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Erased from Ch. XXVIII of Nerves and Common Sense (1925) by Annie Payson Call
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All posts in category ennui
foregone conclusions foreclosed on
In the morning I ride my bike with reckless abandon. It is my time, sometimes my only time. Today I met a friend. These things happen, on occasion. We talked as we rode downtown together. Without a bike I’d be lost. When I step off the pedals, the next 8 hours blur past. [Sit and click. Sit and click. Clatter of keyboard.] My friend must leave again. Plans did not materialize. Alternate plans were made. But he must leave to complete them. It’s sad. He was glad to be back. And now he must go. It’s not easy to uproot and grow roots somewhere else. These things take time. I know. Sometimes you get lucky and it’s easier, but sometimes the soil is dead and grey. I hope he may return someday, though I may be gone if he does. I hope I’m gone. This city wears me down. My roots are dry and withered.
The other day Em Ell and I met a cat. He was outside our back door with a long-ago torn ear. He was small, grey and white with a narrow face and yellow eyes. A friendly cat. He rubbed on my legs and rolled on his back. I gave him food and water but he did not want them, at least not while we still stood there. He just wanted a little attention, like so many of us do.
I respect the subtlety of cats. It’s now been 8 months since cancer took my cat. It feels like much longer. Perhaps because I had lived for so long before her death with cats in my life. Now there are none underfoot and I miss them. A cat’s affection is a reward, something earned, not given out lightly. That warm, soft weight in your lap soothes much pain. And a litter box is such a tiny cross to bear in return. Maybe one day I’ll be lucky enough to feel that weight again.
Outside is grey and raindrops fall. Inside I too am grey. Though I can’t rightly say why.
Posted by sean on April 18, 2012
https://sd-stewart.com/2012/04/18/foregone-conclusions-foreclosed-on/
>not again…
>These are the words of a bored person. Well, perhaps bored isn’t the correct descriptor. While it is true that my work bores me, I am not bored with my life. However, work still takes up a fair percentage of my life, so therefore bored might be the right word after all. I suppose it’s probably a question of semantics. And percentages. Which means that, if I cared, I could probably work out some kind of mathematical model to prove whether or not, in absolute terms, I actually am bored or not. But I don’t (care, that is).
I am forever in a conundrum because I do not want challenges in my work, because generally challenges come in the form of responsibilities. And responsibilities make me nervous. I don’t like being nervous because then I am stressed. And I hate stress. So I take jobs that don’t have much in the way of responsibilities and then I get bored.
I don’t like to be relied upon because then I am forced to be reliable day in and day out. And I just can’t guarantee that. I don’t want to feel like I need to be at work at a certain time every day or else holy hell will break out or, god forbid, I’ll miss a meeting. I’m not interested in leaping out of bed at 6:30 AM every day. I enjoy waking up gradually, and doing a fair amount of staring at the ceiling or gazing through the trees at the clouds. I also prefer to spend at least an hour watching the birds as I drink my coffee.
It’s not that I don’t like to work, per se. I’m just not interested in the types of jobs that modern society has to offer. It would be different if my job was to say, gather enough food to eat for the day and build a shelter to sleep in. That would be interesting and meaningful, and would require skills I could use to survive in any number of situations, such as the coming ecological holocaust.
Well, I better go see what the day has to offer.
Posted by sean on October 23, 2007
https://sd-stewart.com/2007/10/23/not-again/
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