I was told this would be my last twelve-hour Saturday. I'd keep at them if I didn't want to push my luck with my back. I'm already marvelling that I'm holding down my first full-time job in a two handfuls of years. I'm not sweating making the money for the move so much. But I still cannot shake the powerful doubt that I will find work in Seattle within two to three months. Since I can't drive myself so nuts about gathering the funds, I've moved onto focusing on getting a job there. Reality being that I think a narcoleptic squid would get work over me if it had experience and Microsoft Office skills. I have a dab of campus work o over a puddle of service industry jobs. I have no degree, and limited office skills in software. I'm actually pretty sure someone did hire a squid over me, becasue it had the better resume. Then the fact that American enconomy is tanking, well, tanking unless you are in the top wealth percentile. The only scare from the recession most of them got was they couldn't order a fifth course. I want to believe, but I feel this is something it'll take more faith than I have to in mathis blog simply because I've had trouble holding down thoughts because I keep wandering back to this. Honestly, I'm pretty pissed about this. For someone who tells people he thinks more laterally, I am cursed by entrenchent conditional and linear logic. For most of my life, I have been haunted by plans and hopes based solely on shaky "IF-THEN" propositions. If I get this diploma, then I will get work. If I get work, then I can become independent. If I do this or that, then I will get what I want. These statements become these absolute beatified external pillars that I must intensely and overdramatically focus my whole being on, which as you can guess is just about the least pleasant place to be if they do come out as false.
I just feel so hypocritical, in a way. I'm always shaking my head at the cavalcade of supermaterialists that I see daily, working slavishly so then they can have the right clothes, the best car, and the biggest home. How much different am I from them? I'm chasing my more intangible dreams down the same maze, hunting for different cheese. I'm upshifting my mindframe into the always uncertain waves of the future. I might be here, but all here is something to get me over there in time. As the Buddhists would say, my suffering comes from still grasping for the physical and impermanent. I can measure the phases in my lifes by the goals I set, and did little to improve the process, so many of those goals were never reached. This is not about gaining something. I should know this. It's about doing what is right for me and mine and doing it everyday. The passions of the process are empowered by meaning in the experience of process. I should do what I have to do. When I come to what must be done next, I will do all I will have to do to make it come to be. But until then, I should ride along meaning as I work this part of the process. And then. And then.... No then. I will live as one who loves to live and seeks freedom to just be, earning my way by being on the way. I know what my dreams are, they intensely express themselves in frenetic technicolor displays in my imagination. But what happens if I find more of my dreams in how I look at my dreams? I think back to the zen story I included in my last Monday entry, and it makes more sense. After becoming the Master, the Master now fetches wood and carries water, with compassion, reverence, and joy, but it is still just fetching wood and carrying water.
When the time comes, there will be no logically joined conditional propositions. There will be me, the great dark unknown, and the call to leap. I'm perfectly fine making the leap, getting across the abyss, but tripping and slamming my face into the far cliff. Well if it's funny, that is. Humor is Manic Passion told painfully and unmasked. I don't make people laugh, I tell then what I see, and then they laugh if they can handle it.
Okay bedtime. I've had a good purgative ramble on my blog, now to go make thge unity of small Jew and big bed.
Quod absurdum est.
I just feel so hypocritical, in a way. I'm always shaking my head at the cavalcade of supermaterialists that I see daily, working slavishly so then they can have the right clothes, the best car, and the biggest home. How much different am I from them? I'm chasing my more intangible dreams down the same maze, hunting for different cheese. I'm upshifting my mindframe into the always uncertain waves of the future. I might be here, but all here is something to get me over there in time. As the Buddhists would say, my suffering comes from still grasping for the physical and impermanent. I can measure the phases in my lifes by the goals I set, and did little to improve the process, so many of those goals were never reached. This is not about gaining something. I should know this. It's about doing what is right for me and mine and doing it everyday. The passions of the process are empowered by meaning in the experience of process. I should do what I have to do. When I come to what must be done next, I will do all I will have to do to make it come to be. But until then, I should ride along meaning as I work this part of the process. And then. And then.... No then. I will live as one who loves to live and seeks freedom to just be, earning my way by being on the way. I know what my dreams are, they intensely express themselves in frenetic technicolor displays in my imagination. But what happens if I find more of my dreams in how I look at my dreams? I think back to the zen story I included in my last Monday entry, and it makes more sense. After becoming the Master, the Master now fetches wood and carries water, with compassion, reverence, and joy, but it is still just fetching wood and carrying water.
When the time comes, there will be no logically joined conditional propositions. There will be me, the great dark unknown, and the call to leap. I'm perfectly fine making the leap, getting across the abyss, but tripping and slamming my face into the far cliff. Well if it's funny, that is. Humor is Manic Passion told painfully and unmasked. I don't make people laugh, I tell then what I see, and then they laugh if they can handle it.
Okay bedtime. I've had a good purgative ramble on my blog, now to go make thge unity of small Jew and big bed.
Quod absurdum est.
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