2016-08-26

Bus Stops

Today's pre-bedtime homework:

It is one of those strange times in life again.

I remember a similar period in 1999, about sixteen years ago. When I realised why cultural anthropology was interesting - it was a lonely time, having been uprooted as a teenager from a metropolitan private school, and then being parked in a smallish town for two years. So poignant was that period that it became the most interesting subject I could yank out of my ass for college application essays soon afterwards. Loneliness turned to hate, and complaints, and a generally anti-social disposition... so much so that I ended up caring less about going to college at all, given the apparent futility of trying to do so. In fact when I did end up at college about 18 months later, I was immediately disappointed by the quality of my peers and resigned myself to four years of independent study - I almost lopped off the last two years, because the entire project seemed like a complete waste of time. I stayed only because I was being paid to finish.

Of all the projects I have worked on since, adorned by the ups and downs of social life, the current project comes closest to drowning me once again in despair. However, as always, I have structured my understanding of this an opportunity which is self-funding, for its duration. That being said, the permafrost of boredom is only exaggerated now that I play a role of leadership, corporate, social, artistic, what have you, as there is far less time for distractions that there was in highschool. There is no time to learn a new musical instrument. There is time for sleep, and physical exercise, and feeding, and cleanliness (what luxuries, indeed) - just about all other responsibilities are outsourced, which basically keeps me at a living wage. And then there is the endless work of providing counsel, directions, and muscle to two or three departments, composed of staff who are all learning to do certain things for the first time. Or they may be averse to learning, which is where complications may arise.

In any event, the mind gets bored and invents devices to keep itself amused. It thaws out frozen relationships into a putrescent substrate of local biomes - the stench is everywhere. Filth spreads contagiously like a bad habit. The last stores of quality once hopeful now lost. Destroyed by the crisis of chance abominations. So much wealth is gone, never to grow again, until fate turns otherwise. The cries for help go under quickly. Stabbed to death by agitated ears - at full liberty to contain their own freedom. Each aspires to the most that she can achieve. And so when love is absent, limbs are weary, and the vitamins fail to deliver any sort of vitality... ah, well then, we know that we've driven the system to local maxima, some artificial efficiency, which demonstrates that it can go no further. Only time will show a way.

Why do I often find myself in love at bus stops? Because I grew up waiting. Watching the world very closely. And then now and then, there was someone else to watch it with. We walk, and walk, until we reach a place to rest.

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