Myriad

I started a new job today.

I'm working behind a bar serving drinks and today was my first day.

I know it's not the greatest job in the world. I know I won't be making bucketloads of money. I know I'll be spending hours on my feet cleaning up after drunks and layabouts. I know none of these mean shit.

I know that there aren't many truly great jobs out there that exist and the only reason most people work anywhere is because they need to eat. I know I don't need buckets full of money and I really don't need much to get by. I know weariness comes with any job, shit it comes with any life.

I'm glad the people I work with appear to be "not dicks". I'm glad that at the end of a shift I can sit down with a co-worker and a beer and talk shit for awhile before I have to come home to an empty house. I'm glad I can call my boss 'mate', instead of 'sir' and I'm glad the owner swears and talks shit more than I do.

Most of all I'm glad I got a peak down a co-workers shirt. I don't think she noticed

Standin' in the desert
Sun is goin' down.
The sky is crimson
And the road is brown.

Trackin through the dust
And the open plain.
It's been a while
Since this world's seen rain.

Coyote's blood is leaking
through my brain.
Darkness is before me
But I feel no shame.

Welcome back darkness
Pacify my soul,
Bring back my innocence
Cut the cord, from which I hang.

Release me from this state
Return me to where once I was,
I must fulfil my fate,
My destiny's no news to me.

Welcome back darkness
Send me from this world,
Erase my emptiness
Stop this pain, set me free.

So the question comes to mind. Will anyone actually read this? Also, will anyone care once they do?

I'm hoping there will be something worth reading. I'm hoping this won't be a colossal waste of time. I'm hoping that this may actually inspire me to be more creative. I'm hoping...

So do I have anything to say? Good question. Most of what I would say you've heard. My opinions are mostly recycled. Brilliant thoughts stolen from minds more brilliant and more creative than mine. Something about the shoulders of giants.

I've felt a weight growing. I'm beginning to learn that there are prices to be paid if you choose to walk a different path. I'm talking about emotional prices. Guilt, fear, and the occasional fit of depression. It takes it toll. Particularly when those around you can't, or won't accept your choices. Two thousand plus years of bullshit brainwashing crap built up to make me feel like a shithole. Would it really be a bad thing if I never got that "great job" and started making shitloads of money. I like to think that it'll be alright. Everyone I meet who has a steady nine-to-five job that isn't their passion and just pays the bills seems a little empty to me. From what I've been able to observe working a steady job kills a part of you that you can never get back. I've seen people try and replace that part with food, or drink, or sports, or family. Anything so they can take their minds off the emptiness. Their greatest fear becomes the fear of themselves. That empty part of them that used to want to be a dancer, or a poet.

I get told, "Get a proper job", "When are you going to finish University?", "When are you going to get married?", "You're at an age where should start thinking about getting serious and settling down". My usual response to these statements is silence. I've given up responding. "Getting serious", what the fuck is that?

So what you're saying I should do is find a job that I hate to make money because I need to get serious. I should spend the rest of my life shuffling into a shitty job five days a week just so I can get the weekend off (assuming the boss doesn't make me come in on Saturday). I realise I have to eat. I'm not a complete moron, money is necessary for survival. However, there is a difference between a job and a life (or between a job and a career - thanks Hinty).

There is something about living in the suburbs (it gnaws on me everyday), everyone is working so hard to be just like everyone else. They're proud of the way their lawns look and how clean their cars are and the beauty of their suburban kingdom.

When you're little you usually spend most of your free time playing with toys. If you didn't have toys to play with you would get bored, that would usually lead to making your own fun. Childish imagination needs only the weakest of nudges to get going. As you get older, your toys start to disappear. Your imagination gets ground down by the monotony of school and parental discipline or indifference. So when you get to an age when you can afford a little of life's luxuries you start to replace your toys. Men buy hardware, cars, sports accessories. Women buy clothes, make-up, home appliances. We buy toys because toys are easy. Having toys means we don't have to have an imagination. Having toys means we don't have to stop and be still and be inside ourselves. Because that would be too scary, too real, too "serious". The great mass of people shuffle through life as unthinking and frightened. Frightened of death, frightened of getting fired, frightened of getting divorced, frightened of god. Some of those people are friends of mine, some are family, some are passing acquaintances. Some I love. Some I don't. Some I'm indifferent to. Some think they're happy. Some actually are. Me on the other hand, I'm trying. I'm trying real hard not to become one of them. Perhaps that means a change of venue. Perhaps that means being a disappointment to those around me. Perhaps that means an early grave. I don't know. But I do know that the day I stop thinking and let the fear in and let the toys take over my life, I may as well be dead. I maybe a disappointment and shiftless and lazy and poor, but dammit at least I can look back and not have regrets about what would have been if I didn't have the mortgage and the kids. At least I won't be able to blame or resent anyone for where I end up.