When Yer Twenty Two / The Law of the Vital Few / Diagnostics
June 23, 2010, 12:47 am
Filed under: Uncategorized

[One of my favorite irrational thoughts is that I am totally unemployable if I leave my current position. I picture myself resigned to work at my first job, in a drab polyester uniform surrounded by high school students. This exact thought makes it apparent I need to go; something about this perspective is really, really warped.]

Getting out of the shower this morning, something clarified, again. I don’t feel like I’m growing or learning, and I feel to young for this to happen yet. The happiest times of my life are marked by challenge met with rapid growth, the 80 percent phase. And yet in the final twenty percent portion, thus far, not as much satisfaction. Not to be mistaken for burn out, this is boredom.

I know the 20 percent point looms, the necessity of commitment, but I’m unsure what is worth the effort of attempted mastery. I don’t feel it here; logical examination, for me, has demonstrated there are too many castles made of sand. Not to say all good work must lead to construction of something, but uncomfortable work that produces something of substance is different from uncomfortable work in an insular community that provides questionable value to those relying upon it. Rationalize away, but, the fine point rules any society adopts don’t create any moral imperative, they simply reinforce broader decisions.

[The memorable careers in this field don’t appear to be plied by those who remain in it, but those who reject it and apply the knowledge and skills gained from it to something else. This, of course, is really bizarre if you think about it, and may be part of what is kindling this questioning.]

Sometimes I just think about making sandwiches and that I might be happy making beautiful sandwiches for people every day.


Last night I rounded up change in my apartment. I had created this idea in my mind that I wouldn’t spend any money electronically for the rest of the month. I generally suck at compliance with these types of things, so I keep trying, a small experiment. So, anyways, I was settled into the idea of living off what I had when the overwhelming urge to call L.G. hit me. I love his voice, I really do. The relaxed cadence, the tone, the alveolar trill that slips in periodically. It fits his personality so well. So I found $10 in coinage, sorting through purses and bags, and went out for a calling card.


I actually only have a week for the Final Pack, i.e. to figure out once and for all what comes with and what will be kept elsewhere and is coming home on the train with me. Anything that misses the train has to fit in the suitcase or carry on, and under 50 lbs, or it doesn’t go. The initial liberation fantasies have turned more practical; it’s unclear if this is good or bad.

As soon as the final pack is completed, it’s time to start seriously clearing stuff out. At this point, I’m relying on online classified ads to hopefully entice strangers to come pick up my stuff, and maybe even pay me for it – saving the trouble of having to haul much anywhere. We’ll see how that goes…


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