So yeh, yesterday we had our first snowstorm of the season, which in this case was just so typical. Everyone got in a big old uproar, what with the running to the grocery store for bread and milk and eggs and the closing of the schools and everything. Predictions were for a few inches. It wound up being a dusting and not more.
I guess people stayed home and made french toast!
I thought it’d be more impressive. That’s what happens when you watch the news too much and listen to people too long instead of looking to history. According to the meteorologists. the potential was there. Although I fought it, I did cancel the day and stay home, which I’m known to do. Because I can. I did have an outside-the-home work commitment but also write from home, and if I’m having a good all-around day doing that, that’s the wiser choice.
Any reason to move ahead on that front.
But I was hoping for some action! Action of the sort one needs midway through winter. Action of the sort one needs when they’re fighting cabin fever and wanna punch a hole in the wall or do a polar bear swim or open the windows and yell “I’m mad as hell and I’m not gonna take it anymore!” You know, like they did in the movie Network? Which by the way if you haven’t seen I highly recommend, and although it’s from the seventies is particularly riveting and the premise still eerily applies. And Faye Dunaway is so worth just WATCHING. I’m overstating the symptoms of the fever here for effect but winter, winter, winter BLEH. Not my favorite time of year which I’ve stated countless times, and will many more.
I’m careening nowhere fast here.
As of late I’ve been hyperfocused and my purpose razor-sharp. This despite what could be called insurmountable and even deemed laughable odds. I’m usually on my game more than most, particularly as the underdog and “dark horse”. I happen to be pretty reflective about it all at the moment and am exploiting this fact as fuel for the fire to forge ahead. For this I feel no need now to do anything but a ring around the rosie. And that’s quite the luxury. I think of it as a reward and a prize. An indulgence. Albeit a temporary and fleeting one. I do live by the adage, “what have you done for me lately?”, and when you work hard you need to come up for air and pat yourself on the back right? Do you do that? It’s purely tactical. If I don’t reward myself, who will? There may be a hunk of meat hanging from a tree out there somewhere intended especially for me, but right now I just plain can’t see it. I can’t rely on anyone else to build me up or push me along, no way. I can’t look for praise or validation or a house of cards or empty platitudes to prop me up or motivate me. They don’t last. And don’t affect the end game if there even is one.
The fire within.
So things have been humming along steadily for where I am at this hour. The reward is not in the arrival but in the experience of getting there, no? And in the style and manner in which one travels? When you do what I do and under the circumstances in which I do them, and in the insular and solitary world where I’m forever trying to be a better man and to keep things going without throwing off my clothes and running naked down the street, it makes it all a helluva lot sweeter. Not that I’d ever do the naked thing of course, what with my exaggerated sense of decorum. Besides, it’s too cold out! And don’t misunderstand: when I write I’m alone, but never lonely. I’m full plugged in— connected and engaged —with myself, the universe and you. Are you flattered? Or laughing? You oughta be, it’s funny! I mean how life works. I’m wary to ever take it all too seriously. As one Charles Bukowski said, although I have a general disdain for quoting the dead: “Find what you love and let it kill you”. That’s how I live. Every day. Deliberately. It’s a blessing and a curse. And it could be said the source of my particular brand of madness.