Two days to twenty-one.
Not a bad today, so far. For a few days I had managed to duck despair as it marched on its usual rounds of interference, and continued existing with a range of emotions not widely considered abnormal.
Gloom, however, settles in uninvited. You see, a mind not majorly occupied by thought tends to be inhabited by those familiar, parasitic reminders of past failure and future uncertainty. To avoid this, the brain steps in, clamoring to fill the head with things I find far more worthwhile than what I am supposed to be working on. Bombarding my head with such pleasures is both joy as it distances me from the miserable present; and also disconcerting because it only reaffirms the sense of being at a complete loss when confronted with all things accounting. I silently watch people, intently working at their desks. I am quite sure each person here has a different level of competence, but I don’t know why- they ALL look like they’re very good at their jobs (meanwhile I am thinking about how accurately Steinbeck comments on human nature and drift onward to the more existential line of queries on life I seem to have a lot of). That can’t be right, I tell myself, and quickly snap out of it. So I shrug, assuming they must all suck at something or the other; and I dismiss, with a touch of asperity, the nagging voice in my head asking me to get better at it too.
I realize that a dismissal like that makes me sound arrogant, and I laugh at how far from being arrogant I am, in actuality. I think for arrogance to manifest itself in a person’s character, there is a particular kind of energy and smug (over)confidence that is needed, neither of which my tired being can conjure at the moment.
The brain’s response I explained before is an action that, apart from being a deliberately induced distraction, also serves to reaffirm my acute discomfort at being among regular people. Writing, then, seems to be the tool of my subconscious to chisel the misshapen self-esteem into something with structure. An impromptu journal entry such as this sometimes singlehandedly keeps me sane.
I am pretty unsure of this post, but I think I am going to hit Publish anyway, just to keep this going. It is important to me to figure something out while writing, be open to a change of thought and overcome my discomfort in most situations. People don’t make it any easier though.
On my way back home, the sky was a magnificent scene, worthy of being painted and frozen in time. The sun was making love with the clouds, playing peek-a-boo and the way the rays shone out through the clouds- it was glorious- meant I was staring out of the window of the car like a hungry puppy who had just spotted a meaty bone. I suddenly felt much calmer, overwhelmed by the realization that everything is not quite so lost if you still have your sense of wonder with you. Others might immerse themselves in menial things, but if you can spot the magic when it pops up before your eyes, you are still whole, somewhere. And not as broken as you think. You just need to keep growing without losing hold of the important things.