I'm bored. (no, that doesn't mean that I don't have enough work, that's
not what the word means)
And I keep experiencing Thomas Wolfe
-like thoughts about the impossibility
to know anyone, the ineluctable human loneliness.
To return from the tropics to the senseless redundancy of corporate life
is depressing enough, but to return amidst the turmoil of the past few
days is emotionally crippling. For most people, vacations provide much
needed rest to reorder and refocus their lives. They return to work suntanned
and determined having realigned their goals with those of the company.
For me, though, vacations are catalysts to doubt and indecision. They
provide time for the mind to identify its self-protecting delusions which
make an endless string of cloned days seem tolerable. And while that sounds
noble, it accomplishes nothing more than inducing an emotional stasis,
a deadlock of goals and desires. No worry, though, in a few days I'll
be singing the virtues of resistance, the greatness that lingers "five
steps from tyranny" and "close to the threshold of the danger
of servitude." The human mind has a silly way of justifying everything
4am last night, I decide that my wardrobe looked too 'grown up,' so,
I put in and order to the skate shop:
Maturity is just another way to spell lost.