I Ramble
Deleted my profile about a week ago. Or at least I thought I did. I definitely remember clicking on the confirmation email with a certain sense of relief. Thought I'd finally rid myself of one of the final remnants of relevance I had outside of work. Decided to check in today just to make sure I could put this behind me, but lo and behold, I'm still here.
For a second, I began to doubt how long 72 hours were. It had to be three days. I checked and then double checked my math, and sure enough this profile was allowed to overstay it's welcome by a few days. My knowledge on the administrative workings of this site is too limited to understand why, but regardless I couldn't help but find a profound sense of irony in that.
I've been debating lately as to why I allow myself to continue existing long past any semblance of significance my life has ever had. It's not hard to do. I have every step planned out, every loose end accounted for, every apology I would ever need to make, and a bullet awaiting its purpose conveniently chambered away. But lo and behold, I'm still here.
Of course there's a plethora of interpretations as to why ranging from the romantic to the cynical, but ultimately I'm left with the unshakable realization that I've outlasted my own usefulness.
There's a much older man I work with that has recently been feeling sorry for himself quite publicly. He's a supervisor as well and tasked with higher responsibilities and expectations, however he constantly misses the mark. It's not for a lack of effort or even knowledge, but an inability to focus. His competence is fleeting. If you look closely, you can pinpoint the moments when his mind begins to wander. He's been floundering at the job for as long as I've been there.
These facts are not lost on him. He's aware of when others correct his mistakes and make up for his shortcomings. He apologizes excessively when this happens despite none of us really wanting or needing it. He openly talks of retiring to let us know that we would be better off without him, even though he's far more of an asset than a burden. People just accept him as the kooky old man that could pass as Gandalf with the proper wardrobe.
He's a loner, a lot like me. He's a divorcee with two adult daughters who have left to pursue their own interests. Bringing up technology, pop culture, or current events around him is like trying to tear down a wall with a pillow. It just has no impact. He is a man that has long been lost inside his own head.
I often wonder if I'll turn into him should I choose to live that long. Someone with nowhere to go but into the shelter of their own mind. It stands to reason that people like him, people like us, use solitude as a shield against life's unyielding stream of disappointment. Before long, it becomes a crutch. We can't function without it. We're constantly equipped to face threats unseen and unheard, but assumed to be present nevertheless. We carry it everywhere we go. The shield becomes such a burden to carry that it affects our ability to focus on things before us, and then we feel like a burden ourselves.
I guess that's why I felt the need to delete this profile. A part of me felt sorry that despite all of the time and effort and words I've poured into this site, I couldn't make any kind of difference. Whatever advice or encouragement or input I could offer always seemed to come up short. I wanted to do so much but accomplished so little. Just like him.
And just like him I felt sorry for myself, maybe not anywhere near as openly, but enough to where I'd aim to delete my presence without so much as a goodbye. My requisite dependence on solitude not only renders my ambitions ineffectual, but leaves itself as the only alternative. The shield I used to avoid disappointment only seemed to leave more in its wake.
That leaves me with the conclusion that disappointment is unavoidable. I merely exchanged one set of disappointments for another. Not that I was ever expecting some Arcadia with Nutella rivers and double rainbows all the way. Of course a life worth living is going to be far from easy. But is the point of life simply to minimize these disappointments? To find ways to vanquish them like a never-ending game of Whack-a-Mole? Or perhaps it's merely to learn to live with them?
Maybe that's why it seems like everyone and everything is fake. It's easier to accept the disappointments than it is to change them. Might be even easier to pretend they aren't even there. Just delete my profile and try to forget all about this place. But that won't solve anything. I'll only be trading in these disappointments for others. I probably already did by abandoning this place for so long.
I don't know the answers. Feels like I never do. There are only ever possibilities, and all of them it seems come with their own set of disappointments. Maybe I should learn to embrace these. Maybe none of this matters, but since you made it to the end, here's a song I like. Enjoy
[youtube=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zpb1gJyMKIs]
For a second, I began to doubt how long 72 hours were. It had to be three days. I checked and then double checked my math, and sure enough this profile was allowed to overstay it's welcome by a few days. My knowledge on the administrative workings of this site is too limited to understand why, but regardless I couldn't help but find a profound sense of irony in that.
I've been debating lately as to why I allow myself to continue existing long past any semblance of significance my life has ever had. It's not hard to do. I have every step planned out, every loose end accounted for, every apology I would ever need to make, and a bullet awaiting its purpose conveniently chambered away. But lo and behold, I'm still here.
Of course there's a plethora of interpretations as to why ranging from the romantic to the cynical, but ultimately I'm left with the unshakable realization that I've outlasted my own usefulness.
There's a much older man I work with that has recently been feeling sorry for himself quite publicly. He's a supervisor as well and tasked with higher responsibilities and expectations, however he constantly misses the mark. It's not for a lack of effort or even knowledge, but an inability to focus. His competence is fleeting. If you look closely, you can pinpoint the moments when his mind begins to wander. He's been floundering at the job for as long as I've been there.
These facts are not lost on him. He's aware of when others correct his mistakes and make up for his shortcomings. He apologizes excessively when this happens despite none of us really wanting or needing it. He openly talks of retiring to let us know that we would be better off without him, even though he's far more of an asset than a burden. People just accept him as the kooky old man that could pass as Gandalf with the proper wardrobe.
He's a loner, a lot like me. He's a divorcee with two adult daughters who have left to pursue their own interests. Bringing up technology, pop culture, or current events around him is like trying to tear down a wall with a pillow. It just has no impact. He is a man that has long been lost inside his own head.
I often wonder if I'll turn into him should I choose to live that long. Someone with nowhere to go but into the shelter of their own mind. It stands to reason that people like him, people like us, use solitude as a shield against life's unyielding stream of disappointment. Before long, it becomes a crutch. We can't function without it. We're constantly equipped to face threats unseen and unheard, but assumed to be present nevertheless. We carry it everywhere we go. The shield becomes such a burden to carry that it affects our ability to focus on things before us, and then we feel like a burden ourselves.
I guess that's why I felt the need to delete this profile. A part of me felt sorry that despite all of the time and effort and words I've poured into this site, I couldn't make any kind of difference. Whatever advice or encouragement or input I could offer always seemed to come up short. I wanted to do so much but accomplished so little. Just like him.
And just like him I felt sorry for myself, maybe not anywhere near as openly, but enough to where I'd aim to delete my presence without so much as a goodbye. My requisite dependence on solitude not only renders my ambitions ineffectual, but leaves itself as the only alternative. The shield I used to avoid disappointment only seemed to leave more in its wake.
That leaves me with the conclusion that disappointment is unavoidable. I merely exchanged one set of disappointments for another. Not that I was ever expecting some Arcadia with Nutella rivers and double rainbows all the way. Of course a life worth living is going to be far from easy. But is the point of life simply to minimize these disappointments? To find ways to vanquish them like a never-ending game of Whack-a-Mole? Or perhaps it's merely to learn to live with them?
Maybe that's why it seems like everyone and everything is fake. It's easier to accept the disappointments than it is to change them. Might be even easier to pretend they aren't even there. Just delete my profile and try to forget all about this place. But that won't solve anything. I'll only be trading in these disappointments for others. I probably already did by abandoning this place for so long.
I don't know the answers. Feels like I never do. There are only ever possibilities, and all of them it seems come with their own set of disappointments. Maybe I should learn to embrace these. Maybe none of this matters, but since you made it to the end, here's a song I like. Enjoy
[youtube=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zpb1gJyMKIs]
