So this is what they call dramatic irony
So all this working business seems to be giving me an excuse to basically do nothing else except sleeping and usually eating. It's amazing how much more it sucks up your life than, you know, not working.
I'm behind on every conceivable project, task, and maintenance duty outside of what I actually get paid for, and my reaction has largely been to tunnel deeper into a kind of hibernation. I am hiding from both complexity and routine, and what's left after that seems to be a large amount of come-what-may. Not in the Moulin Rouge sense, in the lack-of-control-and-dinsinclination-to-acquire-same sense. This, I think, is why the family is such an efficient little unit of social organization-- without the down time and random encounters of the college life, it's sort of hard to have any social contact at all unless it's your regularly scheduled programming, so to speak. And really I have no problem with that. There's no way I have the patience and bright-eyed eagerness necessary to relive a freshmanlike making of all-new friends. I just want to be myself anymore, and I'm not really interested in toddling after a newcomer until they decide I'm cool enough to hang out with.
Granted, the default isn't what it used to be. It's not really happiness so much as marking time (ah, that theme again; so that's why I'm here) and the bad part is that it's not obviously temporary anymore. This, as they say, is it. And while I'm not complaining, I am a little nonplussed. Now what? I don't do stable and continuous. I'm spontaneous! Transitory! In perpetual motion, transforming from one season to the next! No?
The day-to-day is enjoyable, don't get me wrong. I like what I do. I'm good at it; I'm upwardly mobile, sort of. I am pumping productively in the big machine without bourgeois malcontentment. It's more a question of being turned loose on a long road through fair flat country. I can turn off anytime I want. But to go where?
I expect everything to be dynamic. I guess if you wait around long enough, it is.
I'm behind on every conceivable project, task, and maintenance duty outside of what I actually get paid for, and my reaction has largely been to tunnel deeper into a kind of hibernation. I am hiding from both complexity and routine, and what's left after that seems to be a large amount of come-what-may. Not in the Moulin Rouge sense, in the lack-of-control-and-dinsinclination-to-acquire-same sense. This, I think, is why the family is such an efficient little unit of social organization-- without the down time and random encounters of the college life, it's sort of hard to have any social contact at all unless it's your regularly scheduled programming, so to speak. And really I have no problem with that. There's no way I have the patience and bright-eyed eagerness necessary to relive a freshmanlike making of all-new friends. I just want to be myself anymore, and I'm not really interested in toddling after a newcomer until they decide I'm cool enough to hang out with.
Granted, the default isn't what it used to be. It's not really happiness so much as marking time (ah, that theme again; so that's why I'm here) and the bad part is that it's not obviously temporary anymore. This, as they say, is it. And while I'm not complaining, I am a little nonplussed. Now what? I don't do stable and continuous. I'm spontaneous! Transitory! In perpetual motion, transforming from one season to the next! No?
The day-to-day is enjoyable, don't get me wrong. I like what I do. I'm good at it; I'm upwardly mobile, sort of. I am pumping productively in the big machine without bourgeois malcontentment. It's more a question of being turned loose on a long road through fair flat country. I can turn off anytime I want. But to go where?
I expect everything to be dynamic. I guess if you wait around long enough, it is.