It’s all the same.
It’s a digging game.
It’s the optimist’s ‘something new to know’.
Everything’s a jumbled mess
It’s the pessimist’s ‘I told you so’.
No one reading from the same page
Strangers, they whirl past in friendly costumes.
No one to commiserate wit
Sympathetic, they can only nod like wind-bent blooms.
Everyone knows this feeling
We all experience it at different times, in our own way.
Everyone waits, desperate for it to pass
How long it will linger or where will it lead, not a one can say.
The Not So Fantastic Reality:
The above story was inspired by the following tidbits I encountered today:
ONE: Ever have one of those days where you feel like you must be speaking a different language than the rest of the world? And not like Spanish or French, but a language in which you alone are fluent and somehow it’s escaped you that no one can understand what you are jabbering on about? I hate those days. Today was one of those days, I’m sure you’ve gathered as much. I just kept hitting one wall after another at work, one question would lead to five more being unearthed; it was like canoeing up a molasses river… with a bendy straw for a paddle. Without going into explicit detail (again, keeping my job that I usually love being the priority here) there are just some days that I wish I had someone to commiserate with. Being the sole staff member for my program and being surrounded by academia it would be oh-so lovely to have just one person who knew the same frustrations, who knew what I was up against and could lend a helping hand, or ear. Well, until I meet this person (please let it be soon) I’ll just have to soldier on alone (and yes, I’m being completely melodramatic, this is a blog, after all). Here’s hoping tomorrow has more answers than questions (that I can’t answer).
Love & Squirrels.