Just as light fades and rivers run dry did the dread pack down hard in my consciousness as the last hours of the long weekend drifted away.
The quiet pleasure of three days off gave way to the moaning discomfort of Tuesday morning, the gateway to another passage of indifference and apathy, albeit a shortened version of a regular week.
As I descended from the plateau of normality which the weekend provided and slowly lost my footing and stumbled, bewildered into the fiery fissure which passes for a workplace, the low cloud descended, the stormy weather followed and I wondered, “is this all there is?”
The idea of working day after day for years just to survive has always seemed to me to be a little off centre.
Perhaps misguided delusions of granduer have lulled me into thinking that my life is worth more than it is and although I believe I am talented in ways which should be recognised, the sad fact is that I am no more talented than the next person.
I admit a certain laziness has played a part at keeping me at my modest station in life along with a timidity only occasionally apparent and a lack of self confidence lurking in the background which raises it’s pimpled, pockmarked head anytime I think more grandiosly of myself than I should.
As I’ve said before, don’t get me wrong!
I’ve lead a charmed life and I’m a lot happier being than the self-loathing, social phobic personality that passed for me in my youth.
Also, my private life, as frustrating as it can sometimes be, is certainly a more pleasant road to trundle along presently than before.
The time alone in my “Fortress of Solitude” in Kambah in my single days assuredly had it’s moments and at times I do think back on those days with a mischevious envy, conveniently forgetting the instances when living by myself felt comparable to being marooned on a desrt island, depression and lonlieness consuming me.
When I take the time to consider it I’m certainly better off now. Except when it comes to work.
Surely there is something that a forty two year old man can aspire to and succeed at when ensconsed in the situation I find myself. Something which won’t break my back or scorch my mind. Something that won’t leave me open to ridicule from the twenty something uni grads with their “all brains, no idea” personas I might encounter in any new endeavour. Something that won’t leave me deflated as the sun sets on the Monday evening of a public holiday.
In many ways I feel stronger than I ever have. I want to find more mountains to climb and oceans to cross. My engine is revving but I am still stuck in idle. I need to conquer the quirks of my own personality.
So as we dive further into the week and reach the much cherised hump, after which the weekend looks like more of a reality than a distant dream, I will continue on my way, plugging along at my own pace like a dilipitated old wagon on rutted road.
Life is good but with a few tweaks it will be better. Thanks for reading my rant and I hope it hasn’t scarred you for the rest of the day. Have a good one.
The quiet pleasure of three days off gave way to the moaning discomfort of Tuesday morning, the gateway to another passage of indifference and apathy, albeit a shortened version of a regular week.
As I descended from the plateau of normality which the weekend provided and slowly lost my footing and stumbled, bewildered into the fiery fissure which passes for a workplace, the low cloud descended, the stormy weather followed and I wondered, “is this all there is?”
The idea of working day after day for years just to survive has always seemed to me to be a little off centre.
Perhaps misguided delusions of granduer have lulled me into thinking that my life is worth more than it is and although I believe I am talented in ways which should be recognised, the sad fact is that I am no more talented than the next person.
I admit a certain laziness has played a part at keeping me at my modest station in life along with a timidity only occasionally apparent and a lack of self confidence lurking in the background which raises it’s pimpled, pockmarked head anytime I think more grandiosly of myself than I should.
As I’ve said before, don’t get me wrong!
I’ve lead a charmed life and I’m a lot happier being than the self-loathing, social phobic personality that passed for me in my youth.
Also, my private life, as frustrating as it can sometimes be, is certainly a more pleasant road to trundle along presently than before.
The time alone in my “Fortress of Solitude” in Kambah in my single days assuredly had it’s moments and at times I do think back on those days with a mischevious envy, conveniently forgetting the instances when living by myself felt comparable to being marooned on a desrt island, depression and lonlieness consuming me.
When I take the time to consider it I’m certainly better off now. Except when it comes to work.
Surely there is something that a forty two year old man can aspire to and succeed at when ensconsed in the situation I find myself. Something which won’t break my back or scorch my mind. Something that won’t leave me open to ridicule from the twenty something uni grads with their “all brains, no idea” personas I might encounter in any new endeavour. Something that won’t leave me deflated as the sun sets on the Monday evening of a public holiday.
In many ways I feel stronger than I ever have. I want to find more mountains to climb and oceans to cross. My engine is revving but I am still stuck in idle. I need to conquer the quirks of my own personality.
So as we dive further into the week and reach the much cherised hump, after which the weekend looks like more of a reality than a distant dream, I will continue on my way, plugging along at my own pace like a dilipitated old wagon on rutted road.
Life is good but with a few tweaks it will be better. Thanks for reading my rant and I hope it hasn’t scarred you for the rest of the day. Have a good one.
Strange Notations From a Laborious Life 