Paraphrased from the Old Man, but still doesn’t lose any of it’s punch. Thus is the crisis of the individualist. Not having a fictional or otherwise ‘higher power’ or ’superior being’ imposed upon my sense of self, right and wrong, and purpose in this world, I am forced to find that ’something to live for’ within my own being.
And the downfall is that when shit hits the proverbial fan, there is no sacred text, no omnipotent father (or mother) figure to turn to, whom will provide comfort, healing, or direction. Nothing for me exists but a cold, harsh reality. And when the compass is lost or broken, it is up to me, and ONLY ME to re-associate with my reason to live, that which gives me purpose. And sometimes it takes a fucking long time.
In my case, a time period that is quite nearing one year now. To wit, I took a day job to ensure ends are met. After a dismal 2006 film season for me, I came to a cold economic reality. I needed something more stable in the short term to make ends meet. Hence the day job. Sad thing is that it only kept me barely economically afloat to now. And for nearly nine months, I’ve been ranting, bitching, moaning, and searching for at least something better paying. Then it hit me. Most of the film electricians are also licensed electricians. And the only feasable fix (as I don’t have $9000 plus living expenses to go back to school for four months full time) is to apprentice at BC Hydro. And I can make significantly more training there than I do right now being a bitch in a five ton.
As such, I have the waiting game. Day one was today, with no word as of yet. But that’s not the only thing pressing on the soul. In the last fourteen days, I was in an accident in the truck (though not my fault thankfully) in which someone tried to pass me on the right while I was mid turn going right. What a twat. I had to change my spark plugs (to which I broke one and had to buy two more) and realized still more of my mechanics tools had been pilfered while staying at a shared residence a few years back. So more money spent there. I dropped my mobile in the loo. The list goes on. I really started to get the feeling that someone out there doesn’t want me to get on with this. And not the brain dead gits that I work for either.
It is very easy for me to see there is no hope. Aside from Dawn, Tara, and Adina, there’s not much else out here for me, short of figurative slave labour. In the current state, I pretty much exist to drive the wheels of commerce for someone else, a quite nauseating notion for the individual. A definite contrast to the philosophy I grew up with, having a sense of enjoyment of life. Not much aside from the aforementioned as a positive. I deserve more than this.
So what still brings enjoyment? In the winter, anticipation of skiing and the new season of Battlestar Galactica kept hope alive. Now, I think I’m the only person that is wishing the torrential Vancouver winter’s hasty return. Not that I enjoy the rain, but it will bring both which are missing back into the fold. The reminder of why I’m in this ‘Brave New World’ to begin with. To foster the individual. Once the good of the self is taken care of, the good of others will be that much easier to ascertain.
Giving up is NOT an option. Somewhere, within my troubled soul, I must find hope. Hope that this next step I’ve chosen will come to fruition. Hope that my ability will come to practical fold. Hope that I will finally rise above mediocrity.
“You’re born, you live and you die. There are no do-overs, no second chances to make things right if you frak ‘em up the first time. Not in this life anyway. Like I said, you make your choices and you live with them. And in end you are those choices.” –Kendra Shaw
Interdum vos ut volvo ferrus six
