September 29, 2004

It's been three weeks. Where does the time go? In this particular instance, much of it has been spent sitting in the dentist's chair, furiously trying to get everything I needed done before my benefits expired (tomorrow). I don't know what most folks consider to be a lot of time at the dentist, but I'm pretty sure that 4 days in a week comes close to qualifying as such. Tonight I sit, still hooped up on painkillers (which, it must be said, aren't doing a whole heck of a lot), trying to figure out where exactly things are going.

I guess I've nothing to be worried about, the number of opportunities that have surfaced is surprising - I've sent out 3 resumes and have had one bite and three job offers; two from agencies that heard I'd been laid off. I don't think I'm ready to jump right back into the ESL world, but it is kind of nice to know that I could with relative ease. Another offer through one of my teammates to get on a construction crew "just until I find something better", and perhaps most intriguing: an offer to house/dog sit for 6 months in a mansion out by Horseshoe Bay. Most appealing is the fact that I could live rent-free for half a year, albeit quite a ways out of town.

I don't know. I've spent a lot of time wondering if sticking around at Rainbow for the better part of three years was such a good idea - it was never my intention, after all. It just sort of happened. I think about folks I know, folks who have interesting-sounding jobs that challenge them and take them to all sorts of places; how did I get stuck here? The answer is fairly obvious: distractions. Whether it be the job, the disc, or the bottle, I know that the dearth of ambition in my life stems from my prelidiction to do... well, anything. I can't seem to find a niche or a goal to pursue. Upon reflection, I suppose you might describe my life as one of apathetic hedonism: I'm all about having a good time, so long as it comes to me. Part of me wonders if this is a flaw at all - but you've all heard the serendipity spiel before. If you haven't, check out the archives: that's what they're there for.

I know this doesn't sound like the fella who asserted he would be all over seeking out that new job ASAP, but that guy neglected to take the obliterating factor of consuming an almost-daily cocktail of anaesthetics, antibiotics, analgesics with a dose of steroids (oh, yeah... but not those steroids) on the side. I got an information sheet from the pharmacist; check out the list of possible side effects:

• Difficulty sleeping
• Mood changes
• Nervousness
• Increased appetite (I shudder to think)
• Indigestion
• Unusual swelling of the feet or legs
• Unusual weight gain (finally!)
• Black, tarry stools
• Vomiting material that looks like coffee grinds (what?)
• Severe nausea or vomiting
• Changes in menstrual periods (...)
• Headache
• Muscle weakness or,
• Prolonged sore throat, cold, or fever

Pretty exciting, huh? This stuff is supposed to be helping me, but I honestly have no idea how. Maybe the doc is banking on my getting one or all of these bonuses and then forgetting all about the throbbing pain in my lower jaw. So far, neither of these has occurred: I remain bonus free and pain full. Which, all things considered, I suppose I should be thankful for - right? And people ask me why I don't like going to the doctor.

One of the benefits of spending the past week in a half-stupor is that periodically I come across a scrap of paper with something I don't remember writing on it. To wit:

For I have seen beauty
And it has left me
Forlorn, torn and lonely
By the wayside
And yet I wake
Graced by the serenity
Of the morning
And the rest of the day
Is lost

* * *

O, that I am plagued
By the beauty
Of your smile

* * *

And my personal favourite:

"I mean, I'm drunk... but yeah, 5 pints, 3 shots of whiskey and a bowl will do that to you."

- muttered before attempting to get up, losing my balance, and stepping on a remote control, dictionary and pen.

Yeah, so I can't really blame that one on the painkillers... or dentist, for that matter.

September 9, 2004

So tomorrow is the day. Pick your favourite metaphor: the end of the line, the curtain falls, fade to black. No matter what the next couple of months may bring, I am strangely satisfied to be putting it all in the wind. Perhaps it is my nomadic heart asserting itself again, perhaps it is the gods smiling down upon me, or even the simple anticipation of something new on the horizon: I am not worried. Granted, the near future is undoubtedly going to be challenging, but after three years of sedentary existence with little inspiration or promise of change, what have I got to lose? It might just be that this cosmic kick in the ass is just what I have been looking for.

I'm sure you've all felt it before. That nagging feeling that you're just spinning gears, idling the days away and refusing to initate change simply because what you're currently doing is easy. If you haven't, then do me a favour and let me in on the secret, because I'm obviously doing something wrong.

September 6, 2004

It is the final evening of an uneventful and tranquil long weekend. I've had the opportunity to sit and consider recent developments and to take stock of my current state of affairs. It seems my belief that patience was all that was required for significant change to occur in my life was correct, although it must be said that what has transpired was not exactly what I was hoping for. Then again, is it ever?

The long and the short of it is that I am soon to find myself without gainful employment. I'm not going to go into all the details, suffice to say that despite finding myself in dire financial straits, I am not altogether unhappy about joining the ranks of the unemployed. It is obvious that I have been needing a change for some time now, and my decision to accept an offer to be laid off (instead of just simply quitting), will provide just that. If you're desperate to know all the gory details, drop me a line - if I get enough requests, I might be inspired to put together a little something for everybody to enjoy. Heck, I might just do it anyway: I am going to have quite a bit of free time on my hands, after all.

This is not to say that I intend to slack off and collect EI while my debts slowly accrue. I'm going from one full-time job to another: looking for another full-time job. My desire to move away from the ESL industry and other administrative positions might make this a more difficult endeavour than it should otherwise be, but I'm not interested in moving in circles. I've done that for long enough. It's about time I used my noggin for something more than simple scheduling and clerical tasks. Granted, I'm not yet sure what this is going to entail, but looking at the first drafts of my resume, I reckon I have quite the panoply of skills to draw upon. Something will come along; even if I have to overturn every stone in the city to find it.

Of course, if you've got a line on a hot gig that only an excessively verbose and exceedingly loquacious (and let's not forget extemporaneously redundant) chap such as myself can fill, well - you know where to find me.

* * *

Have you ever had dreams in which the supporting cast are all faces you're pretty sure you've never seen before? I have. I was taking a stroll earlier this evening, half lost in thought and half-hoping to meet a cute girl - what? It could happen - and I was thinking about this very thing. Are these faces merely subconscious constructs, serving only to populate my own personal Nod? I've always been inclined to think that perhaps they were the faces of those folks I'd passed by at one time - snapshots taken from the waking world stored, catalogued and later transposed into my lucid dreams.

Yet this never really seemed an adequate explanation - what of those faces that I interact with in the dream? Where do their voices and mannerisms stem from - or, more importantly, where does the knowledge they impart originate? Surely not solely from the inner machinations of my mind; I find it hard to accept that my subconscious is able to tell me things that I don't actually know. This information must come from somewhere - and yes, I am aware that the mind is an incredible thing, miraculous in both its complexity and ability. I know that often information must be digested and processed before becoming available to the conscious mind - but I'm talking about a different kind of knowledge here. I'm talking about the fundamental truths and revelations that are occasionally bestowed in particularly vivid moments of dream.

You know these dreams. The dreams after which you wake up completely confused, unsure not only of your whereabouts but also of your identity - and no, we're not talking hangovers here: those are completely different creatures. This species is the kind that when you wake you're sure that it was real, except it was a dream, so how could it be real? As an aside, I should also mention that these are the dreams that sometimes come back to you in moments of deja vu, but this spooky action is a tangential discussion and likely only to make me lose my train of thought.

So. I was walking, lost in thought (cute girls forgotten at this point) when a thought struck me: what if those faces are the spirits of other people? After death, do souls populate our dreams? It's something to think about: it certainly offers a valid explanation for the transmission of knowledge (note to self: memes) and for the infinite variety of individuals that one encounters in dream.

There are of course countless points to raise. What of living persons that make an appearance, or why would one choose to impart their experience to a complete stranger after death? What of reincarnation? I could go on - obviously this is going to require considerable thought and debate, but I just thought I'd share. Personally, I find the idea of having a connection between this world and the next quite comforting, not to mention something to look forward to after taking the dirtnap. I can't wait to fill people's heads with all kinds of nonsense. It is, however, exceedingly late, so I'm going to call it quits before I descend into incoherence and further irreverence.

But maybe I'll see you soon.