Thursday, July 28, 2011

The Consolation Prize

I am having lots of negative thoughts this morning, trying to come to some peace about the various disappointments this week with jobs that I applied for or interviewed for or heard about or imagined.  What does it all really mean?  People have been a big part of the week's story too.  Old friends who seem clueless and newer friends who act out selfishly and strangely.  People often perplex me and it just might be my biggest dilemma in life.  Human intention is often cloaked in the folds of complex, sometimes dishonest, selfish and disjointed actions.  No kidding.

The day will shift and I shall move on.  However, I am tired of it.  Tired of the fight and tired of people in my life acting as if the fulfillment of their own desires is the sole purpose of their life.  No kidding. One old friend "schedules" her social time as if they were hair appointments, striving for the largest fun factor possible.  Weekend after weekend after weekend, "booked" is what she calls it.  No kidding.  Recently we were invited to join one of these "bookings" when one of the couples bailed.  We were offered the consolation prize of being able to step in as understudies.  Wow, enthralling. Sign me up.  Not.

Aside from all of the obtuse, frenetic, middle school drama that seems to go on around me with other people, I feel disconnected from others when no depth of human interactions is possible.  Coupled with an inability to find work, the Summer begins to rapidly tilt towards the edge of Fall.  And so, I am off to have some adventures, meet new people and hopefully leave the consolation prize to someone who will accept crumbs. 

It is tricky.  One must acknowledge that chicken scratch is what is offered, have your feelings about it, maybe walk the bottom of the trench for a while thinking about it, and then climb back out and head on out.  Keep the faith, walk down a different street, run, swim, get on an airplane.

1 comment:

  1. Dancing Carrot, I hear you; am going through the same thing--the phone that doesn't ring, the former warm circle of social activity dry as desert bones. For some odd reason, this morning I feel vibrant and alive. I pruned away dead roses in the garden, clipped off the spent daisies and gladiolas. Breathed. The call I was expecting yesterday did not come. The silence of the phone is deafening. Maybe it will ring today. Maybe not. Maybe this is not the right job for me. Somewhere in the deep I do know that I have value that's not predicated on my work. Hard to remember sometimes. Very hard. MM

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