Life in my rut
Where do I place the blame if my life isn’t exciting (enough)? Is this akin to taking responsibility? How adult. How terrifying.
Each morning; nay, each day, I repeat the same actions. The moments of personal hygiene. The forlorn attempts to self-medicate, as if my putting a drop of chemically enhanced saline in my eye will modify the ravages of time. The decision, “To eat or not to eat”, that passes for breaking fast. The solitary march to my nearest bus stop, where I join others of my generation for the quiet (pensive) ride into the city centre. And, in my case, out the other side.
The day “in the trenches”; as if my workplace were equal to a battlefield. “No blood shed here” should be etched into the stone above the doorway. And after the required number of hours/minutes/seconds, a return to the home place. Long enough to write something here, before starting all over again.
Am I caught in a rut?
I’m old enough to say NO. This is how a responsive/responsible member of society is supposed to pass time. My motivation (please, it’s not just about the pay stub) is to ease the suffering of others. I have a role. Others will be left in a state of disarray if I don’t answer their (frantic) requests for support on our virtual battlefield.
I am the guy that you call when your computer no longer does what you want. Some call more often than others, but we are all equal. Without “the IT guy”, some would abandon their duty. And then where would the world be?
A small hint… in exactly the same state.
