Have I told you that I'm tired? I've been running around all fucking week to no avail. Keeping a steady regimen of cycling and by nine p.m. mountain standard time I'm ready to hit the fucking hay.
All day Friday I've been thinking about just sitting on my ass arguing that I've done more than my share this week and it's all in the hands of various, overworked human resources and payroll people trying to shoehorn in a few unfortunate people among their ranks for piss wages but treating the position like they're trying to hire on a fucking PhD at the Large Hadron Collider. For fuck's sake most of them are looking for a warm body to push a button when prompted by a machine!
Also it's so hard not to lie on resumes and applications but I'm not falling into that trap.
plundered garden, my thoughts grew
still roots poke through dead
Must be stronger than this.
When he had ended, the holy hermit was a moment silent, then said: 'My son, I have attended to thy story, and I know the maiden. I have myself seen her, as have many. Know, then, that her name, which she would not even permit thee to inquire, is Happiness. Thou saidst the truth to her, that she is capricious, for she imposeth conditions that man cannot fulfil, and delinquency is punished by desertion. She cometh only when unsought, and will not be questioned. One manifestation of curiosity, one sign of doubt, one expression of misgiving, and she is away! How long didst thou have her at any time before she fled?'
'Only a single instant,' answered Haita, blushing with shame at the confession. 'Each time I drove her away in one moment.'
'Unfortunate youth!' said the holy hermit, 'but for thine indiscretion thou mightst have had her for two.'
Of late I have been counting myself fortunate to be on the business end of some motivation which has always been given as "You can do anything you want". There's no telling what an exhilarating yet daunting sentiment that can be to myself.
To anyone.
My first question is simply "Where do I start?" There's so much to be done and I want to do it all for that delicious feeling of accomplishment and to see other people being proud of me. Rationally I shouldn't care but I'm not a hardcore objectivist offspring of Ayn Rand. Just a human being. Another question raised is why should I want to do anything more? The whole shock of being offered the world and told, "Go get 'em, tiger" is a scary proposition. What if I mess up? What if I fail? What if?
It takes great willpower to just do something for the sake of doing it. Excuses are the path of least resistance but at the dear price of happiness! One can be a true hero following their heart's desire regardless of friends's expectations. When someone actually fails their reward is the ability to say "I did it", meeting their eye and daring the other person to accomplish something other than engender derision.
The path of least resistance is writing about it and treasuring a small achievement when the payoffs are much greater when the risks are far more dear.
Aboard a mighty ocean liner with several women wearing white robes trimmed in sky blue. Looking over the railing I saw we were high in the air over a great canyon. Upon this revelation the ship began to list then plummetted keel-first towards the ground. With subconscious fortune our rapid descent was arrested meters from the surface.
My companions looked askance at my heated requests to embark from this odd craft and moments later a swift ascent brought us to our former altitude. The rest of my dream was a repetition of this motif.
