Monday morning with the young man. He’s throwing temper tantrums for no particular reason–at least no reason that he will give me or I can discern. We did get an extra 30 min of sleep, and the coffee is finally starting to take hold. His school is off today, and so I am at home with him, back in my role that I held for some time before going to seminary. Back then, I was used to routine temper tantrums, and he didn’t talk so of course this sort of thing was normal.
He doesn’t seem to be getting the amount of sleep he needs–perhaps he’s staying awake a lot at night. For the most part, though, we’ve been pretty blessed this winter to not have too many sick spells and all-nighters of endless fussing.
I will close out my time with my current employer this week, then spend a week in NYC, then have a week to myself before going to start at I. I’m in that time of my life where all of these transitions seem like they should be especially meaningful and relevant to understanding my purpose/mission/journey here on earth, but nothing that feels like meaning arises much. Instead, it is all mostly pretty black and white, cut and dried–which I don’t mind much, it just doesn’t make for great writing.
The fact is, I need to really hang on to the new job I’m moving into for at least ten years so that I can get the house paid off, and have my retirement looking more or less like it is supposed to for someone my age. I don’t have any great aspirations beyond just hanging on and hanging in there–trying to be a good team player and a good company man, learning all about the products and services and company mission and vision and rar-ra-ing the shit out of them via email, paid search, social, etc.
Honestly, I don’t think I’ll be doing much of anything different than I have been–I’m just going to be doing it on a much larger scale in terms of resources available and paycheck offered. I have truly become my father.
Even that doesn’t really bother me. The thing is, I have never landed on that one awesome or cool thing that I can do more of or better than other people. My sense of greatness was largely overblown and not based on anything other than the ease of which my imagination can pump up my ego. But, I don’t really get depressed anymore about the discovery and reality of the fact that I am truly a normal, average guy.
Where I do wish I had more activity is in my ability to stream of consciousness write something that may be pure nonsense but is much more freeing than forcing my brain to compose complete, coherent sentences. It’s like the straitjacket of the professional life has permanently damaged my purely creative side.