Asinine Abstraction of Absurdity
And in my dreams I am running. From what, I can never tell, but I can never get very far. Typically it is a mundane situation at work, or I am involved in a fight with my hands trapped in cement. Either way, I am always powerless.
Frustration.
Endless frustration seems to be the dominating theme of my subconscious. I believe that this is the root of my restless sleep. During my day, I can keep it together and maintain an even keel. The frustrating undertones lie below the surface, and I can keep my inner turmoil somewhat under control. At night however, I am forced to take a back seat approach and let my demons run wild. A situation at work where nobody cares about the outcome but me. A fight in which every strike that I deal falls mere inches short. A chase by ghastly silhouettes in which I am constantly hindered and falling behind. Either way, I lose. I wake up before the crash, but I always lose.
Not quite sure what this means, other than I am obviously very much afraid of losing control. Interesting, considering my passion for escape.
Escape.
I found out yesterday that I am not going to be a part of one of the largest hotel chains in the world, but instead I am going to be part of one of the largest AV companies in the world. Decent trade, I suppose. Better equipment (I might finally get a Hog 300 or a Grand MA! Hopefully LED fixtures, MAC 1200s, training, etc.), better salary, better shows. If show production is the career that I want to pursue, than this is it. I believe the new company will have decent standard benefits, BUT I will lose some of the fringe benefits of being part of the Starwood group. For one, I don't think I will be able to utilize their rather generous room rate for associates. It has been almost three years since I have taken anything resembling a vacation. A trip to SLC with
[info]remcit
and Sailor Jerry is the last time Ol' Pat was out of town. I confess that I was maybe looking forward to getting out of town, but alas, the trap door opens and I am right back into reality again. Workaholics don't take vacations, fool.
Prison.
I am not going anywhere. I can't get the time off work.
So. Despite a latent desire to get away, I just can't. Hell, I don't even know how I'd take the first step. Thanks to past mistakes, I can barely even get out of Highlands Ranch.
Present.
Silence surrounds me and a spectacular late afternoon sun just reminded me that spring is indeed on the way. Distant, but near. I cannot help but feel a bit wistful as I sit here typing this. The late afternoon makes me think of only one thing: freedom. I used to have this, back before I became part of the problem. I have very little freedom anymore. I am not incarcerated, but I am closer than I have ever been. I walk down silent halls, deserted rooms, and I remember a time when there was life. Different groups come and go, and on these deserted nights, all I can think about are the times when I was alive. I will live again, this I am positive of. I am dormant right now, but I will be back.
Revolution.
For personal reasons, this is an important weekend for me. Call me a sappy sentimentalist, but I keep track of dates, and the lapse of time. This weekend, today, in fact, marks the ten year anniversary of my first weekend being involved in a shitty college internship which wound up costing me my college years, my twenties, and my soul. You never realize just how much you have lost until you are empty. The CU athletic department had a luncheon fundraiser at my hotel the other day, and all I could feel was regret. College was not supposed to be how I lived it. All I did the entire four years there was live in the future. All I could think of was life after graduation. SWP/CWP was going to give me the experience and the connections to really make it in the world. Well, if make it in the world as a fucking house painter was their goal, mission accomplished. I am not a house painter anymore, so I am lost. Clearly, the ‘management internship’ taught nothing but shit fueled lies and empty highs, so what now?
Matt, you failed me. You used me, and destroyed my soul. I understand your acknowledgement that SWP/CWP ruins lives. You are correct. BUT. Your shitty little business ventures ruined lives as well. I guess you cannot build a sustainable model without a generous reserve for turnover. Fair enough man, but come on. Cold calling will never get you to where you think you should be. Fucking moron, thinking that home services are going to make you rich, cashing in on the ideology before it even happens. How is the CLK 430 running Matt? Was it the same car I saw in the lot the other afternoon? You fucking poser. Want to know a secret? Whenever I get a call on my cell for Pro Works, I tell them that YOU are out of business. I don’t care if you are or not, I just like the way the phrase rolls off my tongue. I fucking hate you. You ruined my life and I will never be the same. I hate the fact that you have this much power over me, and mentally I can do nothing to block you. You and your sideshow family were instrumental figures in my formative years. I fucking hate you all. I am still not over what you did to me, and what you turned me into.
Recovery.
Lately I have been dealing with many conflicting issues. I cannot forgive my past. I do not know why, I am very happy with many things in my life, yet I am still dragging around the wreckage of who I used to be. I can't shake it, do not know why. I want nothing other than to be able to put my past to sleep and move on, yet I can't. I thought throwing away all the files, POs, contracts, pictures, clothing, etc. would heal the wound, but no. I thought destroying and replacing my old phone would burn the bridge, of course not. I thought getting rid of all three of the cars that I used during that time of my life would pull me out, but I just banged up my new one and now I am not even allowed to drive. I fucking hate emotional baggage because I do not carry it well. I internalize everything and gradually I rot from deep within my soul. This process began years ago, and I really do not know how to stop it. I don't want to bash CU, some of the best years of my life took place there. I just would like the last seven years of my life back. Regret is unhealthy, I know, but I could certainly do with a different experience of my twenties.
Exodus.
I will live again. And I will not share my new life with the state of Colorado. They have sucked just about all the life out of me, and they are still not through. As soon as this DUI is behind me, I am leaving this place for good. I do not want another penny of my money going to the state of Colorado. I want to go someplace where for once, I am not the minority. I wish to reside somewhere where Republicans are not dominant. Pacific northwest is my current interest. We shall see, now won't we, fellow space travelers? I will keep you in the loop as always. Either way, I am dead to this place, and I am just waiting for my body to catch up with my mind.
Inevitability.
I suppose all the misfortune that I encountered last year was deserved. The facial destruction, the chipped tooth, the dui, the dog bite, the thrashed car, the endless financial burden, the familial tension, and the gradual isolation. I am getting what I deserve. I am paying my dues for a life lived below expectations. I hope this is not forever, and there is not a day or a moment that goes by where I am not crushed by regret. This forever was always meant to be.
Patient Saint
Frustration.
Endless frustration seems to be the dominating theme of my subconscious. I believe that this is the root of my restless sleep. During my day, I can keep it together and maintain an even keel. The frustrating undertones lie below the surface, and I can keep my inner turmoil somewhat under control. At night however, I am forced to take a back seat approach and let my demons run wild. A situation at work where nobody cares about the outcome but me. A fight in which every strike that I deal falls mere inches short. A chase by ghastly silhouettes in which I am constantly hindered and falling behind. Either way, I lose. I wake up before the crash, but I always lose.
Not quite sure what this means, other than I am obviously very much afraid of losing control. Interesting, considering my passion for escape.
Escape.
I found out yesterday that I am not going to be a part of one of the largest hotel chains in the world, but instead I am going to be part of one of the largest AV companies in the world. Decent trade, I suppose. Better equipment (I might finally get a Hog 300 or a Grand MA! Hopefully LED fixtures, MAC 1200s, training, etc.), better salary, better shows. If show production is the career that I want to pursue, than this is it. I believe the new company will have decent standard benefits, BUT I will lose some of the fringe benefits of being part of the Starwood group. For one, I don't think I will be able to utilize their rather generous room rate for associates. It has been almost three years since I have taken anything resembling a vacation. A trip to SLC with
[info]remcit
and Sailor Jerry is the last time Ol' Pat was out of town. I confess that I was maybe looking forward to getting out of town, but alas, the trap door opens and I am right back into reality again. Workaholics don't take vacations, fool.
Prison.
I am not going anywhere. I can't get the time off work.
So. Despite a latent desire to get away, I just can't. Hell, I don't even know how I'd take the first step. Thanks to past mistakes, I can barely even get out of Highlands Ranch.
Present.
Silence surrounds me and a spectacular late afternoon sun just reminded me that spring is indeed on the way. Distant, but near. I cannot help but feel a bit wistful as I sit here typing this. The late afternoon makes me think of only one thing: freedom. I used to have this, back before I became part of the problem. I have very little freedom anymore. I am not incarcerated, but I am closer than I have ever been. I walk down silent halls, deserted rooms, and I remember a time when there was life. Different groups come and go, and on these deserted nights, all I can think about are the times when I was alive. I will live again, this I am positive of. I am dormant right now, but I will be back.
Revolution.
For personal reasons, this is an important weekend for me. Call me a sappy sentimentalist, but I keep track of dates, and the lapse of time. This weekend, today, in fact, marks the ten year anniversary of my first weekend being involved in a shitty college internship which wound up costing me my college years, my twenties, and my soul. You never realize just how much you have lost until you are empty. The CU athletic department had a luncheon fundraiser at my hotel the other day, and all I could feel was regret. College was not supposed to be how I lived it. All I did the entire four years there was live in the future. All I could think of was life after graduation. SWP/CWP was going to give me the experience and the connections to really make it in the world. Well, if make it in the world as a fucking house painter was their goal, mission accomplished. I am not a house painter anymore, so I am lost. Clearly, the ‘management internship’ taught nothing but shit fueled lies and empty highs, so what now?
Matt, you failed me. You used me, and destroyed my soul. I understand your acknowledgement that SWP/CWP ruins lives. You are correct. BUT. Your shitty little business ventures ruined lives as well. I guess you cannot build a sustainable model without a generous reserve for turnover. Fair enough man, but come on. Cold calling will never get you to where you think you should be. Fucking moron, thinking that home services are going to make you rich, cashing in on the ideology before it even happens. How is the CLK 430 running Matt? Was it the same car I saw in the lot the other afternoon? You fucking poser. Want to know a secret? Whenever I get a call on my cell for Pro Works, I tell them that YOU are out of business. I don’t care if you are or not, I just like the way the phrase rolls off my tongue. I fucking hate you. You ruined my life and I will never be the same. I hate the fact that you have this much power over me, and mentally I can do nothing to block you. You and your sideshow family were instrumental figures in my formative years. I fucking hate you all. I am still not over what you did to me, and what you turned me into.
Recovery.
Lately I have been dealing with many conflicting issues. I cannot forgive my past. I do not know why, I am very happy with many things in my life, yet I am still dragging around the wreckage of who I used to be. I can't shake it, do not know why. I want nothing other than to be able to put my past to sleep and move on, yet I can't. I thought throwing away all the files, POs, contracts, pictures, clothing, etc. would heal the wound, but no. I thought destroying and replacing my old phone would burn the bridge, of course not. I thought getting rid of all three of the cars that I used during that time of my life would pull me out, but I just banged up my new one and now I am not even allowed to drive. I fucking hate emotional baggage because I do not carry it well. I internalize everything and gradually I rot from deep within my soul. This process began years ago, and I really do not know how to stop it. I don't want to bash CU, some of the best years of my life took place there. I just would like the last seven years of my life back. Regret is unhealthy, I know, but I could certainly do with a different experience of my twenties.
Exodus.
I will live again. And I will not share my new life with the state of Colorado. They have sucked just about all the life out of me, and they are still not through. As soon as this DUI is behind me, I am leaving this place for good. I do not want another penny of my money going to the state of Colorado. I want to go someplace where for once, I am not the minority. I wish to reside somewhere where Republicans are not dominant. Pacific northwest is my current interest. We shall see, now won't we, fellow space travelers? I will keep you in the loop as always. Either way, I am dead to this place, and I am just waiting for my body to catch up with my mind.
Inevitability.
I suppose all the misfortune that I encountered last year was deserved. The facial destruction, the chipped tooth, the dui, the dog bite, the thrashed car, the endless financial burden, the familial tension, and the gradual isolation. I am getting what I deserve. I am paying my dues for a life lived below expectations. I hope this is not forever, and there is not a day or a moment that goes by where I am not crushed by regret. This forever was always meant to be.
Patient Saint