Three Days

            One would have thought that a three day weekend would be just the thing to recharge the old creative batteries and get the juices flowing. I think the opposite occurred however. This blank page has been staring at me for a little while now with little to…. um…. er…. …uh…. hm…. something. I think the weight of returning to work and sitting in this godforsaken cubicle all day has sapped whatever recharging might have happened. It’s hard to return to a mundane life after spending so much time trying to be a little better than average.

            The thought of calling people and asking them why they fell down or let their apartment catch on fire or why they ate that expired yogurt and why they feel someone else should pay for it seems disgusting to me today. Legitimately disgusting. The very idea of having to do this makes my hands ache and my forearms feel tired. My eyes seem to be crossing and I feel a wave of sleepiness coming over me.

            I was out yesterday with a few people who immediately lost interest as soon as I told them I do for a daily wage. I could have said anything. I should have said anything. I should have been like, “Oh, I’m a chair duster for the Chicago Symphony”, or, “I’m the guy that helps the guy that paints the lines in the streets”. Anything would have been more entertaining or interesting than Liability Claims Examiner. It’s like telling people you’re a leper with the most fingers.

            Mind you, I am not unhappy to have a job. In this economy and with the cost of just about everything, having a job is a good thing. Even if it’s a boring, terrible, mind numbing, soul sucking, and debasement of everything good and holy on a daily basis. It might seem as if I’m being a little harsh on this employment of mine. It’s true. I am being harsh. It’s just so damn hard to convince oneself to keep doing the same old crap everyday. Crap that is completely unrewarding in any way. (Other than a lousy paycheck that barely seems to last very long.)

            Over the long holiday weekend I felt slightly good about the life I have. I’ve got good friends that care about me whom I sometimes don’t always appreciate properly, I have a fairly decent place to live, I have food I like in the house, I still look okay in a cardigan sweater and I can still make people laugh. Those are pretty good things and as happy as I was with all of it, it was simply wiped away as the alarm clocks went off around my head this morning. The dread of the cubicle, the annoyance of the ringing phone, the dead inside feeling that comes with riding the train like so much cattle to the slaughterhouse, just drained me of any joy. The three days of fun, relaxation and booze, was now only a memory and replaced with the ongoing dread of the rest of my days.

            The three days now seem like a reminder that I am letting my time slip away into the void of perpetual mediocrity. I have to get up, dust myself off and get busy doing…um…the thing with the…um…yeah….that thing. You know, with the thing? Thing Damn it.