Now this is a bit different! Sitting out on my back deck, cooling breeze blowing in from the east providing some comfort after the torrid experience of being manhandled by a 34 degree day.
It was stuffy inside so I thought bringing my little notebook computer outside to take advantage of the pleasant evening was just the ticket. The only problem I may encounter is the dying battery in this machine which is indicating a mere 57 minutes of life remaining. I better be quick!
It’s a little bit hard to write in the evenings. Dinner is to be prepared and dishes washed up and there is a general bustle in the house which I find hard to counter. It’s saps my creativity and I lose my train of thought and writing becomes difficult and of course, retiring to my room to tap away on the computer always draws a guffaw and a rebuke from those about who seem to like to infer that I am obsessed with spending time on the internet. But what else would I be doing?!
I would surely be fighting with Linda’s kids for control of the television or reading a book or a newspaper or merely vegetating and staring into space, imagination taking over and transporting me to distant lands and times where I would be more than the mortal being I find myself to be.
My thoughts wander, disturbingly, back to my workplace. The moaning discomfort which torments me every time I think of the inevitability of my return is a stark reminder that mentally I am as stale as a piece of bread left out in the sun and a desire to retrieve more from life than I am currently getting from those eight waking hours during the week when I am required to work are, bit by bit, degrading my piece of mind.
I think about getting another job. Eight hours of misery, just by another name. What a life. Surviving such an ordeal, day by day, year by year until, gathering up a small enough stake which may see you survive until your expiry date, one finally bids the hulk of life which you have been living farewell, leaving you to travel the rest of the trail as well as you can with what you have.
I see the managers at work going about their jobs as if they were about to launch a nuclear attack, the fate of the world upon their shoulders. Or so it seems. Do they realise no one will ever thank them for their loyalty or their willingness to degrade and torment the staff which they oversee? At the end of the line they become nothing but an empty husk which life has passed by. Friendless, disrespected and abandoned. Why do they bother?
It seems to me that most jobs are the same. Hours of torment everyday for years on end by people who really don’t care much for what they are doing.
Of course there must be exceptions. I’m sure there are those out there who bounce out of bed every morning looking forward to what the day holds and knowing they will have done the right thing by their employer and sleep well with the understanding that none will ever complain that they could have or should have given more. Good luck to them but it isn’t in my line to think that way.
So what is a fellow to do?
For the moment I sit back and enjoy the solitude of my holidays, far from the trench warfare of my regular life which engulfs me for most of the year.
I hope and pray for relief from the mundane activities to which I must return but reality can wait for a little while longer.
Until the day I once again am forced to wander those demeaning corridors to which I devote my life, I will enjoy the remaining time here at home on holidays, riding, writing and laughing at the unfortunates who must continue to ensure the wheels keep turning on the ship of doom of which I am usually a part. I will be back with them soon enough.
So I will sign off from my pleasant perch and deprive the mosquitoes of a feast and return inside to the comfort of my room as bedtime calls and hope that all who read this blog can find enjoyment in what they do. Life is too short to be living in despair.
Have a nice evening.
It was stuffy inside so I thought bringing my little notebook computer outside to take advantage of the pleasant evening was just the ticket. The only problem I may encounter is the dying battery in this machine which is indicating a mere 57 minutes of life remaining. I better be quick!
It’s a little bit hard to write in the evenings. Dinner is to be prepared and dishes washed up and there is a general bustle in the house which I find hard to counter. It’s saps my creativity and I lose my train of thought and writing becomes difficult and of course, retiring to my room to tap away on the computer always draws a guffaw and a rebuke from those about who seem to like to infer that I am obsessed with spending time on the internet. But what else would I be doing?!
I would surely be fighting with Linda’s kids for control of the television or reading a book or a newspaper or merely vegetating and staring into space, imagination taking over and transporting me to distant lands and times where I would be more than the mortal being I find myself to be.
My thoughts wander, disturbingly, back to my workplace. The moaning discomfort which torments me every time I think of the inevitability of my return is a stark reminder that mentally I am as stale as a piece of bread left out in the sun and a desire to retrieve more from life than I am currently getting from those eight waking hours during the week when I am required to work are, bit by bit, degrading my piece of mind.
I think about getting another job. Eight hours of misery, just by another name. What a life. Surviving such an ordeal, day by day, year by year until, gathering up a small enough stake which may see you survive until your expiry date, one finally bids the hulk of life which you have been living farewell, leaving you to travel the rest of the trail as well as you can with what you have.
I see the managers at work going about their jobs as if they were about to launch a nuclear attack, the fate of the world upon their shoulders. Or so it seems. Do they realise no one will ever thank them for their loyalty or their willingness to degrade and torment the staff which they oversee? At the end of the line they become nothing but an empty husk which life has passed by. Friendless, disrespected and abandoned. Why do they bother?
It seems to me that most jobs are the same. Hours of torment everyday for years on end by people who really don’t care much for what they are doing.
Of course there must be exceptions. I’m sure there are those out there who bounce out of bed every morning looking forward to what the day holds and knowing they will have done the right thing by their employer and sleep well with the understanding that none will ever complain that they could have or should have given more. Good luck to them but it isn’t in my line to think that way.
So what is a fellow to do?
For the moment I sit back and enjoy the solitude of my holidays, far from the trench warfare of my regular life which engulfs me for most of the year.
I hope and pray for relief from the mundane activities to which I must return but reality can wait for a little while longer.
Until the day I once again am forced to wander those demeaning corridors to which I devote my life, I will enjoy the remaining time here at home on holidays, riding, writing and laughing at the unfortunates who must continue to ensure the wheels keep turning on the ship of doom of which I am usually a part. I will be back with them soon enough.
So I will sign off from my pleasant perch and deprive the mosquitoes of a feast and return inside to the comfort of my room as bedtime calls and hope that all who read this blog can find enjoyment in what they do. Life is too short to be living in despair.
Have a nice evening.
Strange Notations From a Laborious Life 