Unrequited Potential

I should be doing something else with my life. This job I have is making me feel sick. Do you remember Joe Versus the Volcano? That’s how I feel, like Joe. The fluorescent lights in here are killing me. There’s very little beauty around my crappy little cardboard and carpet looking cubicle.

I get to wondering why I haven’t been promoted and then it occurs to me in a flash. I hate this. I hate what I do.  I feel dirty and worn out. I feel like those old gym shoes, the ones you wore five years ago and had all kinds of adventures on, but now just don’t have the heart to throw away because you’ve been through so much together. So I sit in the dark closet, slowly falling to pieces while your new gym shoes have all the fun.

This hatred for ones career forces you to look back and try to figure out where it went wrong. When I was young I thought I would be a famous actor. I thought I’d be a big star and there’d be posters of my movies on the bedroom walls of the children of my former classmates. So I didn’t really study for anything else. I had no other plans, no fall back career ideas.  I really thought I was going to be an actor. But then I discovered that my heart wasn’t what it needed to be in order to be successful at it. So, with no back-up plan, I wound up in the insurance industry.  I thought I’d just do it for a while until I discovered fame somewhere else. It was always just a job and nothing more.

As I sit here now, working this out, one word pops into my head, “Passion”. What am I passionate about? What really moves me? Motivates me to do something? And I can’t think of anything. It’s pretty amazing that I’ve made it this far in my life and yet feel less than mediocre about my position in it.  I think my greatest motivating factor is just not to be hassled by anything.  Yeah, don’t hassle me. I’ll move mountains not to be hassled with. (What an odd word. Hassle).

I’ve allowed myself to become stagnant. I’m covered with rotting mold and the smell is clouding my brain. If only some millionaire would pay me millions of dollars to jump into a Volcano, which inexplicably spits me out onto some very expense luggage in the sea with a pretty Meg Ryan. Let’s face it she looks like Mum-Ra now. (What happened Meg?)

At least I’m writing with more frequency thanks to this blogging thing. I appreciate those that read my ramblings and hope they can see or feel a little of themselves in my incessant whining. I sure do whine a lot. So I appreciate your patience as I sort through the shambling, doddering, complaining old man that appears to be my emotional content. We’re going somewhere I’m sure, I just can’t see it on the map.