Just pulled into Wales Community Park. I'd been circling around Wales looking for a forest or tree to crawl in, feeling kind of crummy and avoiding being mad at my client who had just called to tell me he was going to be a half-hour late.
There are a number of "old" subdivisions in wales. Nice big houses on big lots with old growth trees and that sort of thing. Nice houses tucked way back from the road behind a ridge of trees. Very nice.
Found a house for sale there: $425,000. I suspect I could negotiate down the $25,000. I wonder briefly where the other $400,000 will come from.
I look up and see the disk golfers-- fucking hippies-- following their frizbies around a largely un-treed savannah grassland. This isn't a park, its a wasteland.
Maybe one day it will be beautiful. Not today.
The downs I'm paying for the up I sustained last week-- and will sustain in the coming week of road travel-- are massive. And, what's frustrating about them is not that they're so painful or desperate. That the're just so goddamn apathetic. Big picture stuff wraps itself around my legs making me anxious, but little picture stuff-- the here and now-- is too easy to let go of. Too easy to not care about.
One step at a time. One more step forward. Towards the top of the mountain. Towards hope. And all that.
The clover at the park is deep green and pocked by the white flowwerheads, which bobble in the feeble breeze raking the Wales Community Park. This is not living. This is hiding. I close my laptop and head over to my client meeting. I will try very hard to be engaged and energetic with him. He will not be able to tell how morose I feel.
Tomorrow is another day.
Got a weird assignment at work today. Had to write a postcard for people who treat depression. So, you're not really selling anything to people who are depressed, you're selling something to people who know about depression. Or want to know more. Or something.
Regardless, I was really stuck. One of the things about being a "create on demand" professional is that you have to have little tricks to get your creative mojo cooking. I like to do mind maps. Especially to songs I love. So a mind-map on Depression Treatment: Rilo Kiley's "Better Son/Daughter" yields the following results:
Chatting with PRL today, he says: "Some days feel like successes and some feel like total failures."
And I ask, "Why don't they teach you _that_ in business school?"
I tweeted about it earlier, you may recall.
I just wish someone had sat me down and said: "Look, it doesn't matter what you do in life. There will be things that will suck. The trick is to minimize those and maximize the things that don't. Then everything will be ok."
I like to imagine that wise sage then leaning back in his comfy wooden college professor chair and smiling at me. Then he'd lean back in and with a twinkle in his eye, tell me this: "Also, one day, your boss' boss is going to use you as leverage against your boss. When that day comes, the best thing you can do is be quiet and slowly creep out of the room as if you were invisible."
I explained this sentiment to my wife last night. "I don't want to change the world," I said. "I don't need to make waves or break the system down. I can work the system. I just don't want to be hassled."
And she says, congratulations. You've turned thirty.
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