Monday, January 26, 2009

The Breaking of the World

"Lo, she was alone, at the breaking of the world..."

I sat outside last night as low clouds moved overhead, frigid temperatures making my breath puff out in sad white bursts. The clouds were moving from west to east, and crackling most eerily as they did so. I'd never heard a sound so mysterious and ominous in all my life.

For decades, young American kids have packed their tatty gym bags and headed out west, as if whatever was ailing them would be remedied by a sharp blast of Pacific air. Now, as unemployment soars close to double digits, a good number of those kids sit simpering on their back porches, dreaming of better days back home. Oregon is my chosen home and i defend that fact fiercely. But as the clouds moved back east last night, it seemed that the world was moving me back home, breaking my resolve and liberal-bubble contentment. But i won't do it. I will fight; start a daycare, or a dogwalking business, if i have to. I will rip the warm covers off each morning with a fresh burst of energy, to do battle with the dark duo of soaring unemployment and media hype, and find myself some way to make a living. Other people are doing it, why can't i? I am still employed and yet i look at the waiter at the patisserie and envy his confident bustle. He's employed, now why shouldn't i be?

Friends tell me i am bitter that my hippie dream world only lived to see the light of about one half-day. Hark, you know me so well. But this roil in my gut has always been what motivates me best. Friends, i apologize to you for the harsh brush i paint my life with. I didn't mean to cut you with it too. You motivate me with your love and positivity, and don't think for a minute that it's not appreciated, just because it comes back out my wordhole as spite and malice. It wasn't directed toward you.

I'm just fighting, fighting...

fighting for my life and all i ever dreamed it could be...

1 comment:

sascha said...

a wise man once told me, you gotta have a healthy combo of the Buddha Palm and the Mak Hand. Buddha Palm what you caint control, Mak Hand what you cain ...