Tuesday, September 23, 2014

Now and Zen

I'm mere days away from my camping trip. The weather is currently messing with me. I checked the forecast yesterday and the weekend was looking perfect for a camping trip to the Cascade mountain range, but now it looks like dark clouds are closing in from both sides, and squeezing the sun out. One never knows until the day arrives though. Most likely, the days will start off cold and grey and then eventually the sun will burn through and warm things up for a bit. I'm hoping for some open space, so I don't want to be trapped in my tent all weekend.

I'll be exchanging the sounds of sirens, dogs barking and drunken revelers at the bus stop for babbling brooks, the wind soughing through the trees and the smell of the campfire. It's after the peak camping season, so I'm hoping that the campers will be pretty sparse this weekend. I have noticed online that there are about five sites that have already been reserved for the weekend. All the prime sites by the river. Maybe I can scope out the best site and reserve it next time. I have a feeling that I don't want to be adjacent to other campers; not if I can help it anyway.

I'm always aching for a getaway, but the past month has been tough for me. Many troubled emotions just beneath the surface, trying to claw their way out. I've always been adept at hiding my emotions, pushing them back into the corners of my mind, but that's not healthy. The stress and anxiety build up and the next thing you know, I'm having a stroke, or worse yet, converting to Republicanism. This weekend will serve as a respite from the madness of this society. For at least a couple of consecutive days, I would like to be able to leave the bill collectors behind, the petty annoyances of co-workers, the feeling of helplessness sometimes when it comes to decisions dealing with my son.

Today being Tuesday, I will be leaving for work in about an hour. My shift on Tuesdays has the plus of being without any bosses for the last half of the day. Although, I do still have to work with the most ate-up (an old air force insult, meaning he has his nose far up the managements anal recesses) and antsy twenty-something I've ever met. He struts around like he's managing a nuclear power plant or something. I like a chill atmosphere at work, because it's a bookstore after all. Ah well. He's never been in the military, or the manufacturing industry. This is probably the most important job he's ever had, so when he walks around with his coffee cup in his hand and his pen behind his ear, you know he is as serious as a heart attack. Me? I'm never serious about work.

Tuesday, September 9, 2014

Psychic Energy

"Oh, what a world! What a world!" Those are the words spoken by the Wicked Witch of the West, as she lay melting on her castle floor. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust, and witch to water. Today I mirror the words of the wicked witch, "What a world! What a world!" There is stress within my mushy brain, and when I try and restrain my stress and anger during my waking hours, they invade my sleep. I have fallen out of bed a couple of times in the past few months. I also have a tendency to physically lash out in my sleep, as if I'm doing battle with demons. These are new symptoms now accompanying my age-old insanity.

Work is the doldrums, but with annoying gnats as supervisors. It's true that life sucks, then you die...but you've got to work a series of shitty jobs first. My creativity has never served me well. It's kept me entertained during my years of loneliness, but it has never gotten me a decent job. Lately, the fact that I am thirty years older than any of my co-workers has been more apparent. I am starting to feel like an old man, who garners no respect from his co-workers, or peers. I have been in the small world of independent bookstores for over 15 years now. Say what you will about large evil corporations, but at least there is a fairly large pool of folks to choose from when it comes to hanging out.

I am still planning to do a camping trip at the end of this month. I always need the getaway with space and solitude, but now more than ever. It's no fun to clench your jaws so tightly during the night that your jaw aches the next day and you're only able to chew on one side. Stress should not be allowed to follow me into my dreams, but stress heeds no laws and has or restrictions.

I sit on my deck and try and decipher all the layers of noise that add to my stress, and I lose count. I put on my ear buds and turn up the music to drown out the city noises, but only add another louder layer of noise to the mix. The stars above are one of my only consolations, and they're shining down on me from the past, before the dust of my ancestors had even coalesced into something warm and human.

Sometimes I avoid writing blog posts, because I feel like I'm mining the same old ground, but whether anyone out there sees it, or can relate in any way is not usually known to me. So, I write because I want to write. I put down my thoughts in an attempt to shake them from their synaptic perch in my agitated mind. I'm attempting to at least clear out some emotional debris and organize what is left of my synapses into some semblance of contentment.