I feel I have lost. Because I do feel that I've lost some things. My curiosity, for one, and my drive to move forward. I worry that those are things that people just normally lose as they get older, but then I also know that's not true. But i can't seem to find my drive.
I should also pay attention to what I've gained, to be fair and balanced. I mean after all, I went through these experiences that were unique and unexpected, There should be a veritable treasure chest of resources to dig into.

September is a good grounding time. Autumn is coming, school has started, and with that regular scheduling. I've got a job, now, one that pays. And we are on the verge of buying this house. So, this upcoming month should be one of regularity, which is something I need. I can put my desires and dreams on hold for some good old fashioned fertilizing.

Saturday, August 13, 2011

Marcus and the Big Gay Gorilla in the Room

I found this story on Raw Report: